his taking long walks is good for me," said Mott. "It keeps my
muscles in trim and gives me wind."

This, then, was the object which Mott had in view in inviting him to
take the walk, Will hastily concluded. He wanted to find out all he
could learn about his ability as a runner, and in spite of himself Will
was flattered by the evident interest and attention. They were now
within the confines of the village, and excusing himself for a moment
Mott left Will, but when he returned it was evident from the odor about
him that the sophomore had been to some speakeasy. Will had known of
Mott's habits, and the fact that he had left him and gone alone to
secure his drink argued that the fellow was not altogether bad.

There was not a long delay in the village, and the return by a different
road from that by which they had come was suggested by Mott, and Will
had acquiesced. They had not gone far, however, before Mott discovered a
farmer approaching with a team and a heavy but empty farm wagon, and
quickly suggested that they should ride, and as Will at once agreed, his
companion hailed the passing man.

"Hi, grandpa! Will you give us a ride?" he called.

Without a word the farmer, who was an old man, halted his team and
permitted the boys to clamber up into the wagon.

"This is more like it," said Mott, forgetful of the benefits of walking,
as the horses started.

"It's not half bad," replied Will, as he glanced at the old man who was
driving. A straw hat covered his gray head, and his untrimmed gray beard
as well as his somewhat rough clothing could not entirely detract from
the keen twinkle in his eyes.

"I fancy," said Mott, addressing the driver, "that the beauties of this
country have added much to your longevity?"

"My which?" demanded the farmer sharply.

"Your longevity."

"I never had no such complaint's that. I've had the rheumatiz, but
that's all that ever bothered me any."

"You are to be congratulated," murmured Mott.

"Guess that's so. See that buryin' ground over there?" inquired the
driver, pointing as he spoke to a quaint little cemetery by the
roadside.

"Yes," replied Mott. "Probably most of the people died of longevity."

"It don't tell on th' gravestones. Jest got a new gravedigger."

"How's that?"

"Third we've had inside o' a year. Had one fur nigh onto forty year, but
he up an' died."

"Longevity?" gravely inquired Mott.

"Like enough; though some folks thought 'twas softenin' o' th