"Let go of me!" howled the man savagely. "Let go, boy, or it will be the worse for you!"

"Don't you attempt to rise, or I'll knock you down," was Matt's undaunted reply. "Just you remain where you are until Mr. Jackson gets back."

But Yedley would not remain still, and as a consequence, a fierce struggle ensued. Matt called to Isaac Marvelling to come to his assistance, but the store-keeper was too afraid to do so, and only screamed for Jackson to come and secure the thief.

Yedley, although well along in years, was very strong and active, and Matt gradually found himself being overpowered. But he held on until Jackson arrived, and then the man was quickly subdued by the sight of the constable's pistol.

"Now, Yedley, you had better tell us what you have done with the stolen goods," said Jackson, after he and the others had somewhat regained their breath.

"Yes! yes! hand over my goods!" put in Isaac Marvelling eagerly.

"Ain't got no goods—didn't steal nuthin'!" growled the old man.

"We know better," said Jackson. "We'll search the shanty."

This was done, and in one corner, under some loose flooring, was found a large bundle done up in several newspapers. When this was opened there came to light many knives, forks and spoons, as well as a quantity of cheap jewelry, such as watch chains, rings and trinkets. The entire collection was not worth over fifteen dollars, although Isaac Marvelling stuck to it that the articles had cost him forty-five dollars cash.

After the store-keeper had made certain that all of his goods, with the exception of several cheap spoons, which must have slipped out of the bundle on the way, were safe, all hands made their way back to the village. Yedley begged to be allowed to go, but the constable was firm, and the man was eventually locked up, and later on sent to jail for one year.

Isaac Marvelling was too mean a man to recognize the service Matt had done him, or to apologize for the false charges he had made against the young auctioneer. As soon as he could he got out of Matt's way, and that was about the last the boy saw of him.

But Jackson, the constable, did not hesitate to tell the whole story, and, as a consequence, the people of the village thought less of the mean store-keeper than ever. His trade dropped down daily, until he was at last forced to give up his store and go back to the farm from which he had originally come.

On the following morning Matt and his partner set off bright and early for Phillipsburg. Andy had heard the particulars of Matt's adventures, and he sincerely trusted that neither would have anything further to do with thieves, little dreaming of what fate had in store for them in the near future.

They had done very well in High Bridge, and so took their time to reach the pretty manufacturing town which lies on the east bank of the Delaware. The road was a good one, and on the way they stopped at a farmhouse, where Andy treated the firm, as he termed it, to apple pie and fresh milk. He was going to pay for these articles in cash, but the farmer's wife wished a hat-pin, and gladly took one out of their stock instead.

When they arrived in Phillipsburg they found that their new goods from New York had not yet arrived, but were told that the cases would probably come in on the afternoon freight. After this they started to find a vacant store. Strange to say, there was none to be had which would suit their purpose. There were several large places vacant, but all of them were on side streets, and these they declined to hire.

"We'll have to sell direct from the wagon," said Andy. "Perhaps we'll do just as well."

They found a good corner, and after paying a license fee and getting a square meal, opened up for business. Hardly anything was done during the afternoon, but toward evening trade picked up, and when they finally dismissed the crowd they found they had taken in seventeen dollars.

"And that's pretty good, considering that we are out of many of our best sellers," was Andy's comment. "We must go around to the freight house the first thing in the morning and stock up again."

"I see by the posters that there is to be a big firemen's parade in Easton day after to-morrow," said Matt. "Would it not be a good idea to locate there just before it comes off?"

"Excellent. Day after to-morrow, you say?"

"Yes; the posters are everywhere."

"Then instead of remaining here we had better cross the river as soon as we have our cases of goods. If we can only get a store in a good location we may do better than we did on circus day in those other places."

"That's true, Andy, for I saw by the bills that the railroads are going to run special excursions on account of the big parade, so there will be many strangers with money in the city."

As soon as the freight depot was open the next morning the two drove to the place, and Andy entered the office and called for the cases, three in number.

"What's the name?" asked the agent in charge.

Andy told him, and an examination of all the freight which had come in was made, and then the two made the dismaying discovery that no goods for them had arrived.



CHAPTER XXIII.

SOMETHING IS MISSING.

"The goods haven't come in!" cried Matt. "What's to be done now? We can't open up without them, and we can't afford to miss the chance of taking a good round sum on parade day."

"I'll telegraph to New York and find out what the trouble is," returned Andy, and he started for the telegraph office without delay.

The message was sent to the metropolis within quarter of an hour, reaching its destination before any of the down-town wholesale houses were open for business. At eleven o'clock a reply came back that the cases had been duly sent, and that the delay would be traced up, if possible, at the freight depot there.

"This leaves us in a pickle for to-day," said Andy, as he handed the message over to Matt.

"Well, it won't be so bad if only we get our goods by to-morrow morning, Andy. Let us go over to Easton, anyway, and look for a store, and if we can find one, take the risk of hiring it."

So they crossed the river and began a search, leaving the horse and wagon tied up at the freight depot in Phillipsburg in the meantime.

They found that the firemen's parade was really to be very large, and already the store-keepers were decorating in its honor. On the streets numerous fakirs were about, offering badges, medals, song-sheets, souvenirs, and other wares for sale.

"I'll take this street, and you take that," said Andy, as they came to a corner. "Go around the block, and then take the next block. In that way we may find a store quicker. There is no use for both of us to go over the same ground."

So, after appointing a meeting-place, the two separated, and Matt hurried along the street Andy had designated to him.

"Here you are, gents, the most wonderful corn and bunion salve in the market!" he presently heard a voice crying out. "Made first expressly for the Emperor of Germany, and now sold in America for the first time. Warranted to cure the worst corn ever known, and sold for the small sum of ten cents! They go like hot-cakes, the boxes do, for they all know how good the salve is! Thank you, sir; who'll have the next?"

Matt stopped short, as something in the voice of the street merchant attracted his attention. He looked at the man and saw that it was Paul Barberry, the fellow who had wished to be taken in as a partner in Newark.

"Give me a box of that ere salve," Matt heard an old man say, and saw the traveling corn doctor hand over a package of his preparation.

The purchaser of the package handed over a quarter of a dollar in silver. Barberry stuck the money in his pocket, and without attempting to give back any change, thrust two more packages of his corn salve into the old man's hands.

"What—what's this?" stammered the old fellow. "Where is my change?"

"That's all right, three for a quarter, sir," returned Paul Barberry briskly. "Who'll have the next? Don't all crowd up at once!"

"But I don't want three," said the old man timidly. "I want my change."

"You'll find you need three, find 'em very valuable, sir! That's right, come right up and buy, buy, buy! It's the greatest on the face of the globe!" bawled Barberry, turning away and addressing another crowd on the sidewalk.

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" muttered the old man, and much put out, but too timid to stand up for his rights and demand the return of his money, he placed the packages in his coat-tail pocket, and walked off.

"Well, that's what I call a rather high-handed proceeding," thought Matt. "No wonder some folks consider street merchants and traveling auctioneers little better than thieves, when some of them act in that fashion. I don't think he'll prosper, though, in the end."

He was about to continue on his way, when Paul Barberry caught sight of him and came forward.

"Hullo, my young friend!" he called out pleasantly. "What brings you to Easton—the big parade?"

Matt did not like this manner of being addressed. He considered the corn salve doctor altogether too familiar, so he replied rather coldly:

"Not particularly. We merely struck Easton in the course of our travels."

"Oh, then you and your companion are still on the road with your wagon?"

"Yes."

Paul Barberry seemed to grow interested at once.

"Good enough! And how is business?"

"Very good," returned Matt, and not without pardonable pride.

"Then you are not ready to take me in as a partner yet?"

"Not quite; my friend and I can run the business very well without outside help."

"But you might make more money with me in the firm," went on Paul Barberry persistently.

"We haven't room for a third person."

"Where are you stopping now?"

"We haven't a place yet. My partner and I have just started to look for an empty store."

"Oh, then you are going to stay several days or a week."

"Yes."

"Where were you last?"

"Across the river."

"Do pretty well in Phillipsburg?"

"We did very well—until we began to run out of goods."

"I couldn't do anything in Phillipsburg," grumbled Paul Barberry. "It's only a one-horse place, anyway. So you ran out of goods there?"

"We ran out of some goods—our best sellers."

"Why don't you send for more goods?"

"We have sent, and we are expecting the cases at any moment at the Phillipsburg freight depot."

"Where is your horse and wagon?"

"Tied up at the depot over there," and to avoid being questioned further, Matt began to move off.

"I think I can get a good store for you," went on Barberry, catching him by the arm.

"Thank you, but I would prefer to do my own hunting," returned the young auctioneer, still more coolly.

"Don't want anything to do with me, eh?" retorted the corn salve vender angrily.

"I don't want you to take your valuable time in transacting my business," returned Matt, and off he hurried, before Barberry could offer any reply.

"He and his partner are mighty independent chaps," grumbled the pretended doctor, as he gazed after Matt, with a scowl on his face. "I suppose he thinks himself above me because he has a horse and wagon. Well, maybe he won't be any better off than I am some day."

And, in far from a good humor, Paul Barberry resumed the sale of his so-styled wonderful corn cure, a preparation, by the way, which was of no value as a remedial agent.

Matt walked along for several blocks without running across any empty stores that would be suitable for holding sales. Most of the places were too small, and others were in out-of-the-way corners, to which it would be next to impossible to attract a crowd.

