“What of it?” returned his younger brother.  “The girls are not here yet—­won’t be for two weeks.”

“Oh, we might get a view of the place anyway, Sam.”

“I want to see Brill first,” came from Dick.  “If that doesn’t suit us—­” He ended with a sigh.

“Oh, it will suit, you can bet on it!” cried Sam.  “Father wouldn’t send us there if he wasn’t sure it would be O.K.  He’s as much interested as we are.”

Walking along the highway, which ran down to a little milk station on the railroad, the three boys soon discovered a farmhouse nestling between some trees and bushes.  They threw their baggage on the grass and walked up to the front door.

They had to knock several times before their summons was answered.  Then an old lady opened the door several inches and peeped out.

“What do you want?” she demanded in a cracked voice.

“Good afternoon,” said Dick politely.  “Can we hire somebody to drive us to Ashton?  We were on the train, but there has been a smash-up, and we—­”

“Land sakes alive!  A smash-up, did you say?” cried the old lady.

“Yes, madam.”

“Was my son Jimmie killed?”

“Nobody was killed or even hurt.”

“Sure of that?  My son Jimmie went to Crawford yesterday an’ was coming back this afternoon.  Sure he wasn’t on that train?”

“If he was he wasn’t hurt,” answered Dick.  “Can we hire a carriage to take us to Ashton?”

“How did it happen—­that accident?”

“The express ran into the end of a freight train.”

“Land sakes alive!  The freight!  Maybe it was the one we sent the cows away on.  Was there any cows killed, do you know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, tell me the particulars, will you?  I don’t go out much an’ so I don’t hear nuthin’.  But an accident!  Ain’t it awful?  But I always said it was risky to ride on the railroad; I told Jimmie so a hundred times.  But he would go to Crawford an’ now maybe he’s a corpse.  You are sure you didn’t see a tall, thin young man, with a wart on his chin, that was cut up?”

“What do you mean, the wart or the young man?” asked Tom, who was bound to have his fun.

“Why, the young man o’ course; although I allow if he was cut up the wart would be, too.  Poor boy!  I warned him a hundred—­”

“Can we hire a carriage here or not?” demanded Dick.  The talk was growing a little tiresome to him.

“No, you can’t!” snapped the old lady.  “We never hire out our carriage.  If we did it would soon go to pieces.”

“Is there anybody who can drive us to Brill College?  We’ll pay for the service, of course.”

“No.  But you might get a carriage over to the Sanderson place.”

“Where is that?” asked Sam.

“Up the road a piece,” and the old lady motioned with her head as she spoke.  “But now, if my son Jimmie was in that accident—­”