disappeared around the corner of the
building. He was gone nearly five minutes. When he returned he was
leading a fine black horse, attached to a light road wagon.

"Brought you Flip, my fast trotter," he explained. "He ought to be
able to overtake any bit of horseflesh in these parts."

"Well, we want a fast horse," replied Matt, as he sprang into the
wagon without delay. He was quickly followed by Andy and the freight
agent, and off they went at a spanking gait down the smooth road.

It was a fine day, cool and clear, and under any other circumstances
both Matt and Andy would have enjoyed the drive. But just now they
were filled with fears. Supposing they were unable to recover their
turn-out and goods what then?

The partners looked at each other, and that look meant but one thing.
They must recover their property. Such a thing as failure was not to
be countenanced.

At length Phillipsburg was left far behind, and they entered a
somewhat hilly farming section. Presently they came to a farmhouse
standing close to the road. There was an old countryman standing by
the gate, smoking a pipe leisurely, and Matt directed the freight
agent to draw rein.

"Good afternoon," said the young auctioneer politely. "I wish to ask
you for a bit of information."

"Well, son, what is it?" returned the old countryman, removing his
pipe from his mouth and gazing at all three curiously.

"Did an auction wagon pass this way a short while ago?"

"An auction wagon?"

"Yes, sir, a covered wagon, with the sign, 'Eureka Auction Co.,'
painted on the sides. It had a single white horse, with brown spots."

The old man's face lit up.

"Oh, yes; I saw that wagon," he replied.

"You did?" cried Andy. "We are very glad to hear it. Which way did it
go?"

"Right up that way," and the countryman waved his hand to the
northwest.

"Along the river still," said the freight agent. "I thought so."

He was about to drive on when Matt stopped him.

"Did you notice who was driving the wagon?" he called back.

"Yes, a tall man kind of shabbily dressed."

"Must be Barberry," muttered the young auctioneer.

"What's the trouble?" questioned the countryman curiously.

"The turn-out has been stolen, that's the trouble," replied the boy,
and off they sped again, leaving the old countryman staring after them
in open-mouthed wonder.

They turned from the main road, which about half a mile back had led
away from the Delaware, and took the side