"What of? I don't care for creek water, and it's too far to go back to the house."
"Here's where I stand treat, and surprise you," went on Jed. "Come on. Your horse will stand without hitching."
"I don't know about that. He's been acting queer, lately. He was quite frisky when I started off ahead of you this morning, and tried to run away."
"You don't say so? Fancy Pete running away! Maybe you'd better tie him."
"I will. There's a big stone here. But what are you going to drink? I tell you I won't touch that creek water. I don't believe it's good, the creek's so low."
"That's all right. Come on with me."
Jed, whose horse showed no signs of straying away, left his steed standing in the middle of a row of corn, while Will fastened Pete to a big boulder, by wrapping the reins around the stone. The elder brother then led the way to the creek, which bordered the corn field, and striding to a spot where some weeping willow trees cast a cool shade, he plunged his hand down in a little pool, and drew up an earthen jug.
"What do you say to that?" he asked.
"Switchel?" inquired Will
"That's what. I made a jug of it this morning when I knew we were coming over to this hot place. That's what made me late, and you got here ahead of me."