The rest had gone inside, but Mr. Baxter still stood there. He seemed to be looking in the direction the fugitive had gone, and Frank, as he joined him, could see signs of new trouble in his eyes. He wondered what it meant.
"I don't think he'll come back again, sir," he remarked, "for we gave him a pretty sound scare."
"It was good of you to make him drop his bundles," remarked the other; "though if he had carried them off I don't imagine it would have mattered much to me. I reckon the poor wretch wanted to pick out some clothes to wear so he could throw away that tell-tale striped suit."
"No doubt of it, sir," replied Frank, readily; "but it was a terrible thing for him to fire the house just to cover up his robbery. Chief Hogg said he was a desperate man, and I'm ready to believe it now."
"What! did you know about him before?" asked the other, uneasily.
"Yes, it happened so. He escaped from Lauderville prison a day or two ago, and the officers are hunting high and low for him," returned Frank.
"Er, what was his name; did you happened to hear it mentioned?" asked the farmer, his voice trembling in spite of his efforts to appear unconcerned.
"Why, yes, it was Brockholt, Bill Brockholt, sir."
