"They aren't running away," mused the astonished boy; "for, if they were,
the man wouldn't be trying to make them run faster. It's Mr. MacDowell! I
never saw him drive faster than a walk before; something dreadful must
have happened."
As Mr. MacDowell caught sight of the boy, and came opposite, he shouted
something, and with an expression of terror glanced around and pointed
with his whip behind him. The furious rattle of the wagon prevented Tom's
catching the words, and the terrified farmer did not repeat them, but
lashed his team harder than ever, vanishing in a cloud of dust raised by
his own wheels.
"He must be crazy," said Tom, unable to think of any other explanation of
the old man's frantic behavior.
The lad stood with his head turned toward the cloud of dust, wondering and
speculating over the strange affair, when hurried footsteps caused him to
turn quickly and look again in the direction of the village.
This time it was Jim Travers, who was panting from his running, and whose
face was a picture of consternation, equal to that of Farmer MacDowell.
"What's the matter, Jim?" asked Tom as his schoolmate reached him.
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