ponies, and now, having gained a stretch of level road, Oliver, who loved horseflesh, "let them out," as Dan expressed it, until we fairly flew past the rocks, trees, and fences which lined the highway.
"Hullo!" yelled Dan suddenly, as we rounded a somewhat sharp curve. "Stop!"
"What's up?" queried Oliver, as he brought the team down a bit.
"There is that rascal of a one-armed sailor!"
"Where?" I cried.
"There he goes, behind yonder clump of trees. He saw me and shook his fist at me."
"Shall I turn back for him?" questioned Oliver. "Perhaps we can catch him this time."
"We might try it," was my answer. "But we can't waste much time—with all that packing to do before we go to bed."
"You are sure it was the right man, Dan?"
"He had one arm, and he dove out of sight as soon as he saw us."
"Then it must have been the fellow," said Oliver. He brought the ponies about, and in a twinkle we were speeding back to where Dan had seen the man.
Of course he was now out of sight. But there was only a small patch of bushes there, back of which was a large open field. Leaving the team tied to a convenient tree, we rushed into the brush.
