ON THE TRACK.
One day Nicholas Bundy entered the apartment occupied jointly by
himself and Oliver, his face wearing an expression of satisfaction.
Oliver looked up from the book he was engaged in reading.
"I've found a clue, Oliver," he exclaimed.
"A clue to what, Mr. Bundy?"
"To Rupert Jones. I have ascertained that when he left Chicago he
settled down at the town of Kelso, about seventy-five miles from
Chicago, in Indiana."
"What do you propose to do?"
"To go there at once. Pack up your carpet-bag, and we will take the
afternoon train."
"All right, Mr. Bundy."
Oliver was by no means averse to a journey. He had a youthful love of
adventure that delighted in new scenes and new experiences.
At two o'clock they were at the depot, and bought tickets for Kelso.
They did not observe that they were watched narrowly by a red-headed
man, whose eyes were concealed by a pair of green glasses. Neither did
they notice that he too purchased a ticket for Kelso.
This man was Denton, who had so skilfully disguised himself with a red
wig and the glasses that Oliver, though his eyes casually fell upon
him, never dreamed who he was.
Denton bought a paper and seated himself just behind Oliver and his
guardian, so that he might, under cover of the paper, listen to their
conversation.
"What business can they have at Kelso?" he soliloquized. Then partially
answering his own question, "Rupert Jones once lived there, and their
visit must have some connection with him. There's something behind all
this that I don't understand myself. Perhaps I shall find out. Jones
was always crafty, and, as far as he could, kept his own counsel."
Denton did not glean much information from the conversation between
Oliver and Bundy. The latter, though he had no suspicion of being
watched, did not care to converse on private matters in a public place.
He was a man of prudence and kept his tongue under control.
I have said that the three passengers bought tickets to Kelso. Kelso,
however, was not on the road, and a stage for that place connected with
the station at Conway. Through tickets, however, had been purchased,
including stage tickets.
It was about half-past five when the cars halted at Conway. There was a
small depot, and a covered wagon stood beside the platform.
Oliver, Bundy, and Denton alighted.
"Any passengers for Kelso?" asked the driver of the wagon.
"Here are two," said Oliver, pointing to Bundy.
"Anyone else?"
Denton came forward, and in a low voice intimated that he was going to
Kelso.
These three proved to be the only passengers.
Now, for the first time, Oliver and his guardian looked with some
curiosity at their fellow-traveller.
"He's a queer-looking customer," thought Oliver.
Bundy thought, "Perhaps he lives at Kelso, and can tell us something
about it. I may obtain the information I want on the way there. I'll
speak to him."
"It's a pity we couldn't go all the way by cars," he said.
"Yes," said Denton briefly.
"Do you know if our ride is a long one?"
"Six miles," answered Denton, who had enquired.
"May I ask if you live in Kelso?"
"No, sir," answered Denton.
"Perhaps you can tell me if there is a hotel there?"
"I don't know."
By this time the stranger's evident disinclination to talk had
attracted Oliver's attention. He looked inquisitively at the man with
green glasses.
"There's something about that man's voice that sounds familiar," he
said to himself. "Where can I have seen him before?"
Still, the red wig and the glasses put him off the scent.
Denton grew uneasy under the boy's fixed gaze.
"Does he suspect me!" he thought. "It wouldn't do for me to speak
again."
When Bundy asked another question, he said:
"I hope you'll excuse me, sir, but I have a severe headache, and find
it difficult to converse."
"Oh, certainly," apologized Bundy.
Denton leaned his head against the back of the carriage in support of
his assertion.
The road was a bad one, jolting the vehicle without mercy. To Oliver it
was fun, but Denton evidently did not relish it. At last one jolt came,
nearly overturning the conveyance. It dislodged the green spectacles
from Denton's nose, and for a moment his eyes were exposed. He
replaced them hurriedly, but not in time. Oliver's sharp eyes detected
him.
"It's Denton!" he exclaimed internally, but he controlled his surprise
so far as not to say a word.
"He is on our track," thought our hero. "What can be his purpose?"