"What's the matter?" asked his companion, noticing his sudden look of
apprehension.

Paul quickly communicated the ground of his alarm.

"And you are afraid he will want to carry you back, are you?"

"Yes."

"Not a bit of it. We'll circumvent the old fellow, unless he's sharper
than I think he is. You've only got to do as I tell you."

To this Paul quickly agreed.

The selectman was already within a hundred rods. He had not yet
apparently noticed the pedler's cart, so that this was in our hero's
favor. Mr. Stubbs had already arranged his plan of operations.

"This is what you are to do, Paul," said he, quickly. "Cock your hat on
the side of your head, considerably forward, so that he can't see much
of your face. Then here's a cigar to stick in your mouth. You can make
believe that you are smoking. If you are the sort of boy I reckon you
are, he'll never think it's you."

Paul instantly adopted this suggestion.

Slipping his hat to one side in the jaunty manner characteristic of
young America, he began to puff very gravely at a cigar the pedler
handed him, frequently taking it from his mouth, as he had seen older
persons do, to knock away the ashes. Nothwithstanding his alarm, his