In the privacy of their rooms the four lads concluded that they would say nothing directly referring to the railroad robbery or the hiding of supposed treasure. They were so near the scene that any revival of that now old-time tragedy might cause annoying inquisitiveness even if nothing more resulted. After breakfast, while the boys were making a few purchases and taking on a generous supply of gasoline, they learned from Mrs. Ewing that "Dan and Nan, with their Daddy, old Pat Feeney," had just gone by. "And who are they?" queried Phil carelessly, though with a shrewd suspicion in his mind at the time. "Oh, he's an Irishman and lives three or four miles from here on the edge of some marshland where he pretends to farm. But I guess the most of his farming consists in cutting the marsh-grass during the summer and selling it for hay to those who don't know what good hay really is." "I guess we must have met him some ten or twelve miles back. We had quite a time passing him, for it was where the road runs along a side hill, with the bluff on one side and a steep embankment on the other. We stopped our car for his team was scared and after some delay they passed. They seemed to appreciate what we did, instead of rushing by and probably scaring the whole outfit into the ditch. The girl was rather pretty." "Ah, you boys!" The widow smiled shrewdly. "Always an eye out for the girls! But don't you allow yourselves to think that what a girl looks, so she always is underneath the surface." "Are you coming back this way?" the widow finally asked, as the car was about to start. "If you don't stop, I--I will feel hurt. I'm homesick at times for the town where I was raised." "Tell you what," said Billy after the car had left the small but busy town a mile or two in their rear, "Mrs. Ewing treated us bang up, but she's a keen one, after all. I'm glad we saw her. It will be something to tell McKnight when we get home. Do you reckon those Feeneys are the ones we passed?" "What if they are or if they ain't?" demanded Paul. "We won't be likely to meet 'em again, will we?" "Oh, you shut up, Jonesy. There's no one interested in 'em but Phil, and the best way to define that is by a lesson in spelling." Here Billy made a comical face as he began: "N-a-n, Nan. That, translated into plain lingo, means pretty girl--ouch! Quit, Phil!" For Phil, seated in the tonneau with Worth, had administered a decided pinch.