Of the very many aspirants all found plausible excuses except the two Richardsons and their wives, Eugene Buhler, and Paul Highland and their wives, Albert Hauter, Edd Hauter and Bruce Tate. [Illustration: FANNIE PETERSON.] Accordingly, as the autumn sun was casting its last gleam through the old oaks we seven men grouped for a picture, by a neighbor lady, who declared it would be nice for the survivors, if any, to look at after they had become weaker and wiser. After kissing all the kissable ladies and promising to take it easy, we, in spite of ourselves, lit out at a pace that would have done justice to trained pedestrians. In River Forest we turned north on Keystone avenue and then on to the country road, when we broke step and strung out, each man attending to his own feet. It was understood that we stop for supper at Desplaines, but when we arrived at Kolze, seven miles out, the two Hauters, Highland and Tate ordered ham and eggs, while Buhler, Arthur and myself pegged on fast, because the others had declared they would catch us before we reached Desplaines, but they did not. At Desplaines, thirteen miles out, we found the summer restaurant closed, but in a sort of hotel annex we found a damsel of about 12 years ready to prepare for us ham, eggs and coffee. She did step around like a regular woman, for which we recompensed her liberally, for she was exceptionally quaint and interesting for a child. While we were eating, the rear guard arrived, when Albert and Paul came in, saying Bruce and Edd were waiting outside. When we were ready to start Edd and Bruce were nowhere to be found. We inquired, called and whistled, but no response, so concluded they had either become discouraged and taken the train for Chicago or gone on ahead to fool us, so we five struck out for Wheeling. At every house the dogs came out barking, which set the dogs at the next house agoing, who, together with the dogs at the last house, which had not yet stopped barking, gave us real dog encouragement. To keep up our spirits we accompanied the dogs by striking up "Old Black Joe." Really we lacked only a bagpipe to have made the farmers think Gabriel was at hand calling the elect from their graves. At every bend in the old Desplaines River the water babbled loudly, seeming to join in our merriment, as we jested, told stories and laughed through the joyous hours of our moonlight escapade along the winding stream. At Wheeling, twenty-two miles out, Buhler began to realize he ought not to have attempted so strenuous an effort, but said he would stick it out forty miles, to Gray's Lake, after which we could continue our foolishness if we did not know enough to get in and ride. Tate and Ed Hauter put in their appearance at Libertyville, just before the ladies arrived, and to prove they had actually walked all the way, exhibited blisters on their heels.