" ventured
Bristles.

"Knows the toll-gate keeper right well," explained Colon, "because he's
been coming past here, year in and year out, a long time now. Like as
not he's stepped in to sit and talk, or else sample something wet. But I
hope now, Bristles, you don't mean to start the team off on the run, or
something like that, just to see an old man rush after 'em?"

"What d'ye take me for?" demanded the other, indignantly. "I leave all
such mean tricks to Buck Lemington, Clem Shooks, Ben Cushing and that
crowd. Here's where we might play an innocent little joke on the farmer,
and he'll laugh as hard as we do when he catches on. It's the
dog---let's sneak up back of the wagon, and lift the thing in. Then you
leave the rest to me."

Colon waited to hear what Fred said. He was accustomed to depending to
some extent on the opinion of this chum, to whom the boys usually looked
as their leader.

"I should think that was fair enough, Bristles," Fred quickly announced.
"We're intending to give the farmer a pleasant little surprise party,
that's all. Have it your way, then. Here, let's move around a little,
so they won't sight us from the open door of the toll-gate house."

It was a very simple matter to do this, and presently they had deposited
the already stiffening body of the sheep-destroying dog in the bed of the
wagon, where it certainly presented a very gruesome appearance, with its
four feet sticking up in the air.

This done, the boys walked around, and onto the little porch that was
spread out before the door of the cottage.

Voices reached their ears, and it was evident that their presence had
been discovered, for two men immediately came out. Bristles noticed that
the old farmer was even then brushing the back of his hand across his
lips, thus indicating that he had been sampling a glass of hard cider, a
specialty of the toll-gate keeper.

"Hello! Mr. Jenks!" remarked Bristles, who, it seemed, knew the keeper.
"We're up here to look over the ground for the big Marathon race that's
coming off before long."

The farmer had started toward his team, but hearing this, he stopped to
listen.

"I reckoned as much as soon as I see you boys in your running togs," the
tollgate keeper went on to say, affably enough, "because there was a gent
up here only yesterday that said he represented the committee, and that
they expected to have what they called a registering station here at the
toll-gate, though I