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Buckley, an old friend of the family, had a team and wagon for sale; they were strong and serviceable, and just the thing that Will would likely want. I was a minor, but if Mr. Buckley was willing to accept me as security for the property, there would be no difficulty in making the transfer. Mr. Buckley proved entirely agreeable to the proposition.
Think of gettin' a wagon strong enough to carry one; and all the slow trips it'd have to take to get 'em there and back. I reckon the whole of our vacation'd see us on the dry land part of the cruise. Now, let Paul tell us what plan he's been thinking about to get over to the Radway with 'em."
His wink missed fire, however, for the woman had departed; and by the time he reached the door to look after her he saw her mounting the wagon, which was drawn by the heavy team from Joan's farm, and driven by her hired man. As the stranger drove off he leant against the doorway and emitted a low whistle. In his own phraseology he was "beat," completely and utterly "beat."
Kid Wolf's generalship had beaten back the first outlaw charge! It was then that Modoc played his final card. Hoping to gain the protection of the outlaws, and fearing the wagon train's vengeance, he slipped out of the circle of covered wagons and, on foot, began running. His goal was ahead of him, but he never reached it.
The bullets from the rifles passed through the wagon between the two lads, but did no damage; and almost instantly the Germans charged down on them. Three shots rang out as they passed the wagon, but the boys were not touched. The Germans passed on, and then, circling back, prepared for another charge.
Carter, the elder, ordered their house-servant, an old negro named Hannibal, to tackle up a pair of stout roadsters to a two-seated wagon and drive his daughters to the merry-making. Hannibal was a fiddler of renown and that of course formed a double reason why he should go to the ball. The snow was not so deep as to delay the party materially.
I have often heard talk of "moving" in England, and have seen a cart or wagon with a man driving a load of furniture, at the rate of three miles an hour, with a woman and perhaps several children sitting on the top, or at the back; but I never before or since saw such a wholesale move as this was, for every one seemed anxious to carry as many of his effects as he could find room for.
Did ever he fail his own in the hour of need? Never, no never. Coming over the hill several blocks distant, carefully guiding his horse through the debris, was a man in a wagon or buggy. Like a drowning person grasping at a straw, I frantically called and waved my hands. It took me some time to attract attention, but finally he turned in my direction. Hallelujah!
Hal and Chester were now yelling at the top of their voices why, they never knew. Hal, crawling to the back end of the wagon and, looking out, saw the Germans ready to charge down on them again. One man, however, was jogging along close behind the wagon, his revolver held in his hand. As Hal looked out, the German stopped his horse and fired. Hal dodged back sideways.
"Oh, I forgot. Why, he likes Clara a lot, of course, but I guess they just naturally expected him to go with us. They and the Walters have a wagon together, anyway, and they wouldn't have room. We have one all to ourselves. Hello, Peter Junior! Mr. Thurbyfil, this is Mr. Junior." "Happy to meet you, Mr. Junior," said the correct Mr. Thurbyfil.
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