longer had not Jack Beecham, who had assumed a temporary leadership of the excursion, warned them of the unwisdom of staying too long in one place.
A little farther along they saw an ideal winter scene. A large, comfortable farmhouse, with all the sheds and barns of a well-kept farm, lay at their feet under a mantle of white. From the broad chimney arose a straight column of blue smoke, telling of warmth within. In the barnyard were several head of comfortable looking sheep and fat cattle were contentedly ruminating in the shelter of a huge straw stack. One of the inmates of this cosy looking farmhouse had, probably unconsciously, added the last touch to complete the artistic effect of this scene of gray and white. In the door yard on a clothesline were three or four brilliantly red woolen shirts which heightened by contrast the more somber colors of the scene.
“That's our Mecca if the fates be propitious,” said Tom Shealey, as the boys were viewing the scene here described from an elevated point at least a mile away.
“It is a comfortable looking house and doubtless has a well-stocked larder. I wonder if the Dowsibel of the Kitchen could be induced to turn a spit for us.”
“'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished,” observed Beecham, “