"What do you mean?" questioned the senator's son.
"I mean he is going to have me locked up."
"Why?" asked Phil.
"That man in the buggy with him was Mr. Mardell, the police justice."
CHAPTER III
AN INTERVIEW OF INTEREST
"Well, I shouldn't go back home until your father and your uncle
return," said the senator's son. "Then, if you are arrested, they'll
know exactly what to do."
"It's too bad it happened!" murmured Dave. "I wish I had gotten off to
the West without seeing Aaron Poole. But I suppose there is no use in
crying over spilt milk. I'll have to face the music, and take what
comes."
The three lads went on, and presently came in sight of the farm where
Caspar Potts and Dave had once resided. The ground was now being
cultivated by the man who had the next farm, and the house was
tenantless.
"I've got the key of the house," said Dave. "If you'd like to take a
look inside I'll unlock the door. But it's a very poor place--a big
contrast to the Wadsworth residence."
"And so you used to work here, Dave?" said Phil, gazing around at the
fields of corn and wheat.
"Yes, I've plowed and worked these fields more than once, Phil. And in
those days, I didn't know what it was to have a nice suit of clothes and
good food.
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