here were
plenty of mulberries on Dave's father's farm, and the early apples were
getting ripe enough to eat, if you pounded them on a rock; and you could
go in swimming, and everything. Jake said there was the greatest
swimming-hole at Pawpaw Bottom you ever saw, and they had a log in the
water there that you could have lots of fun with. Frank ran into the house
to ask his mother if he might go, and he hardly knew what to do when she
asked him if there was wood enough yet to get dinner and supper. But his
Aunt Manda was spending the summer with his mother, and she said she
reckoned she could pick up chips to do all the cooking they needed, such
a hot day; and Frank ran out to the cow-house, where they kept the pony,
because the Bakers had no stable, and saddled him, and was off with Jake
Milrace in about a minute.

The pony was short and fat and lazy, and he had to be whipped to make him
keep up with Jake's horse. It was not exactly Jake's horse; it was his
sister's husband's horse, and he had let Jake have it because he would not
be using it himself on the Fourth of July. It was tall and lean, and it
held its head so high up that it was no use to pull on the bridle when it
began to jump and turn round and round, which it did every time Frank
whipped his pony to keep even with Jake. It would shy and sidle, and dart
so far ahead that the pony would get discouraged and would lag back, and
have to be whipped up again; and then the whole thing would have to be
gone through with the same as at first. The boys did not have much chance
to talk, but they had a splendid time riding along, and when they came to
a cool, dark place in the woods they pretended there were Indians; and at
the same time they kept a sharp eye out for squirrels. If they had seen
any, and had a gun with them, they could have shot one easily, for
squirrels are not afraid of you when you are on horseback; and, as it was,
Jake Milrace came pretty near killing a quail that they saw in the road by
a wheat-field. He dropped his bridle and took aim with his forefinger, and
pulled back his thumb like a trigger; and if his horse had not jumped, and
his finger had been loaded, he would surely have killed the quail, it was
so close to him. They could hear the bob-whites whistling all through the
stubble and among the shocks of wheat.

Jake did not know just where Dave Black's farm was, but after a while they
came to a blacksmith's shop, and the blacksmith told them