"Stop your row in there!" called out Dan Baxter presently. "If you
don't, I'll give you something you won't want."

"How long are you going to keep me here?"

"If you wait long enough you'll find out," was the unsatisfactory
answer.

"It won't do you any good to keep me a prisoner, Dan."

"Won't it? Perhaps you think I'm going to let you go so that you can
get the officers to arrest my father," sneered the younger Baxter.

"They are bound to get him anyway, sooner or later."

"They'll never get him if they don't catch him this week."

"Why? Is he going to leave the country?"

"That's his business, not yours," said Dan Baxter, and walked away.

"It's too bad he turned up as he did," remarked Arnold Baxter, when he
found himself alone with his son. "I thought I'd be safe here until I
could slip over to Boston."

"When does that steamer sail for Cape Town, Africa, dad?"

"Tuesday or Wednesday of next week."

"Then all we can do is to keep Dick Rover a prisoner until that time."

"We can't do it, Dan. As soon as he is reported missing this whole
vicinity will be searched."

"Do you think they'll find this cottage?"

"Perhaps, although so far I have not been disturbed."

"Tom and Sam Rover came pretty close to locating you, didn't they?"

"They came within half a mile of the spot. But I gave them the slip."

"I wish I could square up with all of the Rovers," went on Dan Baxter
savagely. "They have caused me no end of trouble."

"Better leave them alone, Dan. Every time you try to do something you
get your fingers burnt."

To this the son could not answer, for he knew that his father spoke the
truth.

A long talk followed, and then Dan Baxter left, promising to return
before noon of the next day. He was to proceed to a town about twelve
miles away and there purchase for his father a new suit of clothing and
a preparation for dyeing his hair and beard. With this disguise Arnold
Baxter hoped to get away from the vicinity and reach Boston without
being recognized.

So far the night had been clear, but now a storm was brewing. From a
great distance came a rumble of thunder and occasionally a glimpse of
lightning lit up the landscape.

"You'll have a bad journey of it," said Arnold Baxter to his son as the
latter was leaving.

"Reckon I'll have to make the best of it," answered Dan. "But I've got
used to such things, since I've been knocking around the ocean and
elsewhere."

Left to himself, Arn