ld be
likely to befall the rider.

After a full hour and a half of steady going, the three hills
obligingly moved perceptibly nearer. Betty could see the ribbon of
road that lay at their base, and the outline of a rambling farmhouse.

"Grandma Watterby said the hills were right back of the house!"
repeated Betty ecstatically. "Oh, I'm sure this must be the place. If
only Bob had come with me!"

She laughed a little at the notion of such an accommodating runaway,
and then pulled Clover up short as they came to a rickety fence that
apparently marked the boundary line of a field.

"We go straight across this field to the road, I think," said Betty
aloud. "I don't believe there is anything planted. Clover, can you
jump that fence?"

The fence was not very high, and at the word Clover gracefully
cleared it. The field was a tangled mass of corn stubble and weeds,
and a good farmer would have known that it had not been under
cultivation that year. At the further side Betty found a pair of
bars, and, taking these down, found herself in a narrow, deserted
road, facing a lonely farmhouse.

The house was set back several yards from the road and even to the
casual observer presented a melancholy picture. The paint was peeling
from the clapboards, leaders were hanging in rusty shreds, and the
fence post to which Betty tied her horse was rotten and worm-eaten.

"My goodness, I'm afraid the aunts are awfully poor," sighed Betty,
who had cherished a dream that Bob might find his relatives rich and
ready to help him toward the education he so ardently desired. "Even
Bramble Farm didn't look as bad as this."

She went up the weedy path to the house, and then for the first time
noticed that all the shades were drawn and the doors and windows
closed. It was a warm day and there was every reason for having all
the fresh air that could be obtained.

"They must be away from home!" thought Betty. "Or--doesn't anybody
live here?"

A cackle from the hen yard answered her question and put her mind at
ease. Where there were chickens, there would be people as a matter of
course. They might have gone away to spend the day.

"I'll take Clover out to the barn and give her a drink of water,"
decided Betty. "No one would mind that. Grandma Watterby says a
farmer's barn is always open to his neighbor's stock."

So, Clover's bridle over her arm, Betty proceeded out to the
barnyard.

"Why--how funny!" she gasped.

The unearthly stillnes