he took a leap and landed in a little heap of snow on the other side.
But, though he had scaled the gate successfully, it had taken some time, and now, when he ran to the corner below in the lumber yard, he found that Andy Gresson was nowhere in sight.
"He must be around here somewhere," thought Franklin. "Like as not he is behind some of these lumber piles watching for me. I must keep my eyes open, or he will slip me after all."
Fortunately, this part of the yard had not been visited much during the holidays, and the late snow had scarcely been disturbed. Casting his eyes about him, Franklin soon discerned what he had rightfully considered to be newly made track, and these he began to follow.
The tracks led him around half a dozen piles of lumber and through a narrow walk to a shed in one corner of the yard, used for housing barrels of lime. The door of the shed was closed, but without hesitation Franklin flung it open and entered. He was just in time to see Andy Gresson in the act of secreting himself behind a pile of rubbish.
"It's no use, Gresson; you might as well come out of that!" he called out, and somewhat red in the face, Silas Fell's former workman slowly complied.
"What do you want 'o me?" he asked, as he came up to where Franklin stood.
