trunks were properly loaded on the lumber wagon. Then, slowly, they
started to mount the long hill that began its incline just across
the tracks.

"Sure this is the way?" inquired Uncle John, perched beside the driver.

"I were horned here," answered the man, conclusively.

"That seems to settle it. Pretty big hill, that one ahead of us."

"It's the Little Bill. When we cross it, we're at Millville."

Seven miles of desolate country could not dampen the spirits of the
girls. Secretly each one was confident that Uncle John's unknown farm
would prove to be impossible, and that in a day or so at the latest they
would retrace their steps. But in the meantime the adventure was novel
and interesting, and they were prepared to accept the inevitable with
all graciousness.

When, after the long climb up the hill, they saw the quaint mill and the
town lying just across rushing Little Bill Creek; when from their
elevation they beheld the placid lake half hidden by its stately pines
and gazed up the rugged and picturesque foot-hills to the great
mountains beyond, then indeed they drew in deep breaths and began, as
Patsy exclaimed, to be "glad they came."

"That Millville?" asked Uncle John, eagerly.

"Yes, sir."

"And which of those houses belongs to the Wegg farm?"

"Ye can't see the Wegg house from here; the pines hide it," said the
man, urging his horses into a trot as they approached the bridge.

"Pretty good farm?" inquired Uncle John, hopefully.

"Worst in the county," was the disconcerting reply. "Half rocks an' half
trees. Ol' Cap'n Wegg wasn't no farmer. He were a sea-cap'n; so it's no
wonder he got took in when he bought the place."

Uncle John sighed.

"I've just bought it myself," he observed.

"There's a ol' addige," said the man, grinning, "'bout a fool an' his
money. The house is a hunker; but w'at's the use of a house without
a farm?"

"What is a 'hunker,' please?" inquired Louise, curiously.

The liveryman ventured no reply, perhaps because he was guiding his
horses over the rickety bridge.

"Want to stop at the village?" he asked.

"No; drive on to the farm."

The scene was so rude and at the same time so picturesque that it
impressed them all very agreeably. Perhaps they were the more delighted
because they had expected nothing admirable in this all but forsaken
spot. They did not notice the people who stared after them as they
rattled through the village, or they would have seen Uncle Jo