“Four miles!” ejaculated Sam. “But, man alive, we’ve walked at least six and it was supposed to be only seven when we started.” “Where’d ye come from?” “The Wigwam, a boys’ camp on Indian Lake. It’s about three miles this side of Indian Lake village.” “Well, if ye was goin’ to Miles why didn’t ye cross the lake?” inquired the man contemptuously. “We wanted to walk. Does this road we’re on now go to Miles?” “Uh-huh, mostly. It goes to Tappenville, too, and Lower Millis. If you keep to the right turn about a mile an’ a half beyond here and then take the middle branch a ways beyond that ag’in you’ll likely get to Miles.” “Is there any shorter way?” “Well, there is an’ there ain’t. If you go across that field yonder an’ find Benny James’s place likely he’ll row ye across to t’other side, an’ then----” “But we want to walk,” said Sam impatiently. “Uh-huh; all right. Keep the road then, son.” “And there’s no short cut?” “I don’t know as there be. Still, ye might strike off across the hill when ye reach the first fork. Likely you’d pick up the road ag’in beyond Lower Millis.” “I see.” Sam frowned thoughtfully. Finally, “I guess we’d better stick to the road,” he said. “Uh-huh; I would if I was you, son.” Rather dejectedly then they took up the journey once more. “I don’t believe the old codger knows what he’s talking about,” grumbled Tom Crossbush. “How can it be four miles further when we’ve walked five or six?” “Five or six!” said another of the party. “I’ll bet we’ve walked ten!” A little further on, the rain, which for the past hour had been hardly more than a drizzle, stopped entirely, and off came raincoats. Walking was a bit easier then. The road went up hill and down and turned and twisted crazily. At the first fork a sign-post pointed one way to Tappenville and another to Lower Millis, but said nothing of Miles. But they took the right-hand road, after Sam had pinned a note of direction to Steve on the post, and went doggedly on, resisting the temptation to leave the highway and try the short-cut across country. The road seemed bent on travelling in every direction save that in which they wanted to go. There never was such a stupid, stubborn old road as that! Murmurs of discontent began to be heard. The fellows were thoroughly disappointed, too, because all hope of winning the hike was now idle. It was already after five o’clock and doubtless by this time the “Reds” were comfortably encamped and waiting for supper. The thought of that supper encouraged them to renewed exertions.