" said the man, shortly. "I'll see if I can get
her out of the ditch. You wouldn't have gotten me if that man with
the hay had given me my share of the road."

"Maybe not," admitted Sandy, grimly, "but I _have_ got you, jest th'
same. Come on."

Sandy left his horse cropping the grass at the roadside, and got into
the auto with his prisoner. After a few attempts, the machine was
gotten out of the ditch, and the start back was begun. Sandy saw a
farmer whom he knew, and asked him if he would bring the horse back
to Oak Farm.

"And now we'll 'tend to your case," the young farmer remarked to the
man in the auto. "I don't believe you told me what your name was," he
added significantly.

"No, I didn't, and I don't intend to," snapped the stranger. "You can
find out any way you like."

"Oh, we'll find out, all right," Sandy returned. "Drive on."

The man did not speak as he drove the car forward. They reached the
house where the physician had been, and found him waiting; a very
angry medical man indeed.

"So you got him; eh?" he called to Sandy.

"That's what I did. And I'd like to borrow your car to take him to
jail, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind a bit, and I'll go along to lodge a charge against him.
There's a state law against anyone taking another person's automobile
without permission. Who is he, anyhow, Sandy?"

"I don't know, and he won't tell."

The man maintained a sullen silence during the remainder of the trip,
and when the office of Squire Blasdell was reached he was led inside
by Sandy.

"I've got a prisoner here for you, Squire," announced the young
farmer. "I don't know what his name is, and I don't exactly know what
charge we can make against him. But he's been hanging around Oak Farm
for some time, and he runs whenever anyone comes near him, and if
that ain't suspicion I don't know what is."

"You're right there, Sandy," said the squire, who, in spite of the
fact that he was about to foreclose on Oak Farm, was not on bad terms
with the Apgars. The truth of the matter was that the squire only
acted as agent for others whose money he put out on mortgages.
Personally he was sorry for the Apgars.

"Now then, Mister whatever-your-name-is," began the squire, "what
about you?"

"I'll tell you nothing," said the man. "You have no right to hold
me."

"He took my auto," broke in the doctor.

"Then we'll hold him on that charge, and we'll call him John Doe,"
decided the squire. "Maybe he'll