r in astonishment. In a few words she managed
to outline for him her fears and what had taken place the day before.
Mr. Gordon had made up his mind as she talked.

"We'll leave Clover at the hotel stable. It won't kill her for a few
hours," he observed. "You and I can make better time in the car,
rickety as it is. Hop in, Betty, for we're going to find Bob. Not a
doubt of it. It's all over but the shouting."

CHAPTER XXIII

SELLING THE FARM

"Don't you think those sharpers carried off Bob?" urged Betty,
bracing herself as the car dipped into a rut and out again.

"Every indication of it," agreed her uncle, swerving sharply to avoid
a delivery car.

"But where could they have taken him?" speculated Betty, clinging to
the rim of the side door. "How will you know where to look?"

"I think he is right on the farm," answered Mr. Gordon. "In fact, I
shall be very much surprised if we have to go off the place to
discover him. I'm heading for the farm on that supposition."

"But, Uncle Dick," Betty raised her voice, for the much-abused car
could not run silently, "I can't see why they would carry Bob off,
anyway. Of course I know they don't like him, and I do believe they
recognized him as the boy who sat behind them on the train, though
Bob laughs and says he isn't so handsome that people remember his
face; but I don't understand what good it would do them to kidnap
him. The aunts are too poor to pay any money for him, that's
certain."

"Well, now, Betty, I'm rather surprised at you," Mr. Gordon teased
her. "For a bright girl, you seem to have been slow on this point.
What do these sharpers want of the aunts, anyway?"

"The farm," answered Betty promptly. "They know there is oil there
and they want to buy it for almost nothing and make their fortunes."

"At the expense of two innocent old ladies," added Mr. Gordon.

"But, Uncle Dick, Bob doesn't own the farm. Only his mother's share.
And the aunts would be his guardians, he says, so his consent isn't
necessary for a sale. You see, I do know a lot about business." And
Betty glanced triumphantly at her uncle.

He smiled good-humoredly, and let the car out another notch.

"Has it ever occurred to you, my dear," he said casually, "that, if
Bob were out of the way, the aunts might be persuaded to sell their
farm for an absurdly small sum? A convincing talker might make any
argument seem plausible, and neither Miss Hope nor Miss Charity are
business women.