Ralph seemed so entirely unconcerned that something of his confidence was imparted to Herbert.  Noting the erect mien and fearless glance of his guide, every movement betokening strength, he could not help feeling that Abner Holden would be rash to make such a man his enemy.  He felt safe in his protection, and his apprehensions of capture passed away.  So with lightened heart he walked the five dusty miles to the village of Vernon, accompanied by Ralph.

It was a thrifty village, with neat and tasteful dwellings lining the principal street.  The railroad and manufactories had built it up rapidly and given it an air of prosperity which was pleasant to see.

“We will go at once to the railway station,” said Ralph.  “You may catch the next train, and it will be as well to leave this neighborhood as soon as possible.”

They were fortunate enough to reach the station fifteen minutes before the eastern train departed.

Herbert bought a ticket for Columbus, fifty miles distant, and entered the train.

“Good-by, Herbert,” said Ralph, from the platform.

“Good-by,” said Herbert.  “Thank you for all your kindness to me.  Shall I not see you again?”

“I do not know,” said Ralph, musing.  “I have no wish nor intention of going to New York at present, yet I have a feeling that we shall meet again.”

“I hope it may be so,” said Herbert.  “I shall be glad to see you again.”

While he spoke the shrill sound of the railway whistle was heard, the train started, and Herbert was fairly off on his journey.

Just as he was leaving the depot, a wagon drove hastily up to the station, and Abner Holden jumped out.  Herbert saw him as he looked from the window, and for a moment he was apprehensive, but the train was fairly on the way.

“Stop! stop!” vociferated Abner.  “Stop, I say!” for he had also caught sight of his bound boy on the way to freedom.

“You don’t think they will stop the train for you, you fool!” said a man standing by.  “You ought to have come sooner if you wanted to go by this train.”

“I don’t want to go by it,” said Abner.

“What do you want, then?”

“My boy’s run away, and I have just seen him aboard the train.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?  Your son?”

“No, I hope not.  It’s a young rascal that’s bound to me.”

“If he’s a young rascal, I shouldn’t think you’d want him back.”

Turning away, for he saw that he had failed, his glance rested on Ralph.

Instantly his anger rose.

“It’s your doings,” said he, shaking his fist in impotent wrath at the sturdy hunter, whom he would have attacked had he dared.  “It’s your fault, and you shall pay for it if there’s law in the land.”

“What will the law say to your attempt to shoot the boy?” demanded Ralph, coolly.

Abner turned pale, and realized that his best course was to keep quiet about an affair which might seriously compromise himself.