The boy obeyed, and sat on the front seat, between the driver and his abductor.

“I suppose the horse is warranted not to run away?” said Ford, regarding the animal with a smile.

“He ran away with me once,” was the unexpected answer.

“When was that?”

“’Bout fifteen years ago,” replied the driver, with grim humor.  “I reckon he’s steadied down by this time.”

“It looks like it,” said Ford.

“Know Joel Barton?” asked the station master, after a pause.

“I saw him once when I was a boy.”

“Any relation?”

“He married a cousin of my stepmother.  What sort of a man is he?”

“He’s a no-account man—­shif’less, lazy—­drinks.”

“That agrees with what I have heard.  How about his wife?”

“She’s smart enough.  If he was like her they’d live comfortably.  She has a hard time with him and Abner—­Abner’s her son, and just like his father, only doesn’t drink yet.  Like as not he will when he gets older.”

Willis Ford was not the only listener to this colloquy.  Herbert paid attention to every word, and in the poor boy’s mind there was the uncomfortable query, “Why are we going to these people?” He would know soon, probably, but he had a presentiment of trouble.

“Yes,” continued the station master, “Mrs. Barton has a hard row to hoe; but she’s a match for Joel.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She’s got a temper of her own, and she can talk a man deaf, dumb, and blind.  She gives Barton a piece of her mind whenever he comes home full.”

“She ought to have that satisfaction.  From what you tell me, I don’t feel very proud of my unknown relatives.”

“Goin’ to stay there any length of time?”

“I don’t know my own plans yet,” answered Willis Ford, with a glance at the boy.  He foresaw a scene when he announced his purpose to leave Herbert in this unpromising place, but he did not wish to anticipate it.

“I suppose Barton is a farmer?” he suggested.

“He pretends to be, but his farm doesn’t pay much.”

“What supports them?”

“His wife takes in work from the tailors in the the village.  Then they’ve got a cow, and she makes butter.  As for Joel, he brings in precious little money.  He might pick up a few dollars hirin’ out by the day, if he wasn’t so lazy.  I had a job for him myself one day, but he knocked off at noon—­said he was tuckered out, and wanted me to pay him for that half day.  I knew well enough where the money would go, so I told him I wouldn’t pay him unless he worked until sunset.”

“Did he do it?”

“Yes, he did; but he grumbled a good deal.  When he got his pay he went over to Thompson’s saloon, and he didn’t leave it until all the money was spent.  When his wife heard of it she was mad, and I expect she gave Joel a taste of the broom handle.”

“I wouldn’t blame her much.”