“Naw!” snapped the boy, crossly; “just let me be; and as soon as I’ve got this package of clothin’ my maw’s sendin’ to a sick woman, tied up again, I’ll be all right. I’d thank you to keep away. I might ’a’ broke my neck takin’ that header.” He quickly fastened the recovered package to the front of the wheel, and mounting from the rear, was off along the road. Lanky looked queerly at Frank. “That was a silly thing for me to do,” he said. “I ought to be ashamed of myself to bother a smaller fellow. That curiosity is a terrible business, Frank. But looky here, what ails you?” “I was thinking, that’s all, Lanky. An idea seemed to just jump into my mind. You noticed how he didn’t want me to tie up that bundle; didn’t you?” “Why, yes, he was some touchy, that’s a fact,” answered the other, slowly, as if unable to understand what Frank was driving at. “I saw something of what it contained; and Lanky, a sick woman might want the loaf of bread, wedge of cake and the other food; but tell me, what would she care for boy’s trousers made of corduroy, like the pair I’ve seen Watkins Kline wear on Saturdays, when he was off playing?” Lanky stared all the harder, but the truth began to seep into his brain. “Tell me about that!” he exclaimed. “I see what you mean now, Frank; Rufus is taking supplies to his brother, who is hiding somewhere in the woods with Bill Klemm and Asa Barnes! And he didn’t want us to know it.” CHAPTER XVI LANKY BECOMES A “BARKER” “That’s what I was thinking, Lanky,” Frank remarked, smiling at the excited appearance of his lengthy chum, who had never fully mastered the secret of controlling his emotions. “Well, now, if that don’t just beat the Dutch!” exclaimed the other, as if almost too amazed to express himself properly. “And Frank, I don’t believe either of us would ’a’ got on to the curves of Rufus, if it hadn’t been for the accident he met with, that broke open his bundle.” “You’re right there, Lanky,” answered Frank, nodding his head in the affirmative. “The boys are hiding out somewhere in the woods, afraid to come home,” went on the tall boy, with a wide grin; “here days have passed, and yet they haven’t showed up. Most people are shakin’ hands with themselves, and sayin’ it’s a good riddance of bad rubbish; but their folks are worryin’ some, Frank. It’s low-down mean of Watkins Kline to scare his mother so bad. She never would believe he was bad, you know.” “I wonder what’s up, and why they hang out there all this while?” Frank mused. “Tell you what I think,” remarked his companion, with a wise look; “I reckon it’s all Bill Klemm’s doings.” “What makes you say that, Lanky?”