"Gracious! You need a geography to find yourself!" cried Mark, and began to laugh. "I suppose when you get to California you'll be moving over to China."
"No, these ere United States is good enough fer me to roam around in. I want to see the hull o' my own country, afore I trot along to fureign parts."
"Haven't you any outfit?" asked Si.
"Such as it is, a big bundle an' a stick. It's behind yonder rise o' ground," answered Maybe Dixon. "Whar be you from, as they ask down to Vermont?" And when they told him he nodded several times. "A good mixture—and it's mixtures what I like. Maybe we can make the journey right through together, eh?"
"We'll see," answered Bob, briefly, and started up the wagon. The other boys followed, and presently Maybe Dixon joined them, carrying over his shoulder a big bundle done up in an old red and white tablecloth.
"This here tablecloth was a weddin' present to my late departed wife," said he. "I keep it in memory o' the best woman thet ever breathed the breath o' life. Maybe it ain't so bright an' beautiful as it once was, but thet can't be helped. Besides, it was the only thing I had to wrap my load in when I started out."
That day saw them twenty-five miles on their journey, and when night came they were glad to rest themselves. They put up the tent close to the wagon and slept under the shelter of both, and Dixon laid himself down near by.
"Jest as soon sleep in the open, if it ain't rainin'," he said. "The fresh air is fine."
"I suppose I'll get used to it after a while," answered Mark. "But for the present I'm going to use the tent."
Maybe Dixon departed early in the morning, but came back before breakfast with a small bag of coffee under his arm.