"Well, I've been waiting most half an hour--I suppose you know. Began to think you'd sneaked out of it, Bill."

There is an insult in the word 'sneak' that no boy of spirit can bear, and w.i.l.l.y was in no mood to be insulted.

"Fred Chase," said he, bristling, "I'll give you one minute to take that back."

"O, I didn't mean anything, Billy; only you was so awful slow, you know."

"Slow, Fred Chase! You needn't call _me_ slow! Bet you I can turn round three times while you're putting out one foot."

It is plain enough, from the tone of this conversation, that the boys had not started out with that friendly feeling, which two travellers ought to have for each other, who are intending to take a long journey in company. Fred saw it would not do for w.i.l.l.y to be so cross in the very beginning. He had had hard work to get the boy's consent to go, and now, for fear he might turn back, he suddenly became very pleasant.

"Look here, Billy; you can beat me running; I own up to that; but we've got to keep together, you know. Don't you get ahead of me--now will you?"

"I'll try not to," replied w.i.l.l.y, somewhat softened; "but you do get out of breath as easy as a chicken."

"Most time to begin to run?" said Fred, after they had trudged on for some time at a moderate pace.

"No; there's a man coming this way," replied the sharper-eyed w.i.l.l.y.

"O, yes; I see him now. Who suppose it is?"

"Why, Dr. Potter, of course. Don't you know him by his _shappo brar_?"

The _chapeau bras_ was a three-cornered hat, the like of which you and I have never seen, except in very old pictures.

As Dr. Potter met the boys, he shook his ivory-headed cane, and said, playfully, "Good evening, my little men."

"Good evening, sir."

But it was certainly a bad evening inside their hearts, sulky and dark.

"What if Dr. Potter should tell where he met us?" exclaimed Fred. "Lucky 'twasn't Dr. Hilton.--There, he's out of the way; now let's run."

They were on the road to Cross Lots, a town about five miles from Perseverance. They had not as yet marked out their course very clearly, but thought after they should reach Cross Lots it would be time enough to decide what to do next.

They ran with all their might, but did not make the speed they desired, for they jumped behind the fences whenever they heard a wagon coming, and were obliged to stop often, besides, for Freddy to take breath. By the time they reached Cross Lots--a thriving little town with a saw-mill--it was pretty late; and if it had not been for the bright light of the moon and stars, they might have been a little disheartened.

They took a seat on a stump near the saw-mill, and prepared to talk over the situation. A lonesome feeling had suddenly come upon them, which caused them to gaze wistfully upon the "happy autumn fields" and the far-off sky.

"Stars look kind o' shiny--don't they?" said Fred, heaving a sigh.

w.i.l.l.y forced a gay tone.

"What s'pose makes 'em keep up such a winking? Like rows of pins, you know,--gold pins; much as a million of 'em, and somebody sticking 'em into a great blue cushion up there, and keeps a-sticking 'em in, but out they come again."

"I never heard of such a silly idea in my life," sneered Fred.

"Pins!--H'm!"

"Why, can't you tell when a fellow's in fun, Fred Chase? Thought I meant real pins--did you? The stars are worlds, and I guess I know it as well as you do."

"Worlds? A likely story, Bill Parlin! Mother has said so lots of times, but you don't stuff such a story down _my_ throat."

"Don't believe your mother!" exclaimed w.i.l.l.y, astonished. "Why, I always believe my mother. She never made a mistake in her life."

Fred laughed.

"She don't know any more'n anybody else, you ninny! only you think so because she makes such a baby of you."

w.i.l.l.y reddened with sudden shame, but retorted sharply,--

"Stop that! You shan't say a word against my mother."

"But you let me talk about your father, though. What's the difference?"

"Lots. You may talk about father as much as you've a mind to," said w.i.l.l.y, scowling; "for he no business to whip me so. He thinks boys are pretty near fools."

"That's just what my father thinks," returned Fred.

Whereupon the two boys were friends again, having got back to their one point of agreement.

"If I had a boy I wouldn't treat him so,--now I tell you," said w.i.l.l.y, clinching his little fists. "I'd let him have a good time when he's young."

"So'd I!"

"For when he's old he won't want to have a good time."

"That's so."

"And I wouldn't be stingy to him; I'd let him have all the money he could spend."

"So'd I," responded the ungrateful Fred, who had probably had more dollars given him to throw away than any other boy in the county.

"I'd treat a boy real well. I wouldn't make him work as tight as he could put in," pursued w.i.l.l.y, overcome with dreadful recollections.

"Nor I, neither! Guess I wouldn't!"

"Poh! what do you know about it, Fred? Your father's rich, and don't keep a pig!"

"What if he don't? What hurt does a pig do?"

"Why, you have to carry out swill to 'em. Then there's the wood-box, and there's the corn to husk, and the cows to bring up! It makes a fellow ache all over."

"No worse'n errands, Bill! Guess you never came any nearer blistering your feet than I did last summer, time we had so much company. Mother's a case for thinking up errands."

"Well, Fred, we've started to run away."

"Should think it's likely we had."