# The Young Auctioneers/Chapter 25

CHAPTER XXV.
A BITTER MISTAKE.
Both Andy and the freight agent saw at once that Matt was right, and the jaw of the driver of the wagon dropped.
"Humph! I was certain he couldn't cross right after such heavy rains," he said moodily.
"But you see he has crossed," went on the young auctioneer. "I will tell you what I'm going to do—wade across and see if I can't strike the tracks on the other side."
"You'll get pretty wet, especially if you slip into a deep hole," returned Andy.
"I'll take off part of my clothing," returned Matt, and he did so without delay.
The water was colder than he had anticipated, and he shivered slightly as he waded in deeper and deeper.
"Can you swim, should you slip?" called out Andy anxiously.
​"Yes, I can swim," returned Matt, "but I hope that won't be necessary!"
Moving along cautiously where the rocks stuck up the highest, the young auctioneer worked his way slowly over to the island he had previously pointed out. It was painful work, for he had taken off his shoes, and now he found the bottom in many places cut his feet. But at last the island was reached, and he walked out upon the dry ground.
It did not take Matt long to discover the wagon tracks for which he was searching. They were close at hand, and led almost in a straight line across the little patch, which was not over two hundred feet in width.
"Here they are!" he shouted back to the others. "He went right across just as I supposed."
"Humph! Now what is to be done?" questioned the agent, with a perplexed look upon his face.
"We must cross and follow him," replied Andy determinedly.
"Do you want me to take the horse and wagon across?"
"Why not? The thief took that heavily loaded wagon over. I guess this light affair will go over all right."
​The agent was doubtful about this, and rubbed his chin reflectively.
"I might drive on till I got to a bridge, or turn back to one," he suggested.
"That would take too long," returned Matt's partner impatiently. "We must 'strike while the iron is hot,' as the saying is."
"Come on!" shouted Matt from the island. "Come straight over and you will be all right."
"Well, we can make the venture, but I am a bit shaky over it," said the freight agent, and with a face full of the concern he felt for his turn-out he headed his trotter toward the water.
At first the horse was inclined to shy to one side. He pranced up and down a bit and dug into the sand and loose stones with his hoofs.
"You can see he don't want to go," said the driver. "I really think we had better find a bridge."
"Oh, nonsense! give me the reins!" returned Andy sharply, seeing that the fellow was altogether too easily frightened. "I will take him over safely."
"Don't be too sure!" cried the agent in alarm. "He will break at the least little thing!"
But Andy would not listen to him further. He ​took the reins, and holding them firmly, tapped the trotter with the whip.
The horse made a rush into the water, and in less than ten seconds the wagon was in up to the axles.
"We will be drowned! We will be drowned!" cried the agent in sudden terror. "I can't swim!"
"We won't be drowned. Just you hold on and keep quiet," returned Andy shortly.
"But—but we are going deeper!"
"Not much deeper. I can still see the bottom."
"Supposing we should slip—or Flip should slip?"
"Or we had an earthquake," added Andy, utterly disgusted with the freight agent's actions. "Don't you want to get back those cases, or do you prefer to pay for them?"
This last remark effectually silenced the man. He clung to the seat looking badly scared, but he offered no more suggestions.
With due caution, but as rapidly as possible, Andy drove the horse over the rocks, carefully avoiding such spots as he thought might be extra deep or slippery. Matt, on the island, shouted several directions to him; and thus the journey was safely accomplished.
"Good so far!" cried the young auctioneer, when the horse was once more on dry ground. "That was easy enough."
​"Easier than I thought it would be!" exclaimed the freight agent, with a deep breath of relief. "I wish we were over all the way!"
"The second trip will be easier than the first was," remarked Andy. "It is much more shallow."
"I will wade ahead and make sure of the way," put in Matt, and without loss of time he started out.
It was not so deep toward the Pennsylvania shore, but the current appeared to run swifter, and the boy had all he could do when up to his thighs to keep his feet. But the horse and wagon came along all right, and inside of ten minutes they were high and dry upon the opposite bank.
Here it did not take long to rediscover the tracks made by the auction turn-out, and as soon as Matt could don what clothing he had taken off, they started to follow it up once more.
"I can't see why he crossed the river in that fashion," grumbled the freight agent, as he tapped his horse with the whip.
"I can," returned Andy. "He did it to throw us off the track. He had no time to get rid of the signs on the wagon, and he knew we would learn, sooner or later, in what direction he had gone. But he thought we would not find out how he had ​crossed and would think that he had kept along on the eastern bank."
On and on they went, over the rocky roads, now through a sharp cut between the mountains, and then again around a curve overlooking some tiny stream far below.
"A beautiful place," said Matt, as his eyes rested on a particularly beautiful bit of picturesque scenery. "How can people stick in the stuffy city when there is so much like this going to waste, so to speak?"
"That's a conundrum," returned Andy. "But I have heard it said that many city-born folks would rather die between brick walls than live amid green fields."
"Just look at those rocks and trees, and listen to those birds sing!"
"It is truly grand, that's a fact," returned Andy. "Do you know, if I was wealthy, I believe I would like nothing better than to spend all of my summer in among the mountains."
"And that would just suit me," returned Matt enthusiastically, and then he suddenly sobered down. "But we are not rich, Andy, and unless we get back our turn-out we'll be as poor as ever."
"Oh, we'll have to catch that thief," put in the freight agent. "He can't be many miles ahead."
"The trouble is it's growing dark, and we can ​hardly see the wagon tracks any more," said the young auctioneer.
"It grows dark early in among the mountains," remarked Andy. "If the land was level, it would be light enough."
On they went, passing through several little hamlets. At each of these places they inquired about the auction wagon, and were told that it had passed through, the man driving at almost top speed.
"He is going to get away as far as he can before he puts up for the night," said Andy. "I do not believe we will catch him until we reach the place at which he is stopping."
"My trotter is not used to this sort of thing," said the freight agent. "He is beginning to play out."
"At the next town we reach we can hire a horse," said Matt. "And you can go back if you wish. There is no telling how long this chase may last."
"I ought to be back attending to business," was the agent's reply. "My clerk can hardly take my place. Would you two be willing to go on alone?"
"Certainly," returned Andy.
The next place, a village of perhaps twenty or thirty houses and half a dozen stores, was soon reached. There was a small tavern, and they drove up to this. Alighting, Matt ran inside and ​questioned the half a score of loungers concerning the auction wagon.
Every man in the place shook his head. The wagon had not been seen in the village. Nearly all of the men had just come in from work, and every one said that had the wagon been on the main road at all he would have seen it.
Matt listened with a sinking heart, and as Andy came in he grasped his parter by the shoulder.
"We have made a mistake," he said faintly.
"A mistake, Matt?"
"Yes. The wagon did not come here at all. We are on the wrong track!"