“I’m glad you think it’s such a good joke,” said Malcolm wearily. “All I know is that when I get home, if I ever do, I’m going to get straight into bed and go to sleep.” “Supper first, for me,” said Evan. “All I want is a drink,” wailed Jelly from his accustomed position in the rear of the party. “The lake isn’t very far over there. I’ve a good mind to look for it. I’m terribly thirsty.” “You’ll stay right on the road,” said Rob curtly. “I don’t propose to spend the rest of the night hunting for you, Jelly. We’ll be home in half an hour, likely, and you can drink all you want to.” “That doesn’t help now, though,” grumbled Jelly. A few minutes later the rural postman clattered up from behind in his buggy and passed them in the direction of Riverport, but not before Rob had hailed him and asked the distance to school. “A little over a mile, I guess,” was the reply. That was encouraging and they pegged along. Then a dark object grew out of the mist ahead, and when they reached it they found that it was the dilapidated wagon and the dejected horse and the ill-natured farmer. He had broken a trace, and as they gathered around he looked up and scowled angrily. “In trouble?” asked Rob sweetly. “Can’t you see I be?” “Well, I _am_ sorry. We’re all sorry, aren’t we, fellows?” “Awfully!” “Huh,” grunted the man. “Yes, because you were so kind and accommodating,” went on Rob genially. “Your pressing invitation to ride with you quite won our hearts. Did it not, fellows?” “It did――_not_,” said Malcolm. “You get out o’ here an’ let me be,” grunted the farmer. “Let you be what?” asked Evan from a safe distance. Jelly sniggered and the farmer bent over his trace muttering savagely. The boys drew away to the side of the road, smiling broadly at each other. “What a beautiful horse,” remarked Jelly. “I’ll bet he’s got a record.” “I’ll bet they both have,” said Malcolm. “Look at his ears,” Evan directed. “Who’s ears?” “Why, the horse’s. Are they not eloquent? See how he carries one forward and the other back. He’s listening for automobiles, I suppose. Don’t tell me that horse hasn’t got sense.” “Sense! I should say he had sense!” said Rob. “Why, that horse has the sense of the whole family!” “Well, he’s old enough to have sense,” remarked Evan. “How old would you say, Malcolm?” “Oh, I wouldn’t call him exactly old. I don’t suppose he’s a day over fifty――or sixty!” “That horse?” said Rob derisively. “Get out! Why, that horse is one of the ancient landmarks of the locality. He was captured wild on the slope of Graytop by the first settler.” “Was he hitched to that wagon when they caught him?” asked Malcolm. “I believe so. Anyway, he wore the same harness.” “They don’t make harness the way they used to,” mourned Evan. “Look at that trace; why, that should have lasted years yet!” “I know; it’s a shame,” said Malcolm. “That’s a perfectly good harness. I saw one just like it once in a museum. Well, accidents will happen!”