dispirited manner.

"The map can't be wrong," said Ned, "the trouble is that we veered a
little too far south in our course. We'll make a nearer cut of it on the
return trip. Walk a little faster, Clay; it will be a tight squeeze to
reach camp by four o'clock."

It wanted a little less than three hours to that time when the boys
reached the little cluster of six houses which comprised West Hill. The
signboard had probably told only half the truth in regard to
distance--as country signboards usually do.

The postoffice was, of course, combined with a produce store. At this
time of day its only occupants were the proprietor and a grizzled old
farmer puffing at a corncob pipe.

The letters were soon mailed, and in response to Ned's inquiry he was
handed a weighty hat box addressed to Randolph Moore, and a batch of
half a dozen letters.

"I'll bet a dollar that's a cake," said Clay. "It will tickle Randy."

"It wouldn't tickle him if he had to carry it about nine miles," replied
Ned ruefully, "and the box says 'handle with care,' too."

However, the cake could not be left behind, and the boys agreed to carry
it by turns.

"How far is Otter Run from here in a straight line?" inquired Ned of the
storekeeper.

"'Bout eleven mile," was the reply. "Ain't that kerect, Bowser?"

"It's mor'n that by road," said the old farmer, taking his pipe from his
lips. "It's a good thirteen mile to Tanner's Dam, an' the run comes in
just below the mill race."

The boys exchanged glances of dismay.

"That map fooled me after all," muttered Ned. "The camp can't be
anywhere near Otter Run."

He then explained the situation to the two men, describing as minutely
as possible the location of the camp. Both wagged their heads dubiously.

"I can't fix it to a sartainty," said the storekeeper.

"Nor kin I," observed Mr. Bowser. "There air heaps of jest sich runs,
an' high hills an' bits of bad water--same as you chaps tell about."

It was evident that no positive information could be obtained, so the
boys said "good day," and left the store.

"Under the circumstances we won't risk making a bee line for camp," said
Ned. "If we had any landmarks to go by it would be different."

"Then must we go back the way we came?" asked Clay.

"Exactly; we have nine weary miles to tramp. I'm sorry, but it can't be
helped. Just think of a good supper and a snug bed, Clay, and you won't
mind the distance so much."

"It's this confounded box tha