At the appointed time he walked to the spot where he was to meet Andy. His partner was waiting for him, a smile resting on his pleasant face.

"Any luck, Matt?" he asked.

"None."

"I've struck something that I imagine will just suit us. Come on and look at it."

The two hurried to the place Andy had in mind. It was, indeed, a good store, and just in the right spot, and ten minutes later they were on the way to hunt up the landlord and rent the place.

It was no easy matter to find the person for whom they were seeking, and it was well along in the afternoon before the man who owned the building was found. He agreed to let them have the store for four days for ten dollars, and the bargain was closed on the spot.

Then they returned to the store and cleaned it up as best they could, and at a little after five o'clock locked up and started back to Phillipsburg to ascertain if their cases of goods had yet arrived.

The walk across the bridge did not take long, and the freight depot was close at hand.

"Why, where is the horse and wagon?" cried Matt, as he discovered that the turn-out was missing from the place where Billy had been fastened.

"Well, that's what I would like to know," returned Andy. "I don't see a thing of it anywhere, do you?"

They looked around, up one street and down another, but neither Billy nor the gayly-painted wagon came into view.

"I'll ask the freight agent about it," said Matt, and he hurried into the office.

"Your horse and wagon?" repeated the agent, in reply to his question. "Why, I guess your man drove off with them."

"Our man?" gasped the young auctioneer.

"Yes; the one you sent around here to get those cases of goods you were expecting. He took the cases, too."



CHAPTER XXIV.

ALONG THE RIVER.

Matt could do nothing but stare at the freight agent. A man had come there and driven off with the horse and wagon and taken the cases of goods with him. It seemed too bold-faced to be true.

"Our man?" he stammered. "We have no man."

"Didn't you send the man here?" demanded the agent, as he stopped short in his work of checking off packages.

"We certainly did not," returned the young auctioneer. "Andy!" he called out, as he stepped back toward the open door, and a moment later Andy Dilks hurried into the depot.

"He says a man came here, got the cases of goods, and drove off with Billy," cried Matt breathlessly. "You did not send any one here, did you?"

"Certainly not," returned Andy promptly. "When was this?"

"Less than two hours ago," replied the freight agent, and he was now all attention. "Do you mean to say the fellow was a thief?"

"He was!" cried Matt.

"I don't see how he could be anything else," added Andy. "Did he pretend to have an order for the cases?"

"Yes, he had a written order."

"And the bill of lading?"

"N—no, he didn't have that," was the slow reply. "But I thought it was all right. He looked like an honest chap. You had better notify the police at once."

"We will," said Matt. "What sort of a looking fellow was he?"

As best he could the freight agent gave a description of the man who had driven off with the goods and the turn-out. Matt and Andy both listened attentively.

"By the boots, I'll bet it was that Paul Barberry!" almost shouted the young auctioneer, ere the agent had ceased talking. "This is his way of getting even with us for not taking him into partnership."

"Perhaps you are right," returned Andy. "Did you say anything to him about the wagon being here?"

"I did." And Matt briefly narrated the conversation he had had with the corn doctor.

Then the agent was questioned further, and it was not long before all three were convinced that the pretended doctor was the guilty party.

"If I had known he wasn't square I would not have let him have the cases of goods, that's sure," said the agent meekly.

"I do not doubt that," returned Andy. "But the loss of the horse and wagon is more than we can stand as it is. We will have to hold the railroad responsible for the three cases."

"Can't we go after the thief?" suggested the agent, considerably worried, for he well knew that if the stolen cases were not recovered the loss would come out of his own pocket.

"Have you a horse and wagon?"

"Yes, and I can get it in five minutes."

"What direction did the thief take, do you suppose?"

The freight agent thought for a moment.

"It is my opinion that he either went over to Easton or else up the river."

"It is not likely that he went across the bridge," said Matt. "If it was this Paul Barberry he would be afraid to take that direction, fearing to meet me and my partner on our way here."

"Yes, that's so," put in Andy.

"Then he went up the river. There is quite a good road for a number of miles."

"Well, supposing you get your horse and wagon," said Matt impatiently. "It will not do to waste time here."

"But what of the police?" questioned Andy.

"We can notify them when we come back—that is, if we are unsuccessful."

"All right; hurry up that wagon, then."

The freight agent at once disappeared around the corner of the building. He was gone nearly five minutes. When he returned he was leading a fine black horse, attached to a light road wagon.

"Brought you Flip, my fast trotter," he explained. "He ought to be able to overtake any bit of horseflesh in these parts."

"Well, we want a fast horse," replied Matt, as he sprang into the wagon without delay. He was quickly followed by Andy and the freight agent, and off they went at a spanking gait down the smooth road.

It was a fine day, cool and clear, and under any other circumstances both Matt and Andy would have enjoyed the drive. But just now they were filled with fears. Supposing they were unable to recover their turn-out and goods what then?

The partners looked at each other, and that look meant but one thing. They must recover their property. Such a thing as failure was not to be countenanced.

At length Phillipsburg was left far behind, and they entered a somewhat hilly farming section. Presently they came to a farmhouse standing close to the road. There was an old countryman standing by the gate, smoking a pipe leisurely, and Matt directed the freight agent to draw rein.

"Good afternoon," said the young auctioneer politely. "I wish to ask you for a bit of information."

"Well, son, what is it?" returned the old countryman, removing his pipe from his mouth and gazing at all three curiously.

"Did an auction wagon pass this way a short while ago?"

"An auction wagon?"

"Yes, sir, a covered wagon, with the sign, 'Eureka Auction Co.,' painted on the sides. It had a single white horse, with brown spots."

The old man's face lit up.

"Oh, yes; I saw that wagon," he replied.

"You did?" cried Andy. "We are very glad to hear it. Which way did it go?"

"Right up that way," and the countryman waved his hand to the northwest.

"Along the river still," said the freight agent. "I thought so."

He was about to drive on when Matt stopped him.

"Did you notice who was driving the wagon?" he called back.

"Yes, a tall man kind of shabbily dressed."

"Must be Barberry," muttered the young auctioneer.

"What's the trouble?" questioned the countryman curiously.

"The turn-out has been stolen, that's the trouble," replied the boy, and off they sped again, leaving the old countryman staring after them in open-mouthed wonder.

They turned from the main road, which about half a mile back had led away from the Delaware, and took the side road the old man had indicated. It was an uneven wagon track, and they went bumping over rocks and stumps of trees in a most alarming fashion.

"He couldn't have gone far in this direction," muttered the freight agent ruefully. "Why, it is enough to break the springs of any wagon ever made."

"My idea is that he had an object in coming down here," responded Andy thoughtfully. "Is there any sort of bridge in the neighborhood?"

The agent shook his head.

"No."

"Or a place where the river might be forded?"

"Not now. The heavy rains have swollen the stream, as you can see. In real dry weather he might find a place to ford."

"Well, it's certain that if he came this way to merely get out of our reach he chose an awful way of doing it," remarked Matt, as a sudden lurch of the wagon sent him bouncing up into the air. "This is the worst riding I've struck yet."

"Worse than when Billy ran away?" questioned Andy, with a sudden gleam of humor.

"Well, hardly that," admitted the young auctioneer. "But that wasn't riding at all. That was a slap-bang, go-as-you-please trip, which didn't—hullo! look there!"

He motioned to the freight agent to draw rein and pointed to a deep track in a soft bit of ground ahead.

"It's the track of our wagon sure enough!" exclaimed Andy. "I could tell it out of a hundred."

"So could I, Andy. Follow that, please," went on Matt, to the agent.

"It's queer you didn't see that track before," said the driver slowly.

"The reason is because it comes from the rocks. Barberry thought it best to keep on the rocks, I suppose. Maybe he thought he would get stuck in the mud with the cases if he got on soft ground."

"That's the truth of it, you can depend on it," said Andy. "Hurry up and follow that track to the end, and we'll soon have our wagon and goods back."

On and on they went, over soft patches of ground, through low bushes, and around rocks and fallen trees. Sometimes they were close to the water's edge, and again they traveled almost out of sight of the clear-flowing stream.

"We can't go much further in this direction," said the freight agent, when all of a mile of ground had been covered.

"Why not?" asked Andy.

"There is a big wall of rock just ahead. We will have to pull away from the river now."

"No, we won't!" shouted Matt. "Look there!"

And he pointed to where the wagon tracks led directly down into the water.

"I'll bet all I am worth that he crossed the stream here," he went on. "Do you not see how shallow it is? He went over to that island, and from there directly to the other side."



CHAPTER XXV.

A BITTER MISTAKE.

Both Andy and the freight agent saw at once that Matt was right, and the jaw of the driver of the wagon dropped.

"Humph! I was certain he couldn't cross right after such heavy rains," he said moodily.

"But you see he has crossed," went on the young auctioneer. "I will tell you what I'm going to do—wade across and see if I can't strike the tracks on the other side."

"You'll get pretty wet, especially if you slip into a deep hole," returned Andy.

"I'll take off part of my clothing," returned Matt, and he did so without delay.

The water was colder than he had anticipated, and he shivered slightly as he waded in deeper and deeper.

"Can you swim, should you slip?" called out Andy anxiously.

"Yes, I can swim," returned Matt, "but I hope that won't be necessary!"

Moving along cautiously where the rocks stuck up the highest, the young auctioneer worked his way slowly over to the island he had previously pointed out. It was painful work, for he had taken off his shoes, and now he found the bottom in many places cut his feet. But at last the island was reached, and he walked out upon the dry ground.

