to look pretty far to find
anybody who can hold out like Fred Fenton."

"Oh! let up on that kind of talk, Bristles; perhaps I might hold up my
end of the log; and again there's a chance they've got a better man up
there. I remember some of their fellows got around the bases like fun;
and could carry the ball across the gridiron once they got hold of it.
You never can tell what the best runner might be up against in a long
race. Look at me to-day, stubbing my toe at the start; if this had been
the big occasion that would have put me out of the procession in a
hurry."

"Let's start on a little sprint again, now that we're getting close to
the cross-road tavern. I can see it yonder through the trees. Old Adam
will think we're handicap runners, catching up on the leaders. Here we
go, Fred!"

Reaching the tavern at the spot where the roads crossed, they halted to
get a cool drink, and ask a few questions. Somehow they saw nothing of
any of the other runners, though the proprietor of the place told them
several had come and gone. They found the names of Colon, Dave Hendricks
and Corney Shays on the official pad that had been left at this
important point, in order that each contestant might place his signature
on it when he arrived, proving that he had fully covered the
requirements of the run.

Once more the two lads started on their way at a good pace, since their
short rest had refreshed them considerably.

"Look at the gray squirrel!" exclaimed Bristles, who was beginning to
get winded after a mile of this jogging work, because he had not yet
learned never to open his mouth while running, if it could be avoided.

"He's laying in his store of shagbark hickories for the winter,"
declared Fred; "and you better believe he picks only the good ones. I
never yet found a bad nut in any store laid away by a squirrel. They
know what's juicy and sweet, all right."

"Hold on!" said Bristles, coming to a stop.

"What's the matter now; hear any more runaways?" asked Fred, laughing;
but at the same time coming to a walk in order to accommodate his
panting chum.

"No, but there's an old farmhouse through the trees there, and I can see
a fine well. Makes me feel dry again just to glimpse it. Come on, let's
have a drink," and Bristles led the way between the trees toward the
lonely looking place.

"A queer spot, Fred," he remarked. "Looks like it's deserted; and yet
there's smoke coming out of the chimney; and I saw a pig run a