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he had disposed of the money the way he intended.

      Luke was glad to accept the proposal. It promised variety, and possibly adventure. The farmer climbed into the buggy, and the Quaker detective, following, took a seat by his side.

      After they had driven some time they reached a part of the road where for a clear mile in advance there was not a house or building of any kind to be seen.

      "This is the place I was most afraid of," said the farmer.

      "Yes, it seems to be lonely. I wish one of the Fox brothers would happen along."

      "Why?" asked the farmer, in a tone of alarm.

      "Because I would like to tackle him."

      "Why are you so anxious to tackle him? I cannot understand."

      "Then I'll tell you, my honest friend. There is a reward of a thousand dollars offered for the capture of one of these famous outlaws, dead or alive."

      Ezekiel Mason shrugged his shoulders.

      "I'd rather earn the money some other way!" he said.

      "You are only a peaceful farmer, while I am a fighting Quaker," responded Luke.

      As he spoke he looked up the road, and his glance fell upon a short, compactly built man, in a gray suit, who was walking towards them. He seemed a quiet, commonplace person, but there was something about him that attracted Luke's attention.

      "Do you know that man?" he asked abruptly.

      "No," answered Mason, after a rapid glance.

      "Are the Fox brothers tall men?" asked Luke.

      "One only."

      "The other?"

      "Is about the size of the man who is approaching."

      Luke did not reply, but examined still more critically the advancing pedestrian.

      "If this should be one of the Foxes," he began.

      "Do you think it is?" asked the farmer in a terrified tone.

      "I can't tell. If it proves to be, do exactly as I tell you."

      "Yes," replied the farmer, now thoroughly alarmed.

      By this time the new-comer was but twenty feet distant. Though his appearance and dress were commonplace, his eyes, as they could see, were dark and glittering.

      He made a halt.

      "Friends," he said, "can you oblige me with the time?"

      The farmer was about to produce his big, old-fashioned, silver watch, when Luke nudged him sharply.

      "Leave him to me," he whispered, in a tone audible only to the farmer.

      "Thee has asked the wrong party," he said aloud. "We don't carry watches."

      The pedestrian regarded him with contempt. Whoever he might be, he looked upon a Quaker as a mild, inoffensive person, hardly deserving the name of man.

      "I didn't speak to you," he said scornfully.

      CHAPTER X.

      THE ASTONISHED OUTLAW

      The pedestrian's next move was a bold one.

      "I am tired," he said. "Give me a ride."

      "Will thee excuse us?" said the Quaker meekly.

      "Oh, shut up!" cried the assumed pedestrian. "Quakers should be seen and not heard."

      Then, to the farmer, "I am tired. Let me into your carriage."

      "There is no room," said the farmer nervously.

      "Then tell the Quaker to get out, and I will take his place."

      Ezekiel Mason was by no means a brave man, and he did not know what to say to this impudent proposal.

      He looked appealingly at Luke.

      "I will accommodate the gentleman," said the latter meekly. With the words he rose from his seat and jumped to the ground.

      "Shall I assist thee?" he asked the stranger in a mild voice.

      "No; I am quite capable of getting into the carriage without help from a meddlesome Quaker."

      "Indeed, thee does me injustice."

      The stranger did not immediately get into the buggy.

      "I don't care to ride, after all," he said coolly. "Just hand me your money, you old clodhopper."

      The worst had come. The new arrival was evidently one of the Fox brothers, after all.

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