“Stick to ’em, Jerry!” cried one, “too much oats makes them animals frisky,” while another hastened to pick up the several articles and restore them to their owner.

Jerry wiped the great drops of perspiration from his bald, shining pate, as he replied: 

“Them hosses are a leetle too high fed, I’ll admit, but I’ll take some of the vinegar out of ’em afore night, or my name ain’t Jerry Hobson.”

Everything being now in readiness, he again spoke to his steeds, and this time without mishap, the lumbering old vehicle rattled away on its journey.  The little crowd gradually dispersed and soon left Robert and the constable alone with the store-keeper.

“I didn’t see old Ben Ratcliffe around this morning,” said Mr. Bascom to John Todd, the store-keeper.

“No,” answered that individual; “he was here last evening, and said if the weather was fine he was going with his nephew over to the lake, fishing.”

“That accounts for it, then,” said the constable; “I don’t think he has ever missed a day for ten years before.”

“No, I don’t think he has; but that young Mr. Amos, who is stopping here with him, is very fond of fishing, and the old man promised to take him over to Pine Lake this morning, so ‘Uncle Ben’ missed the mail for once.”

After a short conversation with the store-keeper upon general matters, the two men took their leave.  It seemed very evident that as yet there was no suspicion on the part of Edwards, as to the discovery of his hiding-place, and here in fancied safety, surrounded by nature in all its beauty, with affectionate relatives, the young burglar was enjoying himself as heartily as though no cares were oppressing him, and no thought of detection ever troubled his mind.

The uncle of young Edwards, it was learned, was a general favorite about the country.  A good-natured, honest old farmer, who had lived there from boyhood, and was known to all the farmers and their families for miles around.  Even in his old age, for he was long past sixty now, he cherished his old love for gunning and fishing, and held his own right manfully among those who were many years his junior.

It was decided, as a matter of precaution, that they should call at the house of Uncle Ben, in order to ascertain whether he and his nephew had really gone fishing, and to that end the constable harnessed up his horses, and in a few minutes they were on their way to the old farm-house, which stood at the end of a long shady lane leading off from the main road.

[Illustration:  The Robbery of the Geneva Bank.]

Driving up to the gate, the constable alighted and approached the house, while Robert remained seated in the buggy.  In a few moments he returned, and stated that Mrs. Ratcliffe, the good farmer’s wife, had informed him that her husband and nephew had gone off before daylight to a lake about five miles distant, and they would not return until late in the evening.