monotony of a long train trip, and the track resembled the main street of Pineville on a holiday. Every one walked on the track occupied by the stalled train, and so felt secure.
"Bob," whispered Betty presently, "look. Aren't those the two men you followed this morning? Just ahead of us—see the gray suits? And did you hear anything to report?"
"Why, I haven't told you, have I?" said Bob contritely. "The train stopping put it out of my mind. What do you think, Betty, they were talking about the Saunders place! Can you imagine that?"
"The Saunders place?" echoed Betty, stopping short. "Why, Bob, do you suppose—do you think—"
"Sure! It must be the farm my aunts live on," nodded Bob. "Saunders isn't such a common name, you know. Besides, the one they call Dan Carson—he isn't with them, guess he is too fat to enjoy walking—said it was owned by a couple of old maids. Oh, it is the right place, I'm sure of it. And I count on your Uncle Dick's knowing where it is, since they spoke of the farm being in the heart of the oil section."
"Where do you suppose they're going now?" speculated Betty.
"Oh, I judge they want to see the sights, same as we do," replied Bob carelessly. "Perhaps
