CHAPTER II
IN WHICH TOMMY DELAYS PROGRESS AND THEY LOSE THEIR WAY
It was a fresh, cool morning, with a southerly breeze blowing up fromthe ocean and rustling the leaves of the willows and maples along themeadow walls. Big fleecy clouds sailed slowly across a blue Septembersky, hundreds of birds flitted about the way and made the journeymusical, and life was well worth living. Not until they had turned intothe country road, a level, well-kept thoroughfare, did they catch aglimpse of any habitation. Then a comfortable-looking farmhouse withits accompanying barns and stables came into view.
“Let’s go in and get a drink of water,” suggested Tom.
No one else, however, was thirsty, and so Tom passed in through thebig gate alone while the others made themselves comfortable on the topof the wall. Tom was gone a long time, but finally, just when Dan wasstarting off to find him, he came into sight.
“What’s he got?” asked Nelson.
“Looks as though he was eating something,” answered Dan. “By Jupiter,it’s pie!”
“You fellows missed it,” called Tom, smiling broadly. “She gave me apiece of apple pie and it was great.”
“Doesn’t look like apple,” said Bob.
“Oh, this is squash. The first piece was apple,” was the cheerful reply.
“Well, of all pigs!” said Nelson. “How many pieces did you have?”
“Only two,” was the unruffled response. “And a glass of milk.”
Nelson looked his disgust, but Dan, reaching forward, sent thehalf-consumed wedge of pastry into the dust.
“Hope you ch-ch-choke!” said Tommy warmly, viewing his prize ruefully.“It was gu-gu-gu-good pie, too!”
But he got no sympathy from his laughing companions. Bob declared thatit served him jolly well right.
“He’ll wish he hadn’t eaten any before he gets to the end of the day’sjourney,” said Dan. “We’ve got six miles and more to Jericho, and Iguess we’d better be doing ’em.”
So they took up the march again. Everyone was in high feather. Sideexcursions into adjoining fields were made, Dan went a hundred yardsout of his way to shy a stone at a noisy frog, and Nelson climbed acedar tree to its topmost branches merely because Bob hazarded theopinion that cedar trees were hard to shin up. Only Tommy seemed toexperience none of the intoxication of the highway and the morning air.Tommy appeared a bit sluggish, and kept dropping back, necessitatingfrequent halts.
“Look here, Tommy,” said Dan presently, “we’re awfully fond of you, butwe love honor more; also dinner. If you really want to spend the dayaround here studying nature, why just say so; we’ll wait for you atJericho.”
Whereupon Tom gave a grunt and moved faster. But at the end of half anhour the truth was out; Tommy didn’t feel just right.
“Where do you hurt?” asked Bob skeptically.
“I--I have a beast of a pain in my chest,” said Tom, leaning against afence and laying one hand pathetically halfway down the front of hisflannel shirt. The others howled gleefully.
“On his chest!” shrieked Dan.
“Sure it isn’t a headache?” laughed Nelson.
Tom looked aggrieved.
“I gu-gu-gu-guess if you fu-fu-fu-fellows had it you wu-wu-wu-wu-wu----”
“Look here, Tommy,” said Bob, “you haven’t got a pain; you’ve justswallowed an alarm clock!”
“That’s what you get for eating all that pie and making a hog ofyourself,” said Dan sternly.
“It’s Tommy’s tummy,” murmured Nelson.
Whatever it was, it undoubtedly hurt, for Tommy was soon doubled up onthe grass groaning dolefully. The others, exchanging comical glances,made themselves comfortable alongside.
“Got anything in your medicine chest that will help him, Dan?” askedNelson. Dan shook his head. The medicine chest consisted of a two-ouncebottle of camphor liniment and a similar sized flask of witch-hazel.
“How you feeling now, Tommy?” asked Bob gravely.
“Better,” muttered Tom. “I’d ju-ju-ju-just like to know what that womanput in her pu-pu-pu-pie!”
