"After a good nooning among the Bergen shades a bee-line can be struck for Dorchester, over a road with occasional patches of sand. Luckily these patches can be avoided by making use of portages in the shape of the ever-welcome cow-path, which winds off to the side of the road most conveniently. The cow figures most usefully in touring as a path-maker in districts where the road commissioners are derelict. Also as a dispenser of a beverage which is the best of all drinks anywhere, and especially on the road."
The guide-book also went on to say that at one place along the route a cow-path led directly to a brook, at which the weary and hungry wheelman might stop and cast a line with a more than reasonable expectation of catching a good-sized trout for his dinner.
"We've struck it," said Arthur, who had read aloud the route for that particular day before the three left their hotel in the morning. "Here's the sand, and it's knee-deep too, as sand always is. Now, where is the cow-path that leads to the brook?"
"Here's a path, but whether it goes to the brook or not, I can't guess," answered Joe. "Let's try it, and see if it will take us to a dispenser of that beverage, whatever it is, the book speaks of."
"It's milk," said Roy, smacking his lips. "I'd a little rather have it off the ice, but I wouldn't refuse it warm just now, for I am thirsty and hungry besides."
"That's nothing new," retorted Joe. "You've been that way ever since we left home. Come on, fellows. Somebody has been through here, for the most of the branches have been removed, and a log or two cut out of the path."
"What is that welcome sound that comes faintly to my ears?" said Roy, in a heavy voice, as he mounted his wheel and followed his leader through the woods. "Is it what Byron calls the tocsin of the soul, the dinner bell? No; it is a cow bell. Push on, Joe. Who's got a cup handy?"
Their first hard work was to locate the cow which wore the bell, and their second to ascertain whether or not she would permit the boys to approach her on short acquaintance. They had no trouble at all in going straight to the little glade from which the bell sounded, for the path took them to it. There were half a dozen cows in sight, but they were evidently accustomed to having wheelmen intrude upon them, for they merely looked at the boys and went on with their feeding. The three bicycles were leaned against convenient trees, the cup Roy wanted was quickly brought to light, and then Joe and Arthur began a cautious stalking of the nearest cow.
"That's no way to do business," said Roy, who brought up the rear with the cup in his hand. "Go straight up to her as if you had a secret to tell her, for if you go to sneaking she'll get suspicious and dig out. That's the way to do it, Joe. Now scratch her on the neck or behind the horns, and I'll soon have a cupful of that beverage which is the best of all drinks anywhere, and especially on the road. I declare, she's as gentle as an old cow, and it's going to be a good deal easier than I thought. Art, you had better lumber back to the bikes and bring two more cups. We'll have a jolly tuck-out on milk while we are about it."
In a few minutes more three hungry and tired boys, each with a brimming cup of rich country milk in one hand and a sandwich in the other, were sitting on the ground under the shade of a spreading beech, enjoying a substantial lunch and fervently thanking the author of their road-book for his timely suggestions regarding cow-paths and the kindly animals which made them. Of course it was much better than any lunch they ever had at home, and they had but one fault to find with it; there wasn't enough of it.