not help from turning a few times to ascertain whether the tramp was still in sight.
"He's gone, all right, and I reckon cut a bee line for the nearest saloon. And yet, come to think of it, he didn't exactly look like a drinker. There was something queer about that fellow, something a little mournful, too. Frank noticed it, though he didn't remember ever seeing him before. Wish I hadn't, for it bothers me like the mischief. Bill is going to haunt me until I know the rest."
Lanky walked on. After a short time he drew near the home of Lef Seller. It was a fine place, with a fence all the way around; for Mr. Seller owned the trolley line that led to Bellport, also the electric light plant, and several more things connected with the prosperity of Columbia.
"H'm! wonder if that old Brutus is tied up?" mused Lanky, as he reached the gate, and looked in! "he's almost toothless, but just as savage as ever. And I never fancied the rascal years back. Guess I'll take a peep and make sure."
Accordingly he walked on for a dozen yards, to ^where he could look back into the grounds of the Seller place.
"There's his little old dog-house under that evergreen tree. I can just see it in the moonlight, and beyond the patch of snow. What's that moving? Must be Brutus, all right, and he's chained up.