It did not take Matt long to discover the wagon tracks for which he was searching. They were close at hand, and led almost in a straight line across the little patch, which was not over two hundred feet in width.

"Here they are!" he shouted back to the others. "He went right across just as I supposed."

"Humph! Now what is to be done?" questioned the agent, with a perplexed look upon his face.

"We must cross and follow him," replied Andy determinedly.

"Do you want me to take the horse and wagon across?"

"Why not? The thief took that heavily loaded wagon over. I guess this light affair will go over all right."

The agent was doubtful about this, and rubbed his chin reflectively.

"I might drive on till I got to a bridge, or turn back to one," he suggested.

"That would take too long," returned Matt's partner impatiently. "We must 'strike while the iron is hot,' as the saying is."

"Come on!" shouted Matt from the island. "Come straight over and you will be all right."

"Well, we can make the venture, but I am a bit shaky over it," said the freight agent, and with a face full of the concern he felt for his turn-out he headed his trotter toward the water.

At first the horse was inclined to shy to one side. He pranced up and down a bit and dug into the sand and loose stones with his hoofs.

"You can see he don't want to go," said the driver. "I really think we had better find a bridge."

"Oh, nonsense! give me the reins!" returned Andy sharply, seeing that the fellow was altogether too easily frightened. "I will take him over safely."

"Don't be too sure!" cried the agent in alarm. "He will break at the least little thing!"

But Andy would not listen to him further. He took the reins, and holding them firmly, tapped the trotter with the whip.

The horse made a rush into the water, and in less than ten seconds the wagon was in up to the axles.

"We will be drowned! We will be drowned!" cried the agent in sudden terror. "I can't swim!"

"We won't be drowned. Just you hold on and keep quiet," returned Andy shortly.

"But—but we are going deeper!"

"Not much deeper. I can still see the bottom."

"Supposing we should slip—or Flip should slip?"

"Or we had an earthquake," added Andy, utterly disgusted with the freight agent's actions. "Don't you want to get back those cases, or do you prefer to pay for them?"

This last remark effectually silenced the man. He clung to the seat looking badly scared, but he offered no more suggestions.

With due caution, but as rapidly as possible, Andy drove the horse over the rocks, carefully avoiding such spots as he thought might be extra deep or slippery. Matt, on the island, shouted several directions to him; and thus the journey was safely accomplished.

"Good so far!" cried the young auctioneer, when the horse was once more on dry ground. "That was easy enough."

"Easier than I thought it would be!" exclaimed the freight agent, with a deep breath of relief. "I wish we were over all the way!"

"The second trip will be easier than the first was," remarked Andy. "It is much more shallow."

"I will wade ahead and make sure of the way," put in Matt, and without loss of time he started out.

It was not so deep toward the Pennsylvania shore, but the current appeared to run swifter, and the boy had all he could do when up to his thighs to keep his feet. But the horse and wagon came along all right, and inside of ten minutes they were high and dry upon the opposite bank.

Here it did not take long to rediscover the tracks made by the auction turn-out, and as soon as Matt could don what clothing he had taken off, they started to follow it up once more.

"I can't see why he crossed the river in that fashion," grumbled the freight agent, as he tapped his horse with the whip.

"I can," returned Andy. "He did it to throw us off the track. He had no time to get rid of the signs on the wagon, and he knew we would learn, sooner or later, in what direction he had gone. But he thought we would not find out how he had crossed and would think that he had kept along on the eastern bank."

On and on they went, over the rocky roads, now through a sharp cut between the mountains, and then again around a curve overlooking some tiny stream far below.

"A beautiful place," said Matt, as his eyes rested on a particularly beautiful bit of picturesque scenery. "How can people stick in the stuffy city when there is so much like this going to waste, so to speak?"

"That's a conundrum," returned Andy. "But I have heard it said that many city-born folks would rather die between brick walls than live amid green fields."

"Just look at those rocks and trees, and listen to those birds sing!"

"It is truly grand, that's a fact," returned Andy. "Do you know, if I was wealthy, I believe I would like nothing better than to spend all of my summer in among the mountains."

"And that would just suit me," returned Matt enthusiastically, and then he suddenly sobered down. "But we are not rich, Andy, and unless we get back our turn-out we'll be as poor as ever."

"Oh, we'll have to catch that thief," put in the freight agent. "He can't be many miles ahead."

"The trouble is it's growing dark, and we can hardly see the wagon tracks any more," said the young auctioneer.

"It grows dark early in among the mountains," remarked Andy. "If the land was level, it would be light enough."

On they went, passing through several little hamlets. At each of these places they inquired about the auction wagon, and were told that it had passed through, the man driving at almost top speed.

"He is going to get away as far as he can before he puts up for the night," said Andy. "I do not believe we will catch him until we reach the place at which he is stopping."

"My trotter is not used to this sort of thing," said the freight agent. "He is beginning to play out."

"At the next town we reach we can hire a horse," said Matt. "And you can go back if you wish. There is no telling how long this chase may last."

"I ought to be back attending to business," was the agent's reply. "My clerk can hardly take my place. Would you two be willing to go on alone?"

"Certainly," returned Andy.

The next place, a village of perhaps twenty or thirty houses and half a dozen stores, was soon reached. There was a small tavern, and they drove up to this. Alighting, Matt ran inside and questioned the half a score of loungers concerning the auction wagon.

Every man in the place shook his head. The wagon had not been seen in the village. Nearly all of the men had just come in from work, and every one said that had the wagon been on the main road at all he would have seen it.

Matt listened with a sinking heart, and as Andy came in he grasped his partner by the shoulder.

"We have made a mistake," he said faintly.

"A mistake, Matt?"

"Yes. The wagon did not come here at all. We are on the wrong track!"



CHAPTER XXVI.

SOMETHING OF A SURPRISE.

Andy was certainly as much dismayed as Matt at the discovery which had been made. Just at the time when they supposed that they were drawing closer to the object of their chase, they found that they were most likely further away than ever. The older member of the firm gave another groan, and this was supplemented by another from the freight agent.

"I knew he couldn't cross that river," growled the latter. "Now, just see what a wild goose chase you have led us!"

"Oh, he crossed the river, there is no doubt of that!" returned Matt quickly. "But where we got off the track was somewhere among the mountains. We dropped the right track and took something that resembled it."

"Yes, that must be the truth of the matter," put in Andy. "It's too bad!"

"What's it all about, anyway?" questioned the tavern-keeper curiously.

In a few brief words Andy explained matters, while not only the tavern-keeper, but also the others in the place, listened with deep interest.

"Any reward offered for catching the rascal?" questioned one of the men present, a brawny individual—evidently a mountaineer.

"Yes," returned Matt quickly. "How much shall we offer, Andy?" he asked in a whisper.

"Twenty-five dollars would not be too much," returned his partner. "It is quite a sum to us, I know, but I guess we would rather have our turn-out back a dozen times over."

"We will give twenty-five dollars in cash for the return of our horse, wagon and goods," said Matt, in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

"Twenty-five dollars in cash!" repeated several, and it was plain to see that this offer was regarded as quite liberal.

"What kind of a looking turn-out is it?" was next asked.

Matt described Billy and the wagon. All listened attentively, and when he had finished the mountaineer who had first spoken tapped him on the shoulder.

"I'll go out with ye and hunt him up, stranger."

"So will I!" cried another.

"And I!" added a third, and soon six men stood ready to continue the search with Andy and Matt.

Seeing this, the freight agent decided to drive back home, taking a much better road, which led down to Easton. He did not lose any time in starting, and, if the truth must be told, both Andy and Matt were glad to be rid of him.

After he had gone the auctioneers procured another horse and wagon from the tavern-keeper and also a couple of lanterns. The mountaineer had a mule upon which he rode, and the other men went along on foot.

They traveled the road by which the young auctioneers had come. The village was situated in a small open spot, and now, when they once more found themselves between the mountains, they were enveloped in a darkness which the rays of the lanterns scarcely dispersed.

They traveled along as rapidly as possible, and inside of half an hour came to a fork in the road which Matt had had in mind since the discovery of their mistake had been made.

"We will examine the ground here," he said. "It is more than likely he branched off here."

He was soon hard at work, and all of the others with him. The wagon track they had followed was very plainly to be seen, and now Matt saw, at a spot which was covered with loose stones, where the thief had branched off with his stolen outfit.

"That is the road he took," he announced to the others. "Had we followed him from here in the first place we would most likely have caught up to him by this time."

"Is that 'ere track the right one?" questioned the mountaineer eagerly.

"I believe it is."

"Then I'm off fer the reward!" shouted the brawny fellow. "Git up, Bones!" and he slapped the mule with the flat of his hand, and was off without another word.

"Ramson will get it, sure," grumbled one of the other men. "No use for us to go any further."

And he turned on his heel and started back for the village, followed by most of the others, leaving a single man to race after the mountaineer on foot.

Matt and Andy were not slow to urge their fresh horse forward. But the way was now even darker than before and also rougher, and it was with difficulty that the wagon moved along.

"I don't believe he went very far on this road," said Matt, bringing the horse to a halt. "I am going to follow that track on foot."

He sprang down from the seat, and with the light close to the ground, moved along in front of the horse. It was well that he did so, for hardly had he advanced a hundred feet than he uttered a cry and came to a halt.

"What's up now?" questioned Andy, peering forward through the gloom.

"He turned off here and went into the brush on the left. Don't you see the tracks?"

