“We won’t go up to that hotel if we have to pitch our tent here on the sand back of the depot,” said John.
A WATERFALL IN THE WOODS
They heard the coach rattle briskly away up the road, and the depot-master stamping around inside. He came out presently, and after locking the front door approached them. “Expectin’ some one to meet ye?” he asked. He was a stout figured man, with a smooth, round, good-natured face that won the boys’ confidence at once.
“No,” John said, “we don’t know any one about here. We came on a little camping trip. You see in Boston there are horse-cars running every which way that take you anywhere you want to go, and I s’pose we’ve got so used to them that we never thought of having any trouble in getting to the place we wanted to go to, though this is out in the country.”
“Oh, ye came from Boston, did ye? I kinder thought ye was city fellers. Guess ye’ll find horse-cars in these parts about as scarce as hen’s teeth—just about. Whare was ye thinkin’ of goin’, anyhow?”
“We were going to Rainbow Falls.”
“Rainbow Falls? Well, now, you’ve got me. I do’no’ as I ever heared of ’em. Where be they?”
Harry whipped out his circular. “Why, here they are,” he said. “See! right here under this heading, ‘Nature’s Attractions in the Drives about Groveland,’” and he pointed to the line underscored with red ink.
