Reaching the tavern at the spot where the roads crossed, they halted to get a cool drink, and ask a few questions. Somehow they saw nothing of any of the other runners, though the proprietor of the place told them several had come and gone. They found the names of Colon, Dave Hendricks and Corney Shays on the official pad that had been left at this important point, in order that each contestant might place his signature on it when he arrived, proving that he had fully covered the requirements of the run.
Once more the two lads started on their way at a good pace, since their short rest had refreshed them considerably.
"Look at the gray squirrel!" exclaimed Bristles, who was beginning to get winded after a mile of this jogging work, because he had not yet learned never to open his mouth while running, if it could be avoided.
"He's laying in his store of shagbark hickories for the winter," declared Fred; "and you better believe he picks only the good ones. I never yet found a bad nut in any store laid away by a squirrel. They know what's juicy and sweet, all right."
"Hold on!" said Bristles, coming to a stop.
"What's the matter now; hear any more runaways?" asked Fred, laughing; but at the same time coming to a walk in order to accommodate his panting chum.
"No, but there's an old farmhouse through the trees there, and I can see a fine well. Makes me feel dry again just to glimpse it. Come on, let's have a drink," and Bristles led the way between the trees toward the lonely looking place.
"A queer spot, Fred," he remarked. "Looks like it's deserted; and yet there's smoke coming out of the chimney; and I saw a pig run around the corner of that little stable. Here's our well; draw a bucket while I get my wind. Oh! did you hear that, Fred? It sounded just for all the world like a groan; and, as sure as anything, it came right out of this same well!"