“I’ll have to ask ma first,” the boy replied. He went to the house, and the two outside heard a low-toned conversation, and a woman looked out at them from behind some half-closed blinds. Then out came Jimmy with a rush and said he could go. He took pains to get his hoe from the garden, which he cleaned by rubbing off the dirt with his bare foot before hanging it up. “Have ye got much luggage?” he asked. “’Cause if ye have we c’n take the rack wagon. The express wagon’s better, though, if ye haven’t got much. That old rack’s pretty heavy.” The lighter vehicle, which proved to be a small market wagon, was plenty large enough, and into that was hitched the stout farm-horse, and the three boys clambered up to the seat. “Git up!” cried Jimmy, cracking his whip, and away they rattled down to the depot. “Now,” said Jimmy, “they’s two ways of gettin’ where you want to go, and when you get there they’s two places where you can go to. The road over Haley’s Hill is the nearest, but it’s so darn steep I’d about as soon drive up the side of a meeting-house steeple.” “Then you’d rather go the other road, I suppose.” “Well, I do’no’; that’s considerable more roundabout.” “You can do as you please,” said John. “We’ll risk it, if you will.” “I guess I’ll go over Haley’s Hill, then. But I reckon you fellers’ll get shook up some. ’Tain’t much more’n a wood-road, and they’s washouts on the downhill parts and bog-holes where its level that they’ve dumped brush and stuff into. You’ll have to walk up the steep parts. Don’t you want something to eat?” he then asked. “I brought along a pocketful of gingerbread, ’cause I knew I shouldn’t get home till after dark. Here,” and he pulled out a handful of broken fragments, “better have some.” “Thank you,” said John; “but we had a rather late lunch on the cars, and I don’t think we’ll eat again till we get the tent pitched. What was it you said about there being two places up there we could go to?” The boy took a mouthful of gingerbread, and when he got the process of mastication well under way he responded, “Well, there’s Jules’, and there’s Whitcomb’s. Jules’ is on one side of the brook and Whitcomb’s is on the other. Jules is the Frenchman, ye know.” “Which place is best?” [Illustration: OCTOBER] “I do’no’ ’bout that. Whitcomb’s is the nearest.” “We’ll try the nearest place, I think.” “I guess we’d better tumble out now,” said the boy. “We’re gettin’ on to Haley’s Hill, and old Bill’s gettin’ kinder tuckered. Hold on! don’t jump out now. I’ll stop on the next thank-you-marm.” [Illustration: A PASTURE GATE]