"But there is no road through the brush. He would lose his way and get caught among the rocks further back."

"I have an idea that he drove away in here to hide the wagon," suddenly cried Matt. "He could very well do that, you know, and then ride off on horseback to some place and put up for the night."

"By the boots, I believe you are right!" returned Andy. "Why, of course that is just what he has done! How stupid of us not to think of that before."

"I hope the wagon is still O. K.," went on Matt. "It would be hard work to get a spring fixed in this out-of-the-way place."

"Well, we must find the wagon first. Supposing we tie up and go ahead on foot."

"I'm willing."

They were soon side by side, making their way through the brush and around the rocks as rapidly as they could.

"Let us go forward as silently as possible!" suddenly whispered the boy. "Barberry may still be around, and if that is so we want to surprise him."

"That's a good idea! What a pity we can't put out the light."

"We can't do without it. The track is growing fainter. We are coming to almost solid rock."

On and on they pushed, until Andy calculated that they had covered a distance of five hundred feet from the main road. Then they found themselves on the verge of a deep ravine, with a high wall of rock to the left of them.

"Phew! supposing he drove over that!" shuddered Andy, as he pointed into the blackness of the hollow. "That must be a hundred feet or more deep."

"He went to the right, Andy—the only way he could go. Have you any matches with you?"

"Yes. What do you want of them?"

"I am going to put out the light, for I fancy the wagon is not far off, and the thief may be around also. If we wish we can light up again later on."

Matt did as he had intimated, and the two found themselves in a darkness that was simply intense to the last degree. They could not see their hands before their faces, and had to literally feel their way along.

Matt went first, with his partner holding on to the hem of his jacket. They had progressed but a dozen feet when, on rounding a high rock, the young auctioneer stopped once more.

"I was right," he whispered. "The wagon is directly ahead."

"How do you know?"

"I can see the lantern, which is standing on the seat."

"Then the thief must still be around," returned Andy excitedly.

"I suppose so, but I don't see any one. Come on, but don't make any noise, or he may run away, and I think he ought to be captured and locked up."

"Certainly he ought to be placed under arrest. I am ready. Won't he be surprised when he sees us!"

Once again they moved forward toward where the auction wagon stood beneath the shelter of a large tree. Matt noted that Billy had been unharnessed and was tied to the rear, where he was engaged in making a meal of some feed which had been given him.

"Barberry is making himself at home evidently," murmured the young auctioneer to himself. "That fellow certainly has nerve!"

"Hold up!" suddenly cried Andy, catching the boy by the arm.

"What's up, Andy?"

"Look there, to your right!"

Matt did as directed, and saw a sight which both amazed and alarmed him. There, by a little fire built to keep them comfortable in the night air, sat two burly men, drinking and smoking. Neither of the individuals was Paul Barberry.



CHAPTER XXVII.

TIMELY ASSISTANCE.

"Those fellows must be the thieves," whispered Andy, as he pointed to the pair beneath the tree.

"I believe you are right," returned Matt. "If so, we have made a big mistake. Neither of them is Paul Barberry, and I was almost certain he was the thief."

"So was I, Matt. But never mind that now. What worries me is the fact that there are two of them."

"Yes, and they both look like strong fellows," returned the young auctioneer, as he surveyed the pair. "If they get ugly when we claim the turn-out we may have a lively time with them."

"Well, we are in the right, and we must stick up for our own."

"Of course we'll do that," cried Matt determinedly. "But I say, wouldn't it be best if we each got a stout stick? They may show fight if they fancy we are beyond outside aid."

"Perhaps we can bluff them into believing that we have the village authorities at our back," suggested Andy. "I would rather frighten them off than run the risk of coming off second best in a set-to with them."

"Hi! what are you fellows doing here?" suddenly demanded a voice just behind Andy. "Do you belong—what, you?"

And the speaker, none other than Paul Barberry, stepped back in amazement.

"What's the trouble there, Barberry?" cried one of the men by the fire, and both sprang up in alarm.

"Why, here are the—the—a couple of young fellows," stammered the corn salve doctor. He was so surprised he could hardly speak. "How did you get here?" he asked slowly.

"Never mind that," returned Matt. "I imagine you know what we are here for."

"No, I don't."

"Really!" returned Andy sarcastically. "Well, then, let me tell you that we came for our horse and wagon and stock."

"I haven't anything of yours," returned Paul Barberry, gradually recovering from his surprise. In making a circle around the improvised camp he had stumbled upon them quite unexpectedly. "You talk as if I was a thief."

"Didn't you run off with that horse and wagon?" demanded Matt.

"Run off with it? No, why should I? The outfit belongs to me. Isn't that so, boys?" and the corn salve doctor turned to his burly companions.

"Why, of course it does!" returned the men.

A thunderbolt from the sky at that moment would not have taken Andy and Matt more by surprise than did this statement. Paul Barberry's assurance actually staggered them, and neither could speak for the moment.

"That outfit belongs to you?" cried Matt at length.

"Of course."

"That's the biggest falsehood I ever heard in my life!" burst out Andy. "You know very well that everything there belongs to us."

"I know no such thing," returned Barberry coldly. "I bought the outfit from you, and you know it. These gentlemen know it also."

And he waved his hand toward his companions.

"Certainly, we know all about it," said one of the men.

"Yes, we saw the money paid over," added the second fellow.

Matt and Andy looked at each other. Each knew very well that the other had never made any bargain for the sale of the turn-out and stock. The whole scheme was one of the corn doctor to get possession of their belongings.

"See here, Barberry, there is no use for you to talk in this fashion," went on Matt, as calmly as he could, although he was worked up to the top notch of excitement. "You know very well that you are asserting that which is not true. The outfit belongs to us, and you haven't the shadow of an interest in it. You stole it from the Phillipsburg freight depot, and——"

"Stop that!" blustered the corn salve doctor. "How dare you call me a thief, boy?"

"That is what you are, and nothing less. If you——"

"Do you hear that, fellows?" interrupted Barberry, turning to the two men.

"You want to keep a civil tongue in your head, boy!" cried one of the men sharply. "Calling a man a thief is a serious business."

"And being a thief is still more serious," replied Andy. "Perhaps you fancy you can bluff us, as the saying is, but you are mistaken. This turn-out is ours, and we are here to claim it. If you molest us in the least we will hand you all over to the police."

"We can stand up for ourselves," returned the man with a deep scowl. "We are three to two, and we are armed."

"So you would use force to retain our property, eh?" said Andy.

"We do not admit that it is your property."

"But it is. Now let me tell you something. We stopped at the village just north of here, and got the assistance of nearly a dozen men. They are scattered about, and should you attempt to molest us I shall give them a signal——"

"Not much you won't!" cried the man addressed, and springing forward, he clapped his hand over Andy's mouth. "Tend to the other one, fellows, I can manage this one!"

"All right," returned his companion, and he, as well as Paul Barberry, fell upon Matt.

The attack had been so sudden that Andy and Matt were hardly prepared to defend themselves. The former was forced over on his back, and despite his utmost exertions, was unable to remove his assailant's hand from his mouth.

Matt was thrown over on his side, and while Paul Barberry held one of his arms, the other man tried to force him into silence.

"Make a single sound and I'll kick you in the face," he ejaculated in a low, but intense tone.

"Help! help!" cried Matt, ignoring the threat entirely, and he continued to call out so long as his breath lasted.

The burly ruffian tried to kick him as he had promised, but with his disengaged hand Matt caught his foot, and after dancing about to regain his balance, the man came down heavily across the young auctioneer's legs.

The force of the fall was so great that Matt cried out shrilly with pain. For the moment he imagined that both of his limbs must be broken.

"Clap your hand over his mouth, Barberry!" cried the burly man, as he struggled to regain his feet. "Confound you, boy, I'll teach you to throw me!"

He sprang at Matt, but not before the young auctioneer had had a chance to turn over and spring up. Matt realized what was at stake, and knew he must fight his best or the worst would happen.

Before the man could touch him Matt placed Barberry between them. Then he gave the corn doctor a push that sent him staggering up against his companion.

In the meantime, poor Andy was still flat on his back, unable to speak or to move. His assailant was on top of him, and there did not appear to be any immediate relief in sight.

Seeing this, Matt, as soon as he had freed himself, leaped to his partner's assistance. He caught the ruffian by the shoulders, and with a sharp jerk sent him sprawling flat upon his back on a number of sharp stones.

"Go at them with stones, Andy," shouted Matt, as he himself stooped to pick up a small rock which lay at his feet. "We ought to show them no mercy!"

"That's true," panted his partner as he followed the suggestion by arming himself with several handy missiles. "They are a set of cowards in my opinion."

"We'll show you if we are!" cried the fellow who had first attacked Matt. "Come on, Barberry, we must make them prisoners!"

And once more he sprang forward, while the fellow on his back, with a groan of pain, staggered up to lend his assistance in the struggle.

But now came help for Matt and Andy from an unexpected quarter. There was a crashing through the brush, and a tall form the thieves did not recognize burst into view. It was Ramson, the mountaineer.

"Wot's a-going on here, anyway?" shouted the mountaineer in a tone of wonder. "Fighting worse nor a lot of bears, I declare! Wot's it all about?"

"Help us, won't you?" cried Matt. "These are the fellows who stole the turn-out, and they will not give it up."

"Won't, hey? Well, it's your'n, ain't it?"

