them able to cook like veteran
woodsmen.

Within two minutes, fat was sputtering in a hot pan, and Dick
was shaking corn meal onto a plate.

"Bring 'em up!" he ordered. "We'll start this thing going."

Twenty minutes later, using two pans, all the bull-heads had been
cooked, and now lay on platters in the oven of the stove.

"Three apiece, and one left over," Greg discovered. "Who gets
the odd one?"

"Shame on you!" muttered Reade. "The horse gets the odd one,
of course."

"A horse won't eat fish," Holmes retorted.

"Didn't you ever see a horse eat fish?" Tom challenged.

"I never did."

"Well, I don't know that I ever did, either," Reade admitted.
"So we'll give the odd one to Danny Grin."

"Maybe we'll be glad to," laughed Dave. "I'm not sure that all
these bull-heads were alive when Dalzell picked them up."

"Huh!" snorted Dan.

Nothing spoiled their appetite for the fish, however, which were
cooked to a turn and of fine flavor. Tom Reade, however, got
the odd fish as being the only one whose appetite was large enough
to permit of the feat of adding it to three other fish.

"And now, what are we going to do?" asked Dave, after the meal
was finished and the dishes had been washed.

"Who has sore feet?" called Dick.

Not one of the six boys would plead guilty to that charge.

"Then we won't have to heat water," Dick announced. "Each fellow
can bathe his feet in cold water before turning in. But, when
one's feet ache, or are blistered, then a wash in piping hot water
is the thing to take out the ache."

By nine o'clock all hands began to feel somewhat drowsy, for the
day had been warm, and, at last, these youngsters were willing
to admit that their road work had been as strenuous as they needed.

"But to-morrow we'll do twenty-five miles," Dave insisted.

"My opinion is that we'll do well if we make twenty miles to-morrow,"
Dick rejoined.

"But what are we going to do now?" yawned Hazy, as they sat about
under the light of two lanterns.

"Go to bed," declared Greg.

"Hooray! That's the ticket that I vote," announced Hazy.

"I was just thinking of that mean lawyer we heard about to-day,"
Reade remarked.

"I was thinking of the same matter, but more about the poor old
peddler," Dick stated. "That poor old fellow! I'll wager he
has had a hard time all through life, and that he's still wondering
why it all had to happen. How old would you say Mr. Hinman is, Tom?"

"He'll never h