“Thank you!  Thank you, Mr. Whitaker!  Come on!  We’ll try it anyway, fellows.  We’ve nothing to lose and everything to gain.  Good night, Mr. Whitaker!  Thank you for what you’ve told us,” called Will Phelps, as he quickly turned and began to run.

Obediently the boys all followed Will as he ran swiftly across the field, and in a brief time they discovered the pathway to which the old minister had referred.  There was no conversation now, for the fear in every heart was that they would arrive at the ford too late to avail.  Besides, there was the likelihood that the canes would be disposed of before the wagon had gone very far from Mr. Whitaker’s house.  A multitude of fears possessed them, but they ran swiftly along the path where Will Phelps, eager and strong was leading the way.  Not once did they stop for rest.  The night air was chilling, and the clouds that swept across the face of the sky did not hide the light of the moon.

On and on they sped, steadily maintaining the dogged pace which the leader was setting for them, until at last, well-nigh winded and thoroughly tired by their exertions, they arrived at the place where the pathway joined the road and they knew that Winthrop was not more than three-quarters of a mile away.  There they halted, but they had not recovered from the effects of their long run when they perceived a farm wagon, apparently filled with bags, coming down the hill that was near them.

CHAPTER XXV

ON THE TRAIL

As the eager freshmen peered out at the approaching wagon the suppressed excitement threatened to break all bounds.  “Let’s stop him and get the canes,” suggested Hawley in a whisper.

“No.  What’ll be the good of that?  It’ll be better to follow up the wagon quietly, and then if we can find out where they put the canes, maybe a little later we can get them away without the sophs knowing anything about it.  Don’t you see we’ll be making it all the worse for them.”

“We don’t know that the canes are in the wagon,” suggested Foster.

“Of course we don’t, and it’s all the same whether we try to find out now or follow it up and find out a little later.”

“Phelps is right about it,” said Hawley.  “If the canes shouldn’t be found in the wagon, we would be making fools of ourselves if we stopped it, but if we let it go on and follow it up we’ll be all the better.”

Meanwhile the wagon itself had passed the place where the boys were concealed, and groaning and creaking had begun the ascent of the opposite hill.  Only the driver was to be seen, and his appearance and actions were unmistakable.  He was a farmer and well advanced in years, and if he was aware of the contest that was being waged between the rival classes in Winthrop it was evident that he had no share in the excitement.

“How’ll we do it, fellows?” inquired Hawley anxiously.  “He’ll get away before we get our eyes open, if we don’t look out.”