rd for Rosalie, dead or alive, but he knew all the time
that it would be fruitless. Mark Riley, the bill-poster, stuck up the
glaring reward notices as far away as the telegraph poles in Clay
County. The world was given to understand that $1000 reward would be
paid for Rosalie's return or for information leading to the apprehension
and capture of her abductors.

There was one very mysterious point in connection with the
affair--something so strange that it bordered on the supernatural. No
human being in Bramble County except the two boys had seen the
double-seated sleigh. It had disappeared as if swallowed by the earth
itself.

"Well, it don't do any good to cry over spilt milk," said Anderson
bravely. "She's gone, an' I only hope she ain't bein' mistreated. I
don't see why they should harm her. She's never done nobody a wrong.
Like as not she's been taken to a comfortable place in New York, an'
we'll hear from her as soon as she recovers from the shock. There ain't
no use huntin' fer her, I know, but I jest can't help nosin' around a
little. Mebby I can git some track of her. I'd give all I got in this
world to know that she's safe an' sound, no matter if I never see her
ag'in."

The hungry look in his eyes deepened, and no one bandied jests with him
as was the custom in days gone by.

* * * * *

There were not many tramps practising in that section of the State.
Anderson Crow proudly announced that they gave Tinkletown a wide berth
because of his prowess; but the vagabond gentry took an entirely
different view of the question. They did not infest the upper part of
the State for the simple but eloquent reason that it meant starvation to
them. The farmers compelled the weary wayfarer to work all day like a
borrowed horse for a single meal at the "second table." There was no
such thing as a "hand-out," as it is known in the tramp's vocabulary. It
is not extraordinary, therefore, that tramps found the community so
unattractive that they cheerfully walked miles to avoid it. A
peculiarly well-informed vagrant once characterised the up-state farmer
as being so "close that he never shaved because it was a waste of hair."

It is hardly necessary to state, in view of the attitude of both farmer
and tramp, that the misguided vagrant who wandered that way was the
object of distinct, if not distinguished, curiosity. In the country
roads he was stared at with a malevolence that chilled his appe