"You'd just better."
His problem neatly solved, Jeff relaxed. When Dan announced that he had
been assigned as her protector, Granny, in her wisdom, would accept him
as such. If he should get out of hand, the shotgun shells were loaded
with nothing but paper. They'd make a satisfactory noise but wouldn't
hurt anybody.
Jeff prepared their breakfasts, they cleaned the cabin, and with the
shotgun over one shoulder, half-pulling the unwilling Pal with his free
hand, Dan started for Granny Wilson's. Pack on his shoulder, Jeff strode
into Smithville.
There were two routes to Ackerton. The hard one was over the mountains.
The easy one was eighteen miles down the logger's road to Delview, where
a train could be boarded, and Jeff chose that way. He walked swiftly,
anxious to make time, but even as he walked he filed in his mind the
locations of the cabins he either passed or saw evidence of. There were
vast possibilities for trade around Smithville. So far he and Dan had
explored only a small part of it.
Half past twelve brought him to Delview, and Jeff walked openly down the
street. Larger than Cressman, Delview was busier, and Jeff's peddling
instincts cried for expression. He submerged them; a city was the only
place to offer the wares he carried now. Jeff stopped when a policeman
tapped his shoulder.
"Are you peddling?"
"No," Jeff answered blandly, "just passing through."
"You come from Cressman?"
"Cressman? I came from Smithville."
"Just thought I'd ask. Been fishing?"
"Hunting," Jeff said gravely.
He grinned to himself and walked on. Obviously, Pop and Joe Parker had
sent word to Delview, but just as obviously they'd told the police there
to be alert for a red-headed peddler accompanied by a huge dog. On
impulse, Jeff stopped at a drugstore, bought a postcard, addressed it to
Joe Parker, and wrote, "Thanks for sending me to Delview. Regards to
Pop. Happy days."
He signed it J. Seymour Tarrant, Esq., dropped it into a mail box, made
his way to the station and bought a ticket to Ackerton.
* * * * *
Leaving Delview at half past three, and stopping several times en route,
the train did not reach Ackerton until a quarter to eight. Jeff bore the
slow ride serenely, for only the unwise thought that they must forever
hurry. Besides, time could always be used to good advantage and the slow
train was a heaven-sent opportunity to work out a plan. Arriving in
Ackerton, Jeff had a clear idea of just what he wanted to do there.
He left the train and made a confident way through the huge station. He
had the pack on his back because that was the easiest way to carry it,
and he met the curious stares directed at him with a good-natured grin.
He was as out of place here as a well-dressed Ackertonite would have
been in Smithville, and he elicited the same curiosity. But he did not
mind because he had been in cities before and he would be forgotten as
soon as he was out of sight. Jeff's questing eyes found a paper banner
displayed above one of the station's newsstands: