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Some years ago a man in a Connecticut town stopped this hurrying traveller, who said, in reply to a question, "I have lost the road to Boston. My name is Peter Rugg." Then Rugg's disappearance half a century before was cited by those who had long memories, and people began to look askant at Peter and gave him generous road room when they met him.
She was walking along behind her brother with Grace and Nellie. "Sure, we'll let you girls ride once in a while," said Charley, as he caught up to his chum. "But you can't steer." "I steered a bob once," said Grace, who was quite athletic for her age. "It was Danny Rugg's, too." "Pooh! His is a little one alongside the one Charley and I are going to make!" exclaimed Bert.
In the morning, when Arch came down, she had indeed gone away drifted out with the tide and with the silent night. After Mat's death the home at Grandma Rugg's became insupportable to Arch. He could not remain there. The old woman was crosser than ever, and, though he gave her every penny of his earnings, she was not satisfied.
They inquired at every public house and stable in town; but it did not appear that Rugg made any stay in Boston. No one, after Rugg had passed his own door, could give any account of him; though it was asserted by some that the clatter of Rugg's horse and carriage over the pavements shook the houses on both sides of the street.
The neighbours, too, heard the same noises, and some said they knew it was Rugg's horse; the tread on the pavement was perfectly familiar to them.
The second man was posted a good two hundred yards beyond the first, and made no objection to being left in the dark, showing Dan Rugg's wisdom in selecting miners for the task in hand.
"Why!" cried Bert when he saw it. "That's Danny Rugg's cap!" "I thought so," went on Mr. Bobbsey. "Danny, and some of his chums, must have gone on the boat early this evening. They played about, as boys will, and some of them, either on purpose or accidentally, must have loosed the knots in the ropes before coming ashore. Then the boat just drifted away after that."
Under Dan Rugg's supervision, arquebuses had been cleaned and placed ready for use, and a couple of small cannon trained where they could sweep the approach to the bridge, and in turn the gateways leading into the outer and inner courts.
See him standin' with them three fellers, all close to Benson. Rugg's the little bow-legged man with the half of his face shot off. He's one-eyed. But he can shore see out of the one he's got. An', darn me! there's Hardin. You know him? He's got an outlaw gang as big as Bland's. Hardin is standin' next to Benson. See how quiet an' unassumin' he looks. Yes, thet's Hardin.
And this is credible, if, indeed, Rugg's horse and carriage did pass on that night. For at this day, in many of the streets, a loaded truck or team in passing will shake the houses like an earthquake. However, Rugg's neighbours never afterward watched again; some of them treated it all as a delusion, and thought no more of it. Others, of a different opinion, shook their heads and said nothing.
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