alloped off at a high rate of speed.

"He is certainly an odd sort," mused Baxter. "But I guess he means
to do right by me, or he wouldn't lend me a twenty so readily. He
must be used to handling big money, by the roll of bills he carried.
I wish I possessed such a roll. There must have been several hundred
dollars in it, at least."

He felt to make sure that the bill was safe in his pocket, and then
continued on his journey. Several times he looked back, but he could
see nothing of the Rover boys or their friends.

Dan Baxter felt particularly downcast and desperate. Since the capture
of Lew Flapp, he had been without a companion in whom to confide,
and the peculiar loneliness among utter strangers was beginning to
tell on him. This was one reason why he had told Sack Todd so much
of his story.

Coming to the end of the timber and brush-wood, he saw, lying before
him in something of a valley, the town of Cottonton, consisting of
several well laid out streets and an outlying district of pretty
homes. At a distance was the regular road, but so far his enemies
were not in sight.

The ride had made Baxter hungry and, reaching the town, he lost no
time in hunting up a modest restaurant on a side street, where, he
hoped, the Rovers would not find him.

"What can you give me for dinner?" he asked. "I want something good."

A number of dishes were named over, and he selected roast beef,
potatoes, beans, coffee and pie. He was quickly served, and pitched
in with a will.

"Riding makes a fellow feel hungry," he explained to the proprietor
of the eating house, who hovered near.

"Yes, sah, so it does. Going to stay in town, sah?"

"I don't know yet. I'm just looking around."

"Yes, sah, certainly. If you stay, I'll be pleased to furnish meals
regularly, sah."

"I'll remember that."

Having disposed of the meal and also an extra cup of coffee, Dan
Baxter called for a cigar and lit it. Then he hauled out the
twenty-dollar bill. As he did so, he gave a slight start. He had
handled a good deal of money in his time, and the bank bill looked
just a bit peculiar to him.

"What if it isn't good?" he asked himself.

"Forty-five cents, please," said the restaurant keeper. His usual
price for such a meal was thirty cents, but he thought Baxter could
stand the raise.

"Sorry I haven't a smaller bill," answered the bully coolly. "I ought
to have asked the bank cashier to give me smaller bills."

"I reckon I can change