As they came nearer the constable distinctly recognized the
voice of the old farmer, who was evidently relating some humorous story
to his companion, who was laughing heartily. The merry tones of this
young man's laugh were as clear and ringing as though he had not a care
in the world, and had not committed a crime against the laws of the
state. No one, to have heard that hearty, melodious burst of merriment,
would have supposed for an instant that it came from the lips of a
fugitive from justice.
They were now nearly opposite to the crouching figures by the roadside.
The old farmer had evidently reached the climax of his story, for both
of them broke out again into a fresh burst of violent laughter that
awoke the echoes round about them.
The laugh suddenly died away, the merriment ceased abruptly, as a dark
form emerged from the roadside, and the muzzle of a revolver was placed
close to the cheek of the young man, while Robert called out menacingly:
"Newton Edwards, I want you!"
With an exclamation of pain, the young man dropped his fishing-pole and
the bucket of fish he was carrying, while a chill ran through his frame,
and he shivered like an aspen in the grasp of the determined detective.
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