As Tom finished a large farm wagon rattled into sight, drawn by a pair of bony horses and driven by a tall, lank farmer.
"Hullo, wot's the matter?" asked the farmer, as he drew rein.
"Had a breakdown?"
"No, I've had a smash-up," answered Tom.
"My brother's ankle is sprained, and we would like to know if you can give him a lift to the next town," put in Dick. "We'll pay you for your trouble."
"That's all right—Seth Dickerson is allers ready to aid a fellow-bein' in distress," answered the farmer. "Can ye git in the wagon alone?"
Tom could not, and the farmer and Dick carried him forward and placed him on the seat. Then the damaged bicycle was placed in the rear of the turnout, and Seth Dickerson drove off, while Sam and Dick followed on their steeds of steel.
"I see you air dressed in cadet uniforms," remarked the farmer, as the party proceeded on its way. "Be you fellers from Pornell school?"
"No; we come from Putnam Hall," answered Tom.
"Oh, yes—'bout the same thing, I take it. How is matters up to the school—larnin' a heap?"
"We are trying to learn all we have to."