CHAPTER XXIII
SELLING THE FARM
"Don't you think thase sharpers carried off Bob?" urged Betty, bracing herself as the car dipped into a rut and out again.
"Every indication of it," agreed her uncle, swerving sharply to avoid a delivery car.
"But where could they have taken him?" speculated Betty, clinging to the rim of the side door. "How will you know where to look?"
"I think he is right on the farm," answered Mr. Gordon. "In fact, I shall be very much surprised if we have to go off the place to discover him. I'm heading for the farm on that supposition."
"But, Uncle Dick," Betty raised her voice, for the much-abused car could not run silently, "I can't see why they would carry Bob off, anyway. Of course I know they don't like him, and I do believe they recognized him as the boy who sat behind them on the train, though Bob laughs and says he isn't so handsome that people remember his face; but I don't understand what good it would do them to kidnap him. The aunts are too
