ce. If
they were ever to arrive at the Forks, they were likely to do it much
sooner by walking than running. Willy did not understand this. Being as
lithe as a young deer, he preferred "bounding over the plains" to
lagging along with such a slow walker as Fred.

The town of Harlow was twelve miles away, and it was Fred's opinion that
they should reach it in season for an early breakfast.

"I've got two dollars in my pocket," said he, "and I guess we shan't
starve _this_ fall."

Willy thought of the eighteen cents he had been six weeks in saving, but
was ashamed to speak of such a small sum.

"Well, we shan't get to Harlow, or any where else, till day after
to-morrow afternoon, if you don't hurry up," said he, impatiently. "You
say you can't run, but I should think you might do as much as to march.
Now, come,--left, foot out,--while I whistle."

Fred tried his best, but he was one of the few boys born with "no music
in his soul," and he could not keep step.

"What's the matter with you, Fred Chase?"

"Don't know. Guess you haven't got the right tune."

Willy stopped short in "Come, Philander," and turned it into "Hail,
Columbia;" but it made no difference. "Roy's Wife," or "Fy! let us a' to
the wedding," was as good as anything else. Fred took long steps or
short steps, just as it happened, and Willy never had understood, and
could not understand now, what did ail Fred's feet; it was very
tiresome, indeed.

"Look here: what tune have I been whistling now? See if you know?"

"Why, that's--that's--some kind of a dancing tune. Can't think. O, yes;
'Old Hundred.'"

"Fred Chase!" thundered Willy; "that's _'Yankee Doodle_!' Anybody that
don't know Yankee Doodle _must_ be a fool!"

"Why, look here now: I know Yankee Doodle as well as you do, Will
Parlin, only you didn't whistle it right!"

At another time Willy would have been quick to laugh at such an absurd
remark; but now, tired as he was, it made him downright angry. He
stopped whistling, and did not speak again for five minutes. Meanwhile
he began to grow very sleepy.

"Wish we were going to battle," said Fred at last, for the sake of
breaking the silence. "I'd like to be in a good fight; that is, if they
had decent music. I could march to a fife and drum first rate."

"Could, hey! Then why didn't you ever do it?"

"Do you mean to say I don' know how to march? Know how as well as you
do."

"Think's likely," snarled Willy, "for _I_ can't march if I hav