"It certainly is, and if you will help us you shall have that reward," put in Andy. "This is the main thief, and the other two are helping him," and he pointed to Paul Barberry.

Without more ceremony, the tall mountaineer strode forward and caught Barberry by the shoulder and gave him such a twist about that the pretended doctor howled with pain.

"These two young men are honest fellows, I take it," he said. "And if you imagine you can do them out of their rights you are mistaken, at least so long as I am around. Now just you stand still while I attend to your helpers, and I'll—hullo! if they ain't gone and run away!"

Ramson was right. Hardly had he made his little speech than Paul Barberry's two companions had taken time by the forelock and made a rush for the brush. Matt and Andy dashed after them, but it was useless, for a few seconds later they disappeared in the darkness.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

BACK TO THE VILLAGE.

"Never mind, let them go," said Andy, as he saw the mountaineer make a movement as if to follow the retreading pair. "I do not think that they have any of the stolen things in their possession."

"But they ought to be locked up," insisted Ramson. "Such thieves ought never to be allowed their liberty."

"I agree with you, but as matters stand, we cannot bother to follow them just now."

"Maybe this fellow will tell us who they were. I didn't get a square look at them," went on the mountaineer, who felt sore to think the pair had gotten away thus easily.

"Yes, I imagine we can learn from Barberry who they are," put in Matt, as he caught the pretended doctor by the arm. "Don't you try to run," he added.

Paul Barberry appeared greatly disconcerted. He had not expected this sudden turn of affairs, and he knew not what to say or do.

"March him up to the wagon and light the other lantern," said Andy. "I see the fire is going out."

"I'll soon fix that," returned Ramson, and he threw on some dry twigs, causing the fire to blaze up merrily. "They were making themselves quite at home."

"What are you going to do with me?" asked Barberry sullenly, as he found himself surrounded, with no hope of escape.

"Before we answer that question we wish to ask a few on our account," returned Andy. "Now tell us who your companions were."

"A couple of tramps I picked up in Phillipsburg."

"Tramps?"

"That is what I call them. They were bound for Easton to sell prize packages of toilet soap."

"Fakirs, like yourself," put in Matt. "How did you come to pick them up? Were you afraid to steal the outfit alone?"

"I didn't say I stole the outfit."

"No, but you did, nevertheless. Now, how did you happen to fall in with those fakirs?"

"Will you let me go if I tell you?"

"Certainly not," cried the boy. "We intend to put you where you will not be able to steal any more for some time to come."

"Arrest me?" exclaimed Paul Barberry, in great alarm. Evidently he had not thought such a thing at all likely.

"Yes," put in Andy. "And unless you do as we wish you to it may go mighty hard with you."

"But I'll stick to it that I bought the turn-out," returned the corn salve doctor, trying to put on a bold front. "You'll have to prove that you didn't make the sale. I won't be bulldozed."

"Get a rope and bind him, Matt," said Andy, paying no attention to the last remark. "We'll take him to the nearest police station. I suppose there will have to be some papers made out before he can be taken back to New Jersey."

The young auctioneer sprang into the wagon and soon brought forth a long and stout rope. Paul Barberry watched these preparations with an anxious face, and when Ramson stepped forward to aid in making him a close prisoner he began to wilt.

"See here," he said, addressing Andy and Matt, "I don't want to be locked up. It would injure my reputation to a great extent. I am willing to admit that I have done wrong, but I—I—did it by mistake. I haven't felt well for several days, and my head has been affected, that's the whole truth of the matter. When I get those spells I don't know what I am doing."

"He's a good one at crawling," remarked Ramson in disgust. "He'll get over the spells when he's locked up."

In spite of his protestations and pleadings, Barberry was tightly bound and fastened to the rear of the wagon. Then Billy, who had had quite a rest, was harnessed up once more, and with Matt on the seat and Ramson going on ahead to pick the way, they started off for the village, Andy keeping in the rear to see to it that their prisoner should not escape.

The way was dark and uncertain, but the tall mountaineer proved a good and careful guide, and at the end of an hour and a half the worst part of the journey was over. They entered the village just as the town clock was striking one.

"If you want the man arrested you had better take him directly to Justice Harwig's house," said Ramson. "He does all the law business in these parts."

So to that individual's cottage they turned, and Matt sprang from the wagon and used the old-fashioned knocker vigorously. A long silence followed, and then a window upstairs was raised and a head adorned with a nightcap was thrust out.

"What's wanted?"

"We've got a criminal for ye, judge," called out Ramson. "The fellow as run away with that auction turn-out."

"A criminal, eh? All right, I'll be down in a minnit!"

The head disappeared and the window was closed. Five minutes passed and then a light appeared in a wing of the house, and the justice opened the door to what he termed his office.

"Now, what's it all about?" he asked in a sleepy voice.

All hands entered the place, Andy and the mountaineer leading Paul Barberry, who looked anything but comfortable. The prisoner was marched up before the justice's desk, and the others ranged themselves alongside of him, while Justice Harwig, a very pleasant man, made himself comfortable to listen to what all hands might have to say.

The hearing was a short one, and at its conclusion Paul Barberry was marched off to the village lock-up, the justice stating that he would notify the Phillipsburg authorities, so that they could get the necessary papers and take him away.

Barberry did all he could to beg off, offering at the last moment to pay a fine equal to the amount of money in his pocket—eighteen dollars. But neither the justice nor the others would listen to this. Had he not made the fight, Matt and Andy might have had some pity on him, but they were but human and could not so easily forget the blows they had suffered at the hands of the thieves.

It was not deemed worth while to send out any one to look for the two men who had escaped, and after Barberry was safe in jail the young auctioneers drove over to the tavern and put up there for the night. Ramson accompanied them, and before parting with the mountaineer they paid him the reward that had been promised, for which he was very thankful.

On the following morning Matt and Andy lost no time in starting back for Easton, telling Justice Harwig that they would report to the authorities in Phillipsburg whenever wanted. They found that the turn-out had suffered no damage by being stolen. The new goods which had been in the cases had been stored away in some confusion, but Andy soon straightened this out.

"I tell you we can consider ourselves very lucky to get out of this so nicely," he said, after he had finished his work and knew all was right. "As it stands, we will be out hardly a cent."

"Yes, we were lucky," returned Matt. "But we wouldn't have been had we taken that freight agent's advice and remained on the other side of the Delaware."

"Well, no doubt he'll be glad to learn that we have recovered the goods. It saves him something like seventy-eight dollars."

"We will lose the best part of to-day's trade, for we won't be able to get back much before two or three o'clock."

"Never mind, the city is full of people, and we ought to do best in the evening," replied Andy.

It was a cool, clear day, and although both were rather tired from the adventures of the night before, they enjoyed the drive back to Easton. At first Andy drove, while Matt took it easy on the goods in the back of the wagon, and when half the distance was covered the partners changed places, so that by the time the store they had previously hired was reached, both were sufficiently rested to go ahead with the duties on hand.

They lost no time in transferring the stock to the store shelves, after which Andy drove off with the wagon and found a stable where the turn-out might be put up during their stay. Matt arranged the stock on the shelves, and made a great window display. The red flag was hung out, and inside of an hour afterward business was in full swing.



CHAPTER XXIX.

UNDESIRABLE CUSTOMERS.

Among their customers they numbered a great many fire laddies, and these they made it a point to treat extra well, selling them goods at almost cost. As a consequence the firemen told their friends, and by eight o'clock that evening the store was packed.

"This is going to be the banner day after all," whispered Andy, just after making several good sales. "I believe we can keep things moving until midnight."

They found a great demand for pocket-knives and cheap jewelry, and by playing on the instruments they sold over three dozen mouth harmonicas and three accordions. Then Andy and Matt gave a duet on the violin and banjo, and as a consequence, sold both of the instruments they had handled.

The music had attracted even a greater crowd, and among the people were four tall and rather ugly-looking colored men. They shoved their way forward rudely, causing some timid customers to leave in a hurry, and then began to laugh and joke among themselves in a loud and coarse manner.

"I am afraid we are going to have trouble with those chaps," whispered Matt to his partner. "They have been drinking, and they are out for a lark."

"That's my idea, too," returned Andy. "We must watch them closely."

For a few minutes the young auctioneers paid no attention to the four negroes, excepting to see that they did not take up something without laying it down again. The fellows moved around through the crowd, and at length two of them leaned up heavily against one of the show-cases which belonged to the store fixtures.

The combined weight of the two men was too much for the top glass of the case, and with a sharp crack it broke into half a dozen pieces.

"Hullo! dat glass dun gone and got broke!" cried one of the negroes. "I wonder how dat happened?"

"You broke that glass!" exclaimed Matt sharply. "You and your companion."

"Me?" returned the offender in pretended surprise.

"Yes, you—and your friend."

"Dat ain't so at all, boss! We didn't touch dat yere glass. Did we, Jeff?"

"'Deed we didn't, Tooker."

"We didn't come in here to do no kind ob damage, boss."

"Never mind what you came in for," returned Matt. "You broke the glass and you will have to pay for it."

At the young auctioneer's statement the faces of all four of the colored men took on a savage look. They had drifted in to do pretty much as they pleased, and had not expected to meet with such strong and sudden opposition.

"I won't pay for nuffin!" growled the ringleader of the quartet. "I dun reckon somebody else in the crowd broke the glass."

"Cos da did," replied another of the colored men. "Maybe yo' think yo' kin lay it on us just because we is colored, hey?"

"Not at all; a colored man can be as much of a gentleman as any one—if he wishes to be," put in Andy.

