They hurried on. The sun sank to its nightly rest amid a bed of golden, green, purple, pink and olive clouds, and there followed a glorious maze of colors that reached high up toward zenith. "Girls, we simply must stop and admire this--if it's only for a minute!" exclaimed Grace. "Isn't that wonderful!" and she pointed a slender hand, beautified by exquisitely kept nails, toward the gorgeous sky picture. "Every minute counts!" remarked practical Betty. Yet she knew better than to worry her friends. The glow faded, and again the girls advanced. From the fields came the lowing of the cows, as they waited impatiently for the bars of the pastures to be let down. A herd of sheep was driven along the road, raising a cloud of dust. From farm houses came the barking of dogs and the not unmusical notes of conch or tin horns, summoning the "men folks" to the evening meal. "Girls, we're never going to make it in time!" exclaimed Grace as the sky darkened. "We must see if we can't stop at one of these houses over night," and she pointed to a little hamlet they were approaching. "Grace!" exclaimed Betty. "Aunt Sallie would be worried to death if we didn't come, after she expected us." "Then we must send her word. I can't go another step." They all paused irresolutely. They were in front of a big white house--a typical country home. Betty glanced toward it. "It's too bad," she said. "I know just how you feel, and yet can we go up to one of these places, perfect strangers, and ask them to keep us over night? It doesn't seem reasonable." "Anything is reasonable when you have to," declared Mollie. "I'll ask," she volunteered, starting toward the house. "The worst they can say is 'no,' and maybe we can hire a team to drive to Rockford, if they can't keep us. I can drive!" "Well, we'll ask, anyhow," agreed Betty, rather hopelessly. She hardly knew what to do next. As they advanced toward the House the savage barking of a dog was heard, and as they reached the front gate the beast came rushing down the walk, while behind him lumbered a farmer, shouting: "Here! Come back! Down, Nero! Don't mind him, ladies!" he added. "He won't hurt you!" But the aspect, and the savage growls and barks, of the creature seemed to indicate differently, and the girls shrank back. Betty, reaching in her bag, drew out the nearly emptied olive bottle for a weapon. "Don't hit him! Don't hit him!" cried the farmer. "That will only make him worse! Come back here, Nero!" "Run, girls! Run!" begged Amy. "He'll tear us to pieces!" and she turned and fled. CHAPTER XII AT AUNT SALLIE'S Probably that was the most unwise course poor Amy could have taken. Dogs, even the most savage, seldom come to a direct attack unless their prospective victim shows fear. Then, like a horse that takes advantage of a timid driver, the creature advances boldly to the attack.