"About a mile back," replied Will.
"And what might your names be?"
Jed told him, wondering the while at the man's rather queer manner.
"And what might be the name of the place where you live?"
"Well, it might be almost anything," responded Jed, unable to withstand the chance to make a little joke, "but it happens to be Lockport."
"Lockport. That's a queer name. If it was out West, where I come from, they'd probably call it 'Dead Man's Gulch,' or 'Red Horseville,' or 'Eagle Pass,' or some such common-sense name as that. But Lockport——"
"They call it that because when you're there you're as good as locked up," spoke Jed. "You can't get away from it; that is, if you're poor."
"Are you poor?" inquired the man, with a quick look from under his shaggy brows at the two boys.
"Well, we don't throw any gold dollars over our left shoulder," replied Jed. "My father is a farmer, and I never knew any rich ones."
"That's so," admitted the man. "They generally have to work hard for their money."