“Look here, you!”

Bart now turned in the right direction.  A man of about thirty had revealed himself from the brush.

He had small, bright eyes, a shrewd, narrow face, and Bart knew from discription who he was—­Buck Tolliver.

“Why, hello! somebody here?” exclaimed Bart, feigning surprise and then fright, and he made a movement as if to run for it.

“Don’t you bolt,” ordered Buck Tolliver, advancing—­“come back here, kid.”

Bart slowly retraced his steps.  Then he manifested new alarm as a second figure stepped out from the brush.

Recalling what the Millville postmaster had told him, the young express agent was quickly aware that this second individual was Buck’s brother, Hank.

Buck was the spokesman and leader.  He came up near to Bart and looked him over critically.

“What you doing here?” he demanded, with a suspicious frown.

“Nothing,” said Bart, with a grin.

“Where do you come from?”

“Me—­nowhere!” chuckled Bart, winking deliberately and then, walking over to the horse, he fondled his long ears, with the remark:  “If I had a dandy rig like you’ve got here, I bet I’d go somewheres, though!”

“Where would you go?” inquired Buck Tolliver curiously.

“I’d go to California—­that’s the place to do something, and make a name, and amount to something.”

Bart’s off-handed ingenuousness had completely disarmed the men.  He pretended to be busy petting the horse, but saw Buck Tolliver slip back to his brother, and a few quick questions and answers passed between them.  Then Buck came up to him again.

“See here, kid, are you acquainted around here at all?”

“Did you ever see me around here before?” chaffed Bart audaciously.

“Don’t get fresh!  This is business.”

“Why, yes—­I reckon I could find my way from Springfield to Bascober.”

Bart had mentioned two points miles remote from the Millville district.

“He’ll do,” spoke Hank Tolliver for the first time.  “Ask him, Buck.”

“Do you want to drive that rig a few miles for us for a dollar?” asked Buck Tolliver.

“Me?” cried Bart.  “I guess so!”

“Can you obey orders?”

“Try me, boss.”

“He’ll do, I tell you.  What do you want to waste time this way for!” snapped Hank Tolliver irritably.

“Hitch him up,” ordered Buck to Bart.  “Come on, Hank.”

Bart chuckled to himself.  He did not know what all this might lead to, but it was a famous start.

While he was putting on the horse’s harness and hitching him up, the brothers spread a piece of canvas over the wagon box.  This they tucked in, and completely covered trunk and canvas with long grass pulled from the edge of a water pit near by.

Bart had the rig in full starting shape by the time they had concluded their labors.

“What’s the ticket, Captain?” he inquired of Buck, looking him squarely in the face.