Despite his age, the man was not hard of hearing, for he caught the big fellow’s words and shot him a look.
“Surely you will not turn us away now,” urged Frank. “It will be dark by the time we reach the road again.”
“That is nothing to me.”
The old man was about to close the door, when, to the astonishment of the boys, a musical, girlish voice said:
“Let them stop here, Drew. I know one of the young gentlemen.”
The bicyclists looked at each other inquiringly, wondering which one of them the owner of the voice could know. They all felt a thrill, for this added zest and romance to the little adventure.
“Am I dreaming?” whispered Bruce; “or did I hear the gentle ripple of a female voice?”
“Smoly hoke!” gasped Harry. “To find a girl in this spone lot—I mean lone spot! It is a marvel!”
“An’ dat voice oh hers am lek honeydew from heabben, chilluns—’deed it am!” gurgled Toots, poetically.
The old man seemed astonished and in doubt.