"Oh, I hope so," said the lad with a shudder. "He's a terrible man. I must
get away from here at once."

As he spoke the boy ran to where the wagon stood and climbed upon its front
seat. As Frank, keeping up with his pace, neared the vehicle, he noticed
across its box top the words: _"Saws, knives, scissors and tools
sharpened scientifically."_

"I wish you would stay with me until I get to town," remarked the boy,
seizing the lines with many a timid look back of him.

"Oh, you want to get to town, do you?" observed Frank. "All right, I'll be
glad to show you the road."

The boy started up the horse with a sharp snap of the lines. The animal was
old and lazy, however, and could not go beyond a very slow trot.

"Turn at that point in the rise," directed Frank, pointing ahead a little
distance, "and it will be a shorter cut to town."

"Yes, yes. I want to get away from here," said Ned Foreman anxiously. "Oh,
there he is again!"

Frank followed the glance of his frightened companion to observe the tramp
in among the brush. He was slapping his face and body as if he had not yet
gotten rid of all the hornets, but he was certainly headed in the direction
of the wagon.

"Your horse won't go fast enough to keep ahead of that fellow," remarked
Frank. "Don't tremble so. He shan't bother you again if I can help it. Keep