“That old chap wasn’t such a fool after all,” said Mott glumly.

“That’s what he wasn’t,” responded Will beginning to laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” demanded Mott sharply.

“At ourselves.”

“I don’t see the joke.”

“Might as well laugh as cry.”

“You’ll sing another song before you’re back in Winthrop to-night.  Ten miles isn’t any laughing matter after we’ve tramped as far as we have to-day.”

“But it’ll help us for our track meet,” suggested Will, laughing again.

“Bother the track meet!”

“It’ll help our longevity then.  I’ve always heard that walking was the best exercise.”

“The old fellow was foxy.  He never said a word but just let us talk on.  I’d give a dollar to hear his account of it when he gets home.”

“Cheap enough.  But say, Mott, have we got to tramp all the way back to Winthrop?”

“Looks that way.”

“Can’t we get a car here somewhere?”

“Hardly.  We might try it at that farmhouse over yonder,” replied Mott pointing toward a low house not far away as he spoke.

“Come ahead!  Let’s try it anyway,” suggested Will eagerly.

The boys at once hastened to the place, and after a brief delay succeeded in summoning the young farmer who lived there.  They made their wishes known, but in response the man said, “Can’t do it anyhow.  My wife’s sick and I’m goin’ for the doctor now.”

“Where is he?” demanded Will eagerly.

“Over at the Junction.”

Will knew where the Junction was, a little hamlet about seven miles from Winthrop.  How far it was distant from the place where he then was, however, he had no idea.  It was easy to ascertain, and in response to his question the farmer explained that it was “about three mile.”

“You might take us there, then,” said Will quickly.  “I don’t know just how the trains run for Winthrop, but it’ll be three miles nearer anyway.”

“Yes, I’ll be glad to take you there.”

“How much are you going to charge us?” demanded Mott who did not plan to be caught again by the “guilelessness” of any of the people of the region.

“Oh, I sha’n’t charge ye anything.  Glad t’ do ye the favor,” responded the farmer heartily.

In a brief time his car was ready, and, acting upon his suggestion, the boys at once took their places on the seat, and the driver soon was briskly speeding down the roadway.

Conversation lagged, for the boys were somewhat wearied by their long tramp and the young farmer was silent, doubtless anxious over the illness in his home.  When a brief time had elapsed he deposited the boys on the platform of the little station at the Junction, and again declining any offer on their part to pay for the service he had rendered them at once departed in his search for the physician.

Approaching the little window in the ticket office Mott inquired, “What’s the next train we can get for Winthrop?”