"I'll get you back to Glaston without delay. I'll let you drive the
dog-cart with Fairy-foot, the prettiest bit of horse-flesh that ever wore
a shoe--trots to beat the band! You can hunt all day with Bayne and me,
and a little before sunset you can start for Shaftesville, and she will
whisk you there in an hour and a quarter, twenty miles. You needn't start
till five o'clock to catch the seven-ten train, with lots of time to
spare."
In spite of all denial, the telephone bell was presently jangling as
Briscoe rang up the passenger-agent at the railroad depot in the little
town of Shaftesville, twenty miles away.
"Twenty-six--yes, Central, I _did_ say twenty-six!... Hello, Tucker, is
that you?... See here--Mr. Frank Dean will be there with the dog-cart
and Fairy-foot to-morrow evening to catch the seven-ten train for
Glaston--leaves here about an hour by sun. Will you do me the favor to
hire a responsible party there to bring the mare back?... Can't spare
a man from here. Lost two of my dogs--yes, my fine, full-blooded
hounds--you remember Damon and Pythias? Strayed off from the pack, and
all hands and the cook have got to get out straightway and hunt them.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40