“Well, here we are,” he said. “Where?” scoffed Evan. “Why, on the road.” “What road?” “Oh, don’t be so inquisitive. It’s a road and that’s enough. It must lead somewhere. I’ll vow, though, that I never saw it before. Did you, Mal?” “I think it’s the Hillsgrove road,” answered Malcolm doubtfully. “If it is we want to go to the right here. That’ll take us to Riverport.” “And if it isn’t the Hillsgrove road,” asked Evan pessimistically, “where will it take us to?” Malcolm couldn’t answer that. “I don’t believe it’s the Hillsgrove road at all,” said Jelly. “I don’t remember any row of trees like this on it.” “I don’t seem to remember a row of trees like this on any road,” said Rob. “But we might as well go one way as another, fellows. And perhaps we will meet someone. Gee, but I’m getting hungry!” “So am I,” muttered Evan dejectedly. “I wonder if we’ll get to school in time for supper.” “We won’t if we stay here,” said Jelly. “I’m going on.” So they took the road and followed it as it curved through the darkening fog to the right. After awhile their ears were gladdened with the sound of a creaking wagon and a moment later it took shape before them. There was a dejected-looking horse and an equally dejected-looking driver on the seat of an ancient farm wagon. “Hello,” greeted Rob. “Which way is Riverport School, sir?” The man pulled his horse in and leisurely examined the boys before he answered. “You belong there?” he asked in a suspicious way. “Yes, but we’ve sort of lost our bearings in this fog.” The man chuckled. “Well, you’re coming away from it as fast as you can,” he said. “Get ap.” “_What!_” they exclaimed in chorus. “Isn’t this the Hillsgrove road?” “No,” replied the man over his shoulder as the horse broke into a slow jog, “it’s the Lebanon Springs road, o’ course. Guess you boys don’t study geography much.” And he chuckled some more. “Well, what do you think of that?” marveled Malcolm. “Say, can we have a ride?” called Rob. “No, you can’t; my horse is tired,” was the ungracious response. “How far is it to school?” shouted Malcolm. “’Bout two miles or two miles an’ a half, I guess.” “We’ll pay you for a lift,” Rob bawled after the vanishing driver. But there was no reply and the fog swallowed man and horse and vehicle. “Brute!” muttered Evan. “Hope he breaks down,” said Jelly. “Hope his horse has blind staggers. Hope――” “That’ll do, Jelly; you’ve hoped enough. Hope for something worth while, like a trolley-car or an automobile or a flying-machine. Gee, fellows; two miles and a half he said!” And Rob shook his head and looked dismally into the fog. “I’d like to know how we ever got on the Lebanon Springs road,” pondered Malcolm as they began to retrace their steps. “I may be mistaken,” replied Rob, “but I _think_ we walked. Anyhow, my legs feel that way.”