"It might be as quick to go round," he replied.
"No, sir," said his companion, firmly. "There's a blamed steep bit up the big sandhill."
Suspicion flashed on Grant; the man had led him to believe he was a stranger to the locality, and it was significant that he should insist upon their stopping and harnessing the second team.
"That's so," he returned. "Guess you had better get down and see if it's very soft ahead."
The fellow rose with a promptness which partly disarmed Grant's suspicions, and put his foot on the edge of the vehicle, ready to jump down. Then he turned swiftly and flung himself upon the farmer, crushing his soft felt hat down to his chin. Grant could see nothing, and while he strove to get a grip on his antagonist he was thrown violently backward off the driving seat. The wagon was of the usual high pattern, and he came down on the ground with a crash that nearly knocked him unconscious. Before he got up, he was seized firmly and held with his shoulders pressed against the soil. He struggled, however, until somebody grasped his legs and his arms were drawn forcibly apart. It was impossible to see, because the thick hat was still over his face and somebody held it fast, but he had an idea that three or four men had fallen upon him. They had, no doubt, been hidden among the brush; the affair had been carefully arranged with his treacherous companion.
"Open his jacket; try the inside pocket," cried one; and he felt hands fumbling about him. Then there was a disappointed exclamation. "Check-book; that's no good!"
The farmer made a last determined effort. After having long ruled his household and hired men as a benevolent but decidedly firm-handed autocrat, it was singularly galling to be treated in this unceremonious fashion, and if he could only shake off the hat and get a glimpse of his assailants he would know them again. Moreover, he had brought a roll of bills with him, in case he should make some small purchases. He was, however, held firmly, and the hands he had felt dived into another pocket.
"Got it now!" cried a hoarse voice. "Here's his wallet; seems to have a good wad in it!"
Grant, though he was generally sternly collected, boiled with fury. He felt no fear, but an uncontrollable longing to grapple with the men who had so humiliated him.
"Guess, I'll fix you up!" came an angry voice when Grant managed to fling off one pair of hands.