"Think you're pretty smart, don't you?" he said, in mock resentment, as they came near. "I've got so many thistles in my feet you'll have to carry me home now."
With that he began to limp in an exaggerated manner, as though he had been completely crippled by his efforts to regain his socks and shoes.
"We wouldn't carry you to the end of the lane," said Frank promptly. "You'd better keep your feet moving if you want to come with us."
"Where are you going?"
"Down to the old mill. Stummer tells us the place is running again."
"Hurray!" shouted Chet. "I'll race you!" and, forgetting all about his tender foot-soles, he led the crowd in a mad race toward the main road.
CHAPTER VII
In the Mill Race
An hour later, the Hardy boys and their chums reached the vicinity of the old mill.
They had lunch in the shade of the trees along the deserted road, and it was early in the afternoon when they arrived at the top of the hill that overlooked the river.