"Do youse mean to insinuate dat we ain't gen'men?" questioned one of the crowd roughly.

"You are not gentlemen when you break glass and refuse to pay for it," returned Andy. "That glass is worth at least a dollar, and unless it is paid for, somebody will be handed over to the police."

"Huh! do yo' fink yo' kin scare us, boss?"

"Yo' say another word an' we'll do up de hull place!"

"We is as good as any white trash, remember dat!"

In the meantime one of the colored men slid his hand into the show-case which had been damaged, and essayed to grab a small box of watch-chains which rested close by. Matt saw the movement, slick as it was, just in time, and springing forward he caught the colored man by the arm.

"Drop that box!" he cried sternly.

"Oh, I wasn't gwine to take de box," returned the would-be offender. "I was jess gwine to look at yo' stock. How much is dem chains worth?"

"I am not selling chains to you to-night," returned Matt.

He had hardly spoken when Andy leaned over his shoulder and whispered into his ear:

"Talk to them for a few minutes, and I'll slip out and notify the police. Treat them well until I get back."

And the next instant Matt's partner had disappeared into the crowd, without any of the colored men noticing his departure.

"Yo' don't want to sell me any chain?" repeated the colored man.

"Not to-night."

"Why not?"

"This isn't chain night. I'm selling harmonicas and banjos."

"Well, let's see some banjos den," put in another of the negroes, and he winked at his companions, thinking that Matt had become too scared to refer to the broken show-case again.

"All right, but I don't want any more show-cases broken," returned the young auctioneer.

He took a banjo from one of the cases and began to tune it up slowly.

"Kin yo' play us a jig?" asked one of the colored men, while the white people in the place looked on in wonder at the turn affairs had taken.

"Oh, yes, I can play a jig," returned Matt coolly.

"Den give us one now."

"You will have to wait until I am done tuning up, gentlemen."

"All right, we'll wait."

Matt tuned up more slowly than ever, and even allowed one of the strings to break that he might gain an extra minute in repairing the damage. At last, after fully five minutes had passed, the banjo was in order for use, and the young auctioneer struck off a few chords.

"Now give us dat jig if yo' kin play it," said the colored man impatiently. He was the same who had tried to steal the box of chains.

"I won't play a jig until you and your companion pay for the glass you broke," returned Matt shortly, and he laid down the instrument abruptly, and folded his arms.

"Wot?" roared the colored men in concert.

"You heard what I said."

"See here; do yo' want us to smash de hull place?" demanded the ringleader of the disturbers.

"I don't think you'll smash anything more," replied Matt.

"I won't, hey? We'll see!"

The colored man made a movement as if to strike the young auctioneer in the face. But before the blow could land he was hauled back by a strong arm. He and his companions looked around and found themselves confronted by two policemen whom Andy had fortunately met upon the corner below.

The two colored men who had kept somewhat in the background at once sneaked through the crowd and escaped through the open doorway. The other two, the ones who had done the damage, were held by the policemen, much to their discomfiture.

A lively talk followed, and then upon payment for the damage done, the colored men were allowed to go, first being warned by Matt and Andy not to show themselves in the store again. Had they not paid up they would have been arrested.

After this scene was ended one of the policemen remained in the vicinity of the place for all the while the store remained open. But nothing more occurred to disturb the auction sales.

Business in Easton was so good that they remained there until Tuesday of the following week. During that time they took in nearly two hundred dollars, leaving them a profit, after all expenses were met, of forty-five dollars.

On Saturday morning Matt and Andy were called to Belvidere, the county seat, to testify against Barberry for the robbery at Phillipsburg. Strange to say, Barberry pleaded guilty, so the two boys had no trouble in the way of being detained as witnesses against him. The corn salve doctor was held for sentence.

After leaving Easton Matt and Andy struck out for Bethlehem and Allentown. The weather was now growing gradually colder, but they calculated that they would have at least a month of weather which would be fit to travel in, even in this mountainous country.

"At Allentown we can stop long enough for me to take a trip to Philadelphia and buy goods," remarked Andy as they were driving out of Easton.

"Just as you say," returned Matt. "I am glad we have to stock up so often, and I am looking forward to the time when it will be necessary for us to buy a larger wagon and get another horse to put beside Billy."

"It will hardly pay us to buy another horse this fall. You must remember that we are to locate in some place during the winter. I have no desire to move around much when the thermometer is below the freezing point."

They were soon on the outskirts of Easton, and then they struck a rather rough road leading over numerous hills and around jagged rocks.

"By jinks! I believe we have missed the way," remarked Matt, as at last he brought Billy to a standstill. "That stable-keeper said the road was a good one, and I fail to find this so."

"We'll stop at the next house and find out," returned Andy. "Do you see any place in sight?"

"There is a cottage down in the hollow yonder. Stay here with Billy, and I'll ask the way there."

Matt sprang from the wagon and was soon hurrying across a barren bit of pasture land that led down to a brook which was all but dried up. The cottage stood upon the bank of the brook, and walking up to it, the young auctioneer rapped upon the door.

There was an exclamation of surprise from within, and then he was asked to enter. He did so, and was greatly vexed to find himself in the presence of three of the colored men who had created the disturbance in the store but a few nights before!



CHAPTER XXX.

A DASH FROM DANGER.

Had Matt known that he would meet three of the colored men in the cottage in the hollow, it is more than likely that he would not have gone near the place.

When he and Andy had had the trouble at the store, the two men who had been compelled to pay for the broken glass had gone off in anything but a happy frame of mind, and the young auctioneer had then remarked to his partner that they might have trouble with the men should they chance to meet them away from police protection.

Matt saw at once that the negroes recognized him, and that his reception would be far from agreeable. Had he been less courageous he would have turned and fled, but as it was, he stood his ground.

All three of the colored men had been seated around a kitchen table playing cards, but at his entrance the two who had been the primary cause of the former trouble sprang to their feet and came toward him.

"Huh! what brings yo' heah?" demanded the ringleader of the mischief-makers wrathfully.

For the instant Matt hardly knew how to reply. He recognized his mistake in coming to the cottage, and he was anxious now to make as early a departure as possible.

"Do you live here?" he asked boldly.

"Yes we do," returned the colored man.

"Then I have made a mistake in coming here. I thought some one else might live here."

And he took a step backward to the door.

"Hol' on!" exclaimed the colored man, coming still closer. "What brung yo' heah?"

"I wanted to find out if we were on the right road, that was all. But I can find out elsewhere."

"Whar's yo' wagon?"

"Over on the road," and Matt waved his hand in the direction.

"Gwine to leave Easton?" questioned the second colored man.

"Yes."

No sooner had Matt made the reply than the three colored men glanced at each other, and the ringleader whispered to his companions.

"See yeah, yo' ain't gwine befo' we is squar' wid yo'!" he cried, as he caught Matt by the arm.

"Let go of me!" exclaimed the young auctioneer. "I won't stand being molested!"

"We'll see about dat!" cried the second colored man, and he also caught hold of Matt.

"Close dat doah, Shelby!" went on the ringleader, to the man still at the table. "Dis is just de chance we wanted at dis yeah boy!"

The man addressed at once arose, and rushing to the somewhat rickety door, not only closed it, but also locked it.

Matt viewed this movement with increased alarm, and squirmed to release himself, but without avail.

"Yo' can't git away from us, nohow!" cried the ringleader, as he squeezed the young auctioneer's arm until Matt thought he would crack a bone. "We is gwine for to teach you a lesson, boy, dat yo' won't forgit in a long while!"

"Help! help!" yelled Matt, without more ado, realizing that the situation was becoming suddenly desperate.

He had barely time to repeat his cry when the ringleader of the negroes clapped his big hand over his mouth. Then he was forced over backward upon the floor.

"Go frough his pockets, Jeff!"

"Dat's wot I intends to do, Tooker!"

"He's got a putty good watch."

"Maybe he's got a lot o' money, too."

The rascals began to go through Matt's pockets, and he called Jeff made a movement toward relieving the boy of his watch and chain.

The timepiece had once belonged to Mr. Lincoln, and to the young auctioneer it was a valuable heirloom. The thought that he was to be deprived of it angered him more than did anything else, and he began to kick out hotly right and left.

The negroes were not prepared for this, and before they could guard against it, one received a severe blow in the chin, and the other had the toe of Matt's shoe nearly knock out his eye. They both gave sharp cries of pain and fell back, and taking advantage of this Matt leaped to his feet.

"Open that!" he commanded, to the third negro, who stood with his back against the door. "Open that before I make it warm for you also!"

But the colored man would not budge, and Matt was compelled to attack him in his fight for freedom.

The young auctioneer was thoroughly aroused, and now showed what muscle he had gained during his free-and-easy life on the road. He attacked the man without hesitation, and forcing him aside, compelled him to keep away from the door by blows and kicks delivered with surprising rapidity.

The man had, at the last moment, taken the key from the lock and thrown it in the far corner of the room. Not waiting to recover this, Matt began to hammer at the door, and gathering himself together, threw his whole weight against it.

As has been said, the door was a rickety one, and it went down with a crash, tumbling the young auctioneer upon his face just outside the cottage.

"Hullo! what on earth does this mean?" cried a voice close by, and Andy rushed up, a look of blank astonishment plainly depicted upon his face.

"Those negroes!" gasped Matt, struggling to rise from amid the wreckage of the door. "Come on, don't wait, for they are three to two, and they are just drunk enough to be as ugly as sin!"

