"Hold 'im a minute now, until I git the bag," ordered the man in the wagon, and, as the ragged youth did so, the man suddenly threw a big sack over Grit's head. Then, hastily wrapping him up in it and tying several turns of rope about it, the sack and dog were tossed into the wagon.
"Quick's the word!" exclaimed the man, as he and the youth got up on the seat and drove off. "Now to get our share of the reward. I hope that young feller what put up this job knows what he's about."
Poor Grit, whining and growling alternately in the bottom of the wagon, tried to work the suffocating bag off his head, but it was too tightly fastened.
The mail the next day brought Dick a badly-written and worse-spelled missive, in which it was stated that if he wanted Grit returned he could have him by paying two hundred dollars' reward. No names were signed, and the hand-writing was unfamiliar.
"I told you so," said Mr. Hamilton. "But who's got him?"
"The letter doesn't say. I'm to leave two hundred dollars to-night under a flat stone, near the stump just where the county road crosses Butternut Creek. Then, the letter says, the dog will be back at the stables to-morrow morning."
"Well," remarked Mr. Hamilton, "that's a hundred more than you advertised to pay. I
