The two to give Bob Budd a surprise. They said it would be hard for them to get away, and more than likely they would have to wait several weeks before the matter could be decided. This letter was followed at once by themselves, and they were now within a few miles of Bob’s home without his suspecting anything of the kind.  
Having informed themselves , they rode to a station not far from Piketon, where they got off, leaving their trunks to go to the town, while they spent a half-day in hunting. Their luck was so poor that they gave it up, and were glad to use the stage for the rest of the journey.
 
“What time are you due in Piketon?” asked Jim of the driver.
 
“Half-past eight.”
 
“That’s a good deal after dark.”
 
“So it is, at this time of the year, and it’s going to be dark sooner than usual.”
 
“How’s that?”
 
“Don’t you notice how it has clouded up this afternoon? A big storm is coming and we’re going to catch it afore we strike Piketon.”
 
“Well,” Wagstaff, “that isn’t pleasant; we were fools, Jim, that we didn’t stay in the train; but we can shut ourselves in with the curtains and let the driver run things.”
 
“I reckon I haven’t druv over this road for twenty-five years,” said Lenman, “without striking a storm afore to-night.”
 
“Sartinly, sartinly,” added Ethan Durrell; “life must have its shadows as well as sunshine, though I don’t like to be catched on a lonely road this way. I say, Bill,” he added, in a half-frightened voice, “are you troubled with any such pesky things as highway robbers?”
 
“If you hadn’t asked me that question I wouldn’t have said anything about it; but I’ve been stopped and held up, as they say, just like them chaps out West.”
 
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed the New Englander, while the young men on the back seat became interested.
 
“I didn’t suppose you were ever troubled in this part of the world by such people,” said Wagstaff.
 
“We aint often, but what place can you name where you don’t find bad people?”
 
“How long ago was it you were held up?” asked Ethan.
 
“About six months; fact is, I’ve felt shaky for the last week.”
 
“Why so?” asked Wagstaff.
 
“I’ve seen a suspicious character down in Black Bear Swamp.”
 
“Where’s that?”
 
“It’s a piece of woods we pass through afore we reach Piketon; it jines the woods where you tell me Bob Budd has put up the tent, but it curves round and reaches the hills on t’other side.”
 
The words of the driver deeply interested all three of the passengers. The knowledge that, though in the State of Pennsylvania, and in a section fairly well settled, they were in danger of being “held up” in the most approved style of the wild West was enough to startle any one.
 
“Tell us all about it,” persisted Wagstaff, a new cigarette, and leaning forward to catch the reply.
 
“There isn’t much to tell,” replied the driver; “’cept there’s a holler close to t’other side of Black Bear Swamp, and three times in the past week, when I was passing, I’ve seen a tall, slim man moving around among the trees and watching me, tryin’ at the same time to keep me from seeing him.”
 
“But if he was a robber—”
 
“Who said he was a robber?” demanded Lenman, turning and looking sharply at the young man.
 
“You said he was a suspicious character, and what else could he be?” demanded Wagstaff.
 
“Perhaps a tramp, but I’ll admit I have thought it likely he was a man looking for a chance to rob the stage.” “Why didn’t he do it then?”
 
“It happened that on each of the times I hadn’t a single passenger with me.”
 
“And now you’ve got three,” remarked McGovern. “Well, I hope he will attack us to-night.”
 
“What’ll you do if he does?” asked the New Englander.
 
“Don’t you see we’ve each got a rifle? Beside that, Tom and I carry a Smith & Wesson apiece, and all our weapons are loaded; that fellow won’t have time to call out for us to give up our valuables before he’ll be filled as full of holes as a .”
 
“My gracious! you wouldn’t do that, would you?”
 
“Just............