The darkened wagon was nowhere to be seen. Corinne climbed a tall
stump as an observatory, and Bobaday went a piece into the bushes,
only to find that all that end of the camp was gone. The colony of
Virginians was also partly under way.

Aunt Corinne felt a certain sadness steal over her. She had brought
herself to admit the pig-headed man, with limitations. He might have
a pig's head on him, but it wasn't fast. He did it to frighten
children. She had fully intended to see him and be frightened by him
at any cost. Now he was gone like a bad dream in the night. And she
should not know if the little girl was stolen. She could only revenge
herself on Robert Day for having seen into that darkened wagon, with
the stove-pipe sticking out when she had not, by sniffing doubtfully
at every mysterious allusion to it. They did not mention the
pigheaded man to Grandma Padgett, though both longed to know if such
a specimen of natural history had ever come under her eyes. She would
have questioned then about the walk that led to this discovery. Her
prejudices against children's prowling away from their elders after
dark were very strong.

Aunt Corinne thought the pig-headed man might have come to their
carriage when they were ready to start, instead of the Virginian.

"Right along the pike?" he inquired cheerfully.

"I believe so," said Grandma Padgett.

"You'll be in our company then as far as you go. It'll be better for
you to keep in a big company."