ive dollars to accompany him home and remain
overnight at the farmhouse until he had disposed of the money in the way
he intended.

Luke was glad to accept the proposal. It promised variety and possibly
adventure. The farmer climbed into the buggy and the Quaker detective,
following, took a seat by his side.

After they had driven some time they reached a part of the road where for
a clear mile in advance there was not a house or building of any kind to
be seen.

"This is the place I was most afraid of," said the farmer.

"Yes, it seems to be lonely. I wish one of the Fox brothers would happen
along."

"Why?" asked the farmer in a tone of alarm.

"Because I'd like to tackle him."

"Why are you so anxious to tackle him? I cannot understand."

"Then I'll tell you, my honest friend. There is a reward of a thousand
dollars offered for the capture of one of these famous outlaws, dead or
alive."

Ezekiel Mason shrugged his shoulders.

"I'd rather earn the money some other way!" he said.

"You are only a peaceful farmer, while I am a fighting Quaker," responded
Luke.

As he spoke he looked up the road, and his glance fell upon a short,
compactly built man in a gray suit, who was walking toward them. He seemed
a quiet, commonplace person, but there was something about him that
attracted Luke's attention.

"Do you know that man?" he asked abruptly.

"No," answered Mason after a rapid glance.

"Are the Fox brothers tall men?" asked Luke.

"One only."

"The other?"

"Is about the size of the man who is approaching."

Luke did not reply, but examined still more critically the advancing
pedestrian.

"If this should be one of the Foxes----" he began.

"Do you think it is?" asked the farmer in a terrified tone.

"I can't tell. If it proves to be, do exactly as I tell you."

"Yes," replied the farmer, now thoroughly alarmed.

By this time the newcomer was but twenty feet distant. Though his
appearance and dress were commonplace, his eyes, as they could see, were
dark and glittering.

He made a halt.

"Friends," he said, "can you oblige me with the time?"

The farmer was about to produce his big old-fashioned silver watch when
Luke nudged him sharply.

"Leave him to me," he whispered in a tone audible only to the farmer.

"Thee has asked the wrong party," he said. "We don't carry watches."

The pedestrian regarded him with contempt. Whoever he might be he looked
upon a Quaker as a mild, inoffensi