There was less talking now in the ranks. Fellows had found it wise to husband their breath, for the road had grown muddy and wet and the walking was harder. The rear squad soon dropped from sight around a turn and Sam’s party, pushing forward at a good rate of speed, began to look for signs of civilisation. But another half-hour passed, with its accompanying rest—only two or three minutes this time—before they caught sight of their first house. It was a deserted cabin perched on a gravelly hill just off the road. But even the sight of an empty house was welcome, since it seemed to promise a settlement, near at hand. And, a quarter of an hour later, the settlement, such as it was, appeared. There was a country store and half a dozen houses in it, and Sam called a halt while he entered the store to make inquiries. Several of the boys went inside with him, while the others seated themselves on the edge of the rickety platform outside to rest.
The only occupant of the store was an elderly man who hobbled forward with the aid of a hickory stick. He was very deaf and Sam was forced to twice repeat his question before the store-keeper sensed it. Then he grinned a toothless grin and asked: “On foot, be ye?”
Sam assured him that they were and the old man shook his head.
“It’s a goodish way to Miles,” he said. “Most four miles, I guess, by the road.”
“Four miles!” ejaculated Sam. “But, man alive, we’ve walked at least six and it was supposed to be only seven when we started.”
“Where’d ye come from?”
“The Wigwam, a boys’ camp on Indian Lake. It’s about three miles this side of Indian Lake village.”
“Well, if ye was goin’ to Miles why didn’t ye cross the lake?” inquired the man contemptuously.
“We wanted to walk. Does this road we’re on now go to Miles?”
“Uh-huh, mostly. It goes to Tappenville, too, and Lower Millis. If you keep to the right turn about a mile an’ a half beyond here and then take the middle branch a ways beyond that ag’in you’ll likely get to Miles.”