"Wonder who it can be?" came from Tom.
Nobody could answer that question, and in a thoughtful mood the three
Rover boys followed their uncle to the carriage and got in. Then the
team was touched up and away they whirled, out of the village, across
Swift River, and in the direction of Valley Brook farm.
It was a beautiful day in June and never had the country looked finer. As they swept along the well kept road Dick drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
"This air makes a fellow feel new all over!" he declared.
"I suppose you are going to plant and grow some wonderful things this summer, Uncle Randolph," said Tom. His uncle had studied scientific farming for years, but had never made any tremendous success of it in fact his experiments usually cost him considerably more than they brought in.
"Well—er—I am trying my hand this year on some Mexican melons said to be very fine, Thomas," was the reply.
"Mexican melons?" said the fun-loving Tom, innocently. "That puts me in mind when I was over to Albany last I saw a pumpkin in a restaurant window eight feet high and at least ten feet across."
"Is it possible!" ejaculated Randolph Rover, gazing at his nephew incredulously.
"Sure thing. The pumpkin looked to be good, too. They had a lot of pumpkin pies set around it, just for an advertisement."
"Thomas, did you measure that pumpkin?"