Willie didn't row back immediately. John Fox was lying in wait on the
other side, and he didn't care to meet him.

Harry pushed on till he reached a highway. He felt in doubt as to
where it might lead him, but followed it at a venture. He wondered
whether John Fox would pursue him, and from time to time looked back
to make sure that his guardian was not on his trail. In about three
hours he found himself eight miles away. Then, for the first time, he
felt that it might be safe to stop and rest. In a village a little way
back he had entered a bakeshop and purchased some rolls and a glass of
milk, which he ate with a good relish.

He resumed his walk, but had not gone a quarter of a mile when he
heard the noise of wheels, which on coming up with him, came to a
halt.

"Shall I give you a lift?" said the driver of the team.

Looking up, he saw that it was a covered wagon with four wheels, such
as is often to be met in New England towns. The man who held the reins
was of large frame and portly, with dark hair and whiskers. He might
be about forty-five years of age.

"Thank you, sir, said Harry.

"Where are you bound, if you don't mind my being inquisitive?"

"I don't know," answered Harry, doubtfully. "I'm seeking my fortune,
as they say."