lay there all day, and nothing disturbed us. Towards
evening a heavy thunderstorm came up, and it rained for two hours. Of
course we were soaked to the skin, and we didn't look forward with much
pleasure to our night's walk. Owing to the storm, darkness came on
earlier than usual, so we got started in good time. We started out
across country, and after travelling for two or three hours we came to
a pasture field. We saw some cows in the distance, and Mac asked me if
I could milk. I said, "It is a long time since I tried, but I would
make a good stab at it for the sake of having a drink right now." Mac
stayed on guard at the fence while I took our potato pail and went over
to make the acquaintance of Bossy. There were three cows in the bunch,
and choosing the one that looked most friendly I went up and introduced
myself. I'm not sure she understood all the nice things I said to her,
but her feminine vanity seemed to be pleased with the patting I gave
her. At last I broached the subject of my visit, and taking "silence
for consent," I took my pail and set to work; but the old lady showed
her disapproval by walking away. Of course I followed, and once more
resorted to flattery. When I thought I had her worked up sufficiently,
I tried again for milk, but with the same result. This was repeated
several times, and at last my patience was exhausted, so I hailed Mac,
and when he came I urged him to continue the petting business while I
tried for milk. He did this, and it worked splendidly; we got
sufficient milk to give us both a good drink. It seemed to put new
life into us. This was our fourth day out, and we were almost
famished. After we finished our drink we thanked our old cow and
started on the march again. This seemed to be our lucky night, for
soon we came across a garden, and we laid in another supply of
potatoes. Continuing on our way, we came to a fine road. It was
bordered on each side by the most beautiful elm trees, and as it was
leading in the right direction we determined to follow it. After
walking about a mile we came to a farmhouse and right beside the road
was a milk-stand. It held three cans of milk, and we couldn't make up
our minds whether the farmer had intended them for the milkman or for
us. We preferred to think the latter, so we proceeded to help
ourselves.

We sat there and drank milk until we felt that we must look like
"observation balloons." Then we filled our potato pai