He caught Andy by the arm, and before the latter could ask for a further explanation, hurried him up the hill toward the wagon.

The negroes came out of the cottage and made after them, but only for a short distance. Then they came to a sudden halt, and after a brief consultation, hurried back to the cottage.

"What do you suppose they went back for—pistols and razors?" questioned Andy, as they reached the turn-out, and he unhitched Billy from the tree to which he had been tied.

"No, they are afraid we are going after the police," returned Matt, springing up to the seat. "Every one of that crowd ought to be in jail this minute!" he went on bitterly.

"What did they do to you?"

"Nearly robbed me!" And in a few brief words he related what had happened to him.

"Well, do you want to go back to Easton and make a complaint?" asked Andy, when he had finished.

"No, I am sick of having to do with the police, Andy. All I want is to be let alone."

"That's my sentiment, Matt. We are out for business—and money—not trouble."

Andy sprang up beside Matt, and it was soon decided by the partners to continue on the road until another house should appear. They looked back, but saw nothing more of the negroes, and then started off.

They passed through a bit of woods and down a long hill. Here they found a neat farmhouse, where a pleasant enough woman was sitting upon the doorstep, knitting socks.

"This is one road, but it is not the best road," replied the woman, in reply to Andy's question regarding the way to Bethlehem. "But now you are this far, you had better keep on, for it will be harder to turn back."

"How far is it to the town?"

"Not over a mile and a half."

"And is the road fairly good from here?"

"Oh, yes; you can get along very well."

"Then we will continue," returned Andy. "By the way," he went on, "do you know anything of the negroes that live in the cottage back a ways?"

The woman's face lost its smile and she sighed.

"Yes, I know them only too well," she replied. "They have stolen so many of our chickens and so much garden truck that my husband is going to make a complaint against them. I wish they would leave the neighborhood."

"I trust your husband succeeds in having them all locked up," put in Matt, "for they richly deserve it." And after a few words more with the farmer's wife they passed on.

It was getting on toward noon when they finally arrived at Bethlehem, that pretty little town on the Lehigh River. They drove past several of the silk mills, and finally found a livery stable, at which Billy and the wagon were put up.

"It looks as if we might do some business here," said Andy, as they started for a restaurant for dinner. "Let us open up this afternoon if possible."

"Shall we hire a store?"

"Let us try to sell from the wagon first."

Immediately after dinner they procured a license and found a suitable corner. They did all in their power to attract a crowd, and finally, toward evening, when the working people were on their way home, succeeded in bringing quite an assemblage around them.

But, strange to say, they could not make a single sale, try their best. Both used up all their eloquence; Matt played on the banjo and mouth harmonica, and Andy told funny stories. It was no use; the crowd merely smiled or frowned, and then one after another drifted away.

"This is the worst luck yet," whispered Andy to Matt. "I never dreamed that we would strike anything like this."

A stout German who stood in the crowd saw the look of wonder and disappointment on Andy's face, and he laughed heartily.

"You ton't vos caught der same pirds twice alretty!" he chuckled to several bystanders.

"What's that?" questioned Matt, who overheard the remark.

"You ton't vos caught der same pirds twice mit der same salt," returned the German, and he laughed heartily at what he considered a good joke, while those around smiled and nodded approvingly.

"I must say I don't see the joke," said Matt cheerfully. "Won't you let me in the secret?"

"Dose udder fellers vos schwindle us, put you can't do it twice times!" was the reply.

"Other fellows swindled you?" repeated Matt.

"Yes, dose fellers mit dot wagon vot vas here all last week. I don't dink but vot you vos der same crowd of fellers!"



CHAPTER XXXI.

DANGEROUS MOUNTAIN TRAVELING.

Both Matt and Andy began to smell a mouse, as the saying is, and they lost no time in questioning not only the German, but several other people that remained around the wagon.

The young auctioneers soon learned that a rival party of auctioneers with a large two-horse wagon had stopped at the town during the entire previous week, and sold goods which were next to worthless, for the highest prices to be obtained. They had been cool and shrewd men, thoroughly dishonest, and they had swindled every one who had had dealings with them.

"And where did they go to?" asked Andy, of the German, after the matter had been talked over for some time.

"Ve ton't know. Of ve did ve vould tar an' fedder dem, py chiminy!" was the emphatic reply.

"That settles it, we won't be able to do any business here," said Matt, and though they remained in Bethlehem the remainder of that day and all of the next, his words proved true. Only a few trifles were sold, and these at prices that did not reimburse them for the trouble of handling.

Seeing that it would not pay to remain in the town longer, they started once more on the road, and by the end of the week found themselves established in a store in Allentown, and doing quite a good business.

While in this city Andy made a trip to Philadelphia, and had several more cases of goods shipped on, which Matt was careful to procure before they might be stolen from the freight depot. The wagon was also sent to a repair shop and thoroughly overhauled, for the roads beyond Allentown promised to be rougher than those heretofore traversed.

Both Matt and Andy were curious to know more about the rival auctioneers, and they wondered if they would meet the men. Nothing had been heard of them in Allentown, so that their business in that city was not injured. They did fairly well, although a strike in some of the mills made business duller than it would otherwise have been.

But both of the partners thought they had no cause for complaint. During the time they had been away from home they had cleared, above all expenses, one hundred and seventy-two dollars, which, equally divided, was eighty-six dollars apiece—not a fortune, but still an amount which Matt at least viewed with considerable satisfaction.

"If we do as well right straight through," he said, as he and Andy talked it over on their way to Lehighton and Mauch Chunk, "we will have quite an amount to place to our credit in the bank by the time we reach New York again."

"I am in hopes that we will do even better as cold weather comes on," returned Andy. "Folks seem to buy more then—I don't know why. And besides, after stopping at Mauch Chunk, we will only go to large places, for I think it will pay to skip the smaller ones."

"I don't know but what you are right. I know one thing that I am going to do when I get to Mauch Chunk—that is, if business continues good."

"And what is that?"

"I am going to buy a post-office order and send Miss Bartlett the money she so kindly loaned me. Won't she be surprised to get it back so soon?"

"No doubt of it, Matt. It was very kind of her to loan it to you. I suppose you are going to pay her the interest——"

"For the full year," finished the boy. "And at Christmas, if I can do it, I'm going to make her some sort of a nice present. She is the only friend I had left in New York."

"A very nice young lady," returned Andy, and then he went on, with a short laugh: "I wonder what old Caleb Gulligan would say if he knew of our prosperity?"

"And I wonder what Mr. Randolph Fenton would say if he knew how I was doing? I hope when I write to Miss Bartlett that she lets him know," went on Matt. "I suppose he thought that after he discharged me I would go to the dogs."

"Yes, men like him very often imagine the world cannot possibly get along without them. I reckon you are glad that you are no longer in his employ."

"Glad isn't a strong enough word, Andy. It makes me shudder to look back at the times I spent in his offices, being bossed around and scolded from morning to night."

"I think traveling around has done us both a deal of good, Matt. I feel stronger than I have in years, and you look the picture of health, barring those bruises you received from Barberry and his companions."

"Oh, I feel fine! Outdoor life always did agree with me. When I was in Fenton's offices I felt very much like a prisoner in a jail. I wouldn't go back to that life again for the world!"

Thus the talk ran on, from one subject to another. Andy had given his young partner the full particulars of his own roving life, and in return Matt had related everything concerning himself, and the two felt as if they had known each other for years; in fact, as Matt once stated later on, they were more like brothers than mere partners in business.

Andy was deeply interested in the fact of Mr. Lincoln's disappearance, and he wondered nearly as much as did Matt himself if the unfortunate man would ever turn up again.

As for the boy, he could not bring himself to believe that his parent was dead, and although he rarely mentioned his father's name, he was constantly on the watch for him, and often when they were stopping at a place he would go off on what he termed a "still hunt," hoping thereby to pick up a stray bit of information which would put him on the right track to learn of his father's whereabouts.

The drive up through Walnut Port to Lehigh Gap was very nice. At the latter place they stopped over night, and then pushed on to Lehighton, sometimes along the river, and then by way of a road through and around the mountains.

"This scenery is just grand!" cried Matt, as they were driving on about ten o'clock in the forenoon. "Just look at that mountain over yonder! And see how the river winds along through the valley below here!"

"It is very fine, indeed!" returned Andy. "But I'll tell you what: I would rather be on horseback than in the wagon. It seems to me that some of the bends around the mountain side are positively dangerous."

"Oh, I guess not, Andy. Why, look, there is a regular wagon road. If other wagons can pass along here, I fancy we can do so, too."

"Other wagons may not be as heavy as ours, with that big case tied on behind. Don't you notice how Billy slips every once in awhile?"

"Well, we might have had him shod sharp when we had the wagon overhauled," returned Matt slowly, as he noticed for the first time that Billy did slip more than usual. "We can have it done during our stop at Mauch Chunk or at Lehighton, if it becomes necessary. Maybe we are on the wrong road again."

"Well, certainly this road is growing worse instead of better," said Andy soberly. "Just look at that turn ahead! The road isn't over ten feet wide, and it slopes down to that steep hill——"

"Drive as close to the inside wall as you can," was Matt's somewhat nervous reply, as he saw the possible danger ahead. "Steady now, Billy, steady!"

The horse moved along slowly up to the curve which ran around the mountain side. As Andy had said, the road at this point was scarcely ten feet wide, and on the other side was a steep downward slope, terminating below at a tiny brook filled with loose rocks.

