“Second the motion!” cried Tom.  “The post-office it is, if we can get through.”

“Can’t no hoss git through these drifts,” came from Jack Ness.

“We’ll hitch up our biggest team and take our time,” said Dick.  “We have got to get down to the post-office somehow.”  He was hoping desperately that he would find a letter from Dora there.

When the old folks heard of it they shook their heads doubtfully.  But the boys pleaded so strongly that at last they were allowed to go.  They got out a strong cutter and the best pair of horses on the farm, and bundled up well.

“If you can’t make it, drive in at one of the neighbors,” said Mr. Rover on parting.

“We will,” answered Dick.

CHAPTER XXII

WORD AT LAST

It was a long, hard drive to Dexter’s Corners, and by the time the boys arrived there they were chilled through and through and the team was pretty well winded.  They went directly to the postmaster’s house, for the office was in a room of the building.

“I’ll see if there are any letters,” said the postmaster, and went off.  He returned with a picture postal for Mrs. Randolph Rover and two advertising circulars for her husband.  There were also a newspaper and a magazine for the boys’ father.

“And is that all?” asked Dick, his heart sinking.

“That’s all.”

“Not worth coming for,” muttered Tom as they turned away.

“The mail didn’t come in this morning,” shouted the postmaster after them.  “You’ll have to wait for more stuff until the train arrives at Oak Run.”

“Let us go over to the Run and see if we can learn anything about the trains,” said Sam, a spark of hope springing up in his breast.

They drove over the river, and as they did so they heard the whistle of a locomotive.

“Something is coming,” cried Dick.

“Perhaps it’s only the night freight,” returned Tom.

When they reached the depot the train was standing there.  It was the morning accommodation, nine hours late.  They saw some mail bags thrown off and also several express boxes and packages.

Curiosity prompted Dick to inspect the express goods.  He uttered a cry of joy.

“A box for us!” he exclaimed.  “And from Cedarville!”

“Where?” cried Tom and Sam, and ran forward to look the box over.  It was two feet long and a foot high, and equally deep, and was addressed to R., T. and S. Rover.

“From the girls, I’ll bet a snowball!” cried Tom joyfully.  “Hurry up and sign for it and we’ll see what it contains.”

The agent was at hand, for he was the ticket agent and station master as well, and they soon signed for the box.  Then they took it to a secluded corner of the station, and with a borrowed hammer and chisel pried off the cover.