“You don’t suppose it was poison, do you?” asked Dan, with a wink atthe others.
Tom’s head came up like a shot and he stared wildly about him.
“I bu-bu-bu-bet it wa-wa-wa-was!” he shrieked. “It fu-fu-feels like it!A-a-a-a-arsenic!”
“That’s mean, Dan,” said Bob. “He’s only fooling, Tommy. You have justgot a plain, everyday tummyache. Lie still a bit and you’ll be allright.”
Tom looked from one to the other in deep mistrust.
“If I du-du-du-die,” he wailed, “I--I----”
He broke off to groan and wriggle uneasily.
“What, Tommy?” asked Dan with a grin.
“I--I hope you all ch-ch-ch-ch-choke!”
Tom’s pain in his “chest” kept them there the better part of two hours,and it was past eleven when the invalid pronounced himself able tocontinue the journey. There was still some four miles to go in orderto reach Jericho, which hamlet they had settled upon as their dinnerstop, and they struck out briskly.
“What was that chap’s name?” asked Dan. “The one we were to get dinnerfrom.”
“Hooper,” answered Bob, “William Hooper. I wish I was there now. I’m ashungry as a bear.”
There was a groan from Tom.
“That’s all right, Tommy, but we haven’t feasted on nice apple andsquash pie, you see.”
“Shut up!” begged Tom.
“How big’s this Jericho place?” asked Nelson.
Out came Bob’s road map.
“Seems to be about three houses there according to this,” answered Bob.
“Gee! I hope we don’t get by without seeing it,” said Dan. “Do yousuppose there’s a sign on it?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve heard there was a tree opposite it,” Bobreplied gravely. “And there’s something else here too,” he continued,still studying the map. “It’s a long, black thing; looks as though itmight be a skating rink or a ropewalk.”
“Maybe it’s the poorhouse,” suggested Dan, looking over his shoulder.
“Or a hospital for Tommy,” added Nelson.
“Anyhow, I hope there’s something to eat there,” said Bob.
“Me too,” sighed Nelson. “This is the longest old seven miles I eversaw. And it’s after twelve o’clock. Sure we’re on the right road, Bob?”
“Of course. Look at the map.”
“Oh, hang the map! Let’s ask some one.”
“All right. It does seem a good ways. We’ll ask the next person we see.”
But although they had met half a dozen persons up to that time, itseemed now that the district had suddenly become depopulated. Nelsonsaid he guessed they were all at home eating dinner. After another halfhour of steady walking, during which time Tom recovered his spirits,they came into sight of a little village set along the road. There wasone store there and some five or six houses.
“Anyhow,” said Dan hopefully, “we can get some crackers and cheese inthe store.”
But when they had piled through the door they changed their minds.It was a hardware store! A little old man with a bald head andbrass-rimmed spectacles limped down behind the counter to meet them.
“Is this Jericho?” asked Bob.
“Jericho? No, this ain’t Jericho,” was the answer.
“Oh! Er--what is it?”
“Bakerville.”
“Where’s Bakerville?”
“Right here.”
“I know, but--well, where’s Jericho?”
“’Bout eight miles from here.”
Four boys groaned in unison. Bob pulled out his map, in spite of thefact that Dan looked as though he was ready to seize upon and destroyit.
“That’s right,” said Bob sadly. “We got too far north.”
“I should say we did!” snorted Dan. “About eight miles!”
“But I don’t see how we managed to get off the right road,” said Bob.
/> “I do,” answered Nelson. “Don’t you remember when Tom was laid out?There were two roads there just beyond. We must have taken the wrongone.”
“That’s so,” said Tom; “I remember.”
“Lots of good your remembering does now,” grunted Nelson. “If youhadn’t got to fussing with those pies----!”
“Thought you was in Jericho, did yer?” asked the shopkeeper with achuckle. They nodded soberly. “Well, well, that’s a good joke, ain’tit?”
“Swell!” muttered Dan.
Tom grunted something about choking.
