“If you’re ready to start back then, we’ll go.” Diker motioned to the driver, who circled around the Apple Hill Post-Office, and the car started on the return journey.
About two miles out of Apple Hill, Frank slammed on the brakes. A man stood in the center of the road, waving at them. Jerry recognized him as one of the watchers they had spoken to on the journey down; a farmerish-looking man who seemed to be some sort of constable. Without delay, he ran to the side of the car, and hurriedly addressed the prison guard. “Jest got a telephone call from the police-station in Wallistown,” was his message. “They been inquirin’ around like, and found a feller who was workin’ over on the side of the lake where your man was seen to land from a canoe. This feller—road-mender, he is—was workin’ by the side of the highway, and noticed some sort of outlandish automobile stopped there for quite a while. He didn’t see nothin’ of this convict feller, but he says if ye can find this queer auto, the feller drivin’ might know somethin’ to help.”
“What did this car look like?” asked the warden.
“Like nothin’ else in the world, seems like. Said it had a canvas top, like a Conestoga wagon, all fixed up to live in—the driver was a fat little feller that looked like a wop, and he had his missus along. Catch that pair, and mebbe they’ll tell you somethin’ ye ought to know!”
“We passed that outfit up the road—remember?” burst out Diker. “Full speed ahead, Frank! They were fixin’ up a tire when I saw ’em—they can’t be very far from here! And pass me that gun of mine.”
Frank carefully passed Diker’s shotgun over the back of his seat, and the car roared ahead. Jerry peered forward with the rest. He had seen that caravan and its funny little owner. Did he know anything about Jake and Burk? Was it even possible that——
They rounded a sharp bend in the road. “There it is!” whooped Diker. “Draw up beside them, and we’ll see what they know!” Again the driver slammed on the brakes, and the car screamed to a halt a few yards ahead of the oncoming van. Diker jumped out, shotgun in hand, and stood in front of the strange canvas-covered car. “Halt, in the name of the law!”
The caravan shivered to a rattling stop. The dark, fat couple on the seat began jabbering at each other in some outlandish tongue.