The curve was reached, and the two were just congratulating themselves upon having passed the dangerous spot in safety, when a large bird, flying from a near-by bush, frightened Billy and caused him to shy to one side.

In another instant the wagon was at the very edge of the slope!



CHAPTER XXXII.

AN INTERESTING LETTER.

To Andy and Matt it looked as if the entire turn-out must slide down the hillside to the bottom, there to be smashed into a hundred pieces.

It was small wonder, therefore, that both gave a loud cry of alarm and that both caught at the lines to lead Billy away from the danger so imminent.

The horse continued to move ahead, but instead of drawing closer to the inside, he walked upon the very outer edge of the road.

"I'll lead him!" cried Andy, and while Matt continued to hold the lines, he sprang out and caught Billy by the bridle.

Ordinarily, the faithful animal would have come along willingly, but he now seemed to grow obstinate, and pulled back when Andy caught hold. The wagon stopped, and then the rear wheels were sent partly down the slope.

"Pull him up!" cried Matt. "Pull him, Andy!"

"He won't come!" gasped Andy, tugging at the bridle with might and main.

"But he must come! The wagon will go down in another second!"

"I can't help it, I can't make him come," panted Andy, between his clinched teeth, as he renewed the struggle to bring the wagon up on the level once more.

Tying the lines fast, Matt sprang out. He had seen a loose stone of fair size close at hand, and this he now picked up. Running around to the rear of the wagon, he placed it on the sloping ground so that one of the wheels was blocked from further slipping.

"Good!" cried Andy. "Can you find another stone?"

"I'm going to push on the other wheel. Get up, Billy, get up there!"

Matt placed his shoulder to the wheel, and exerted all of his strength, and seeing this, Andy also urged the horse. Billy gave a tug—there was a moment's strain—and then the turn-out rolled up once more upon the level road.

"Thank goodness for that!" burst out Andy. "I thought for a moment that it was a goner!"

"So did I, Andy. You had better lead him until we reach a safer bit of the road."

"I intend to do that. And after this I'll know enough to lead him around such a bend, instead of taking such a dangerous chance."

Only a hundred feet further on the mountain road left the proximity of the slope, and then the two once more climbed up on the seat. Billy, the horse, did not appear to be in the least disturbed over the adventure, but Matt and Andy were bathed in a cold perspiration which did not leave them until some time after.

At Lehighton, where they stopped for dinner, they determined to drive right through to Mauch Chunk, four miles further on. Many people from the former place did their trading at Mauch Chunk, and the young auctioneers thought they would catch just as much trade by not stopping on the way.

At Mauch Chunk a stop was made for three days, and during that time there were several excursions to the place from New York and Philadelphia, the city folks coming up to see the autumnal beauties of Glen Onoko and the various mountains through which the Switchback gravity road runs. These crowds helped business some, and the stay proved nearly as profitable as the one at Easton had been.

On the first day at Mauch Chunk Matt procured the money order of which he had spoken, and sent it to Ida Bartlett, with a long letter, in which he thanked her for her kindness, and gave her an account of the trip since leaving the metropolis. He stated that if she wished to write to him within the week to address the letter to Wilkesbarre, or, on the following week to Scranton, as they were bound for both places.

During their spare hours both Andy and Matt took the ride on the gravity road and enjoyed it very much. The rhododendrons were out in full bloom, and Matt wished he could send Ida Bartlett a bunch of the beautiful flowers.

They were soon once again on the road. But Billy's shoes had been carefully attended to, and now they were very careful whenever they came to a spot that looked at all dangerous.

"One scare is enough," was the way Andy put it, and Matt thoroughly agreed with him.

After leaving Mauch Chunk they passed through Penn Haven and Leslie Run, and so on to White Haven. At the latter place they stopped for two days, but found it very unprofitable, as there was little or no money afloat.

"Well, we have to take the bad with the good," said Andy, in reply to Matt's remark concerning the dullness of trade. "We cannot expect to make money wherever we go. If that was to be done, I reckon there would be many other auctioneers in the field."

"That reminds me: I wonder what has become of those auctioneers we heard of in Bethlehem?"

"I'm sure I don't know. But it is likely that we will hear from them again, sooner or later."

On leaving White Haven for Wilkesbarre, they struck the first snow-storm of the season. It was not a heavy storm, and yet, as the wind blew in their faces, the drive of thirty miles proved anything but pleasant. They were glad enough when the city was reached, and they were able to put up the turn-out at a livery stable and warm up around the office stove.

"We won't be able to travel much longer, if this keeps on," remarked Andy. "We'll have to pick out some place to settle down in for the winter."

"Have you any place in view?" asked Matt, with interest.

"I've had my eye on Middletown, New York State. That's a lively place, and it gets a trade from a good many miles around."

"Do you think we can make it?"

"I think so. We can go from Scranton to Carbondale, and Honesdale, and so on through Lackawaxen and Port Jervis. By taking that route we can stop on the way and still reach Middletown inside of two weeks."

"Well, I shouldn't like to miss a letter from Miss Bartlett, if it was sent."

"You can leave directions to forward it if it comes after we are gone. The post-office authorities will willingly send the letter wherever you direct."

"Perhaps she has already written."

"If you think so, why don't you call at the post-office and find out?"

"I will—as soon as we have had something to eat and drink."

They passed over to the Commercial Hotel, and after brushing up, entered the dining-room. Here a late dinner was served for them, and it is needless to say that both did full justice to all that was set before them.

After they had finished Andy went off to hunt up an empty store, and Matt, after securing directions, walked off to the post-office.

To his delight, there was a letter for him, and addressed in Ida Bartlett's hand. As it was the first letter he had received since being on the road, the reader can understand his curiosity to master its contents. Standing back in an out-of-the-way spot of the corridor, he split open the envelope with his penknife, and was soon reading that which had been written.

The letter surprised him not a little. After acknowledging the receipt of the money order and congratulating him upon his evident success, Ida Bartlett wrote as follows:

"And now, Matt, I am going to tell you something that I think will interest you even more than it does me. It is about Mr. Fenton and the mining shares which he once sold your father. Last week Mr. Gaston, the bookkeeper, had a quarrel with Mr. Fenton, and was discharged. Before he left, however, he and Mr. Fenton had some high words, which I, being in the next office, could not help hearing.

"During this quarrel something was said about the shares sold to William Lincoln, and Mr. Gaston said that if the papers in connection with the shares which your father had bought could be recovered, he would expose Mr. Fenton. I could not understand the whole drift of the matter, but Mr. Fenton seemed to be glad that your father was missing—he said he was most likely dead—and that the papers had disappeared with him.

"Do you know anything of the papers? Mr. Gaston has gone to Boston, but I could write to him if you think that Mr. Fenton is a swindler and that you can get back any money which he may have defrauded your father out of. I myself am going to leave Mr. Fenton's employ on the first of next month, having secured a better place with another firm of brokers. Let me hear from you again as soon as possible. I hope if he has any money belonging to your father you can get it."



CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE RIVAL AUCTIONEERS.

It may well be imagined that Matt read Ida Bartlett's letter with great interest. The young auctioneer had never received a communication as surprising as was this one.

He went over every word carefully several times, then placed the letter in his pocket, and started off to find Andy.

Half an hour later he came across his partner on the main street. Andy had just rented a store, one of two vacant ones which were side by side, and was now on his way to drive the wagon around and unload the stock.

"Well, did you get a letter, Matt?"

"I did."

"Good enough. Any special news?"

"Yes, indeed. Just read that."

And the young auctioneer passed the communication over for his partner's perusal.

Andy read the letter as carefully as had Matt. He emitted a long, low whistle.

"What do you think of it?"

"I hardly know what to think, Matt. Do you know anything about this mining share business?"

"I know that Randolph Fenton sold my father some shares, that is all. I never saw the certificates, if that is what they are called."

"Did you ever see the papers in connection with the shares?"

"No."

"Then they must have been in your father's possession when he disappeared."

"I don't know about that. Mother might have had them when father was first sent to the asylum for treatment. Although I remember hearing her once say that since father's mind had become affected he would not trust any one with his affairs, but kept all his money and papers hidden away."

"It's too bad you haven't the papers."

"That's so. If I had them I would hunt up Mr. Gaston, and get him to expose Randolph Fenton."

"It might pay you to do that anyway."

"I don't know. If there was any likelihood of this being the case, I think Miss Bartlett would have written to that effect."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I am going to write to her again, telling her just how matters stand with me, and ask her if she thinks it will do any good for me to come on. If she thinks it will, I'll try to manage it some way to take a run to New York."

"You can do that whenever you wish, Matt. I will take care of things the same as you did when I was gone."

On the way to the stable where the wagon and Billy were located they talked the matter over at a greater length. Andy took a warm personal interest in the matter, and did not hesitate to say so.

"If this Fenton swindled your father, I trust you are able to prove it and get your money back," he said. "I don't know of any one that deserves money more than you do."

The wagon was soon driven around to the store, and the goods unloaded. Then the show-window and the shelves were arranged to attract the eye, after which Andy hung out the red flag, which now began to look to the young auctioneers like an old friend.

As soon as everything was in shape for business Matt brought out paper, pen and ink, and set to work upon the letter to Ida Bartlett. At first he hardly knew how to express himself, but before he had finished he had filled eight pages, and told the young lady exactly how matters stood. He begged for her further assistance, and assured her that she should not lose through her kindness to him.