in the road, when they began to run swiftly. Nothing could be seen of
Peter John, and when they had gone a considerable distance Will Phelps
stopped and whistled.

At first there was no response, but when the signal had been thrice
repeated both boys heard the voice of their friend apparently coming
from behind the bushes growing on the bank directly beside them.

"All alone, Will?" called Peter John timidly.

"Yes. Yes. Where are you, Peter John?" responded Will, peering about
him, but as yet unable to determine where his friend was hiding.

"Here I am."

"Where's that?"

"Right here."

"Come out here where we are. Stand up like a little man and be counted."

"Sure nobody's with you?"

"Foster's here, that's all."

Slowly Peter John arose from his hiding-place and peered anxiously about
him. "It's all right. Come on!" called Will encouragingly. Thus bidden,
Peter John stepped forth, still holding tightly in his grasp his
precious carpet-bag. Will Phelps did not even laugh nor did he have any
inclination to do so as he perceived how genuine was the suffering of