“Not quite so bad as that,” laughed Lee, “though I don’t wonder that you think so. But we’ve only two more stations now before we come to Raneleigh. That’s the nearest station to the plantation.”
“Do we have far to walk to get to your place?” asked Fred, as he viewed their collection of suit cases rather apprehensively.
“Oh, we’re about six miles from the station,” rejoined Lee carelessly.
“Six miles,” gasped Fred. “Scubbity-yow! And on a hot day like this. I can see where I melt into a grease spot.”
“Hold your horses,” said Lee. “You won’t have to walk a step. One of the men will be at the station with a buckboard and a pair of mules. Ever ridden in a buckboard?”
“Yes,” replied Fred, “many a time out on the ranch. But I’ve never ridden behind mules. Do they step fast?”
“Not that you could notice,” grinned Lee. “Their strong point is in standing fast. Once in a while we have to build a fire under one of them to get it to budge. You’ll know a good sight more about mules than you do now when you go back to school.”
“School!” groaned Fred. “What’s the use of spoiling a perfectly good day by talking about school. We’ll have to go back soon enough. Let’s forget it while we’re here.”
In less than an hour they were approaching Raneleigh, and Bobby and Fred craned their necks in order to get a glimpse of the town. All they saw however as the train lumbered up to the platform was a general store, that stood opposite the station, and three or four dwellings located irregularly along a dusty street.
“As a matter of fact it isn’t a town at all, only a station,” explained Lee, as he led the way out on the platform. “Ah, there’s Jim!” he exclaimed, as a rather decrepit old negro came hobbling up to meet them. “How are you, Jim?”