“Is there any place here where we can get something to eat?” asked Bob.
“I guess not, but there’s a hotel about a mile along. I guess you canget something there.”
So they prevailed on him to go to the door with them and point out theway.
“It’s on your way to Jericho,” said the storekeeper, pointing out theroad. “You turn down that first road there and then bear to the leftuntil you come to a big white farmhouse. Then you turn to the rightand keep on about half a mile, or maybe a mile, and the Center Houseis just a little beyond. It’s a brown house with lots of windows and abarn.”
“Can’t help finding it,” muttered Dan sarcastically.
They were rather quiet as they passed through the village and took theturn indicated. From one house came an enticing odor of onions, and Danleaned up against a telephone pole and pretended to weep. That mile wasas long as two, but in the end they came into sight of the “brown housewith lots of windows and a barn.” But it didn’t look very hospitable.The windows were closed and shuttered, and the barn appeared to be inthe last stages of decay. With sinking hearts they climbed the stepsand beat a tattoo on the front door. All was silence.
“Empty!” groaned Nelson.
“Nothing doing!” murmured Dan.
“Hit it again,” counseled Tommy.
They all took a hand at beating on that door, but it didn’t do theleast bit of good. The place was empty and closed up. Nelson sat downon the top step and stared sadly across the country road. Tom joinedhim.
“Wish I had some more of that pie,” he muttered.
Bob produced the map, which was already getting frayed at the corners,and opened it out.
“The best thing to do,” he said, “is to keep on till we find afarmhouse or something, and beg some food.”
“I could eat raw dog,” said Dan. “Any houses in sight on that lying mapof yours?”
“Sure.”
“How many miles off?”
“About--er--about two or three, I should say.”
“Can’t be done,” said Dan decidedly. “I couldn’t walk two miles ifthere was a thousand dollars at the end of it.”
“I could do it if there was a ham sandwich at the end of it,” saidNelson.
“Hunger has driven him daffy,” explained Dan sadly.
“Well, there’s no use staying here,” said Bob impatiently.
“Oh, I don’t know. Might as well die here as anywhere,” answered Nelson.
“Wasn’t it your father, Dan, who said the beauty about Long Island wasthat the towns were near together and we could get good accommodationseasily?” asked Tom.
Dan made no answer.
Suddenly a noise startled them. At the end of the porch stood a boyof sixteen in an old blue shirt and faded overalls. He was plainlysurprised to see them, and stood looking at them for several secondsbefore he spoke. Finally,
“Hello!” he said.
“Greetings,” answered Dan. “Will you kindly send the head waiter to us?”
“Huh?” asked the youth.
“Well, never mind then. Just show us to our rooms. We’ll have a lightlunch sent up and keep our appetites for dinner.”
“Is the hotel closed?” interrupted Bob. The youth nodded.
“Yep. They didn’t make no money last summer, so they didn’t open itthis year. Did you knock?”
“Oh, no, we didn’t exactly knock,” answered Dan. “We only kind oftapped weakly.”
“Want anything?”
“Yes, a man at Bakerville said we could get some dinner here. I don’tsuppose we can, though,” added Bob sadly. The other shook his headslowly.
“Guess not,” he said. “There’s a hotel at Minton Hill, though. There’slots of summer folks there.”
“How far’s that?”
“Not more’n six miles.”
The four groaned in unison.
“We haven’t had anything since seven o’clock,” said Nelson.
“You ain’t?” The youth became instantly sympathetic. “Well, ain’t thattoo bad?”
The question scarcely seemed to demand an answer and so received none.The youth in the overalls frowned deeply.
“Well, now, look here,” he said finally. “Me an’ dad lives back here inthe barn and looks after the farm. We ain’t got much, but if some breadand butter and milk will do, why, I guess----”
The four threw themselves upon him as one man.
“Bread!” shouted Dan.
“Butter!” cried Nelson.
“Milk!” gurgled Tommy.
“Lead the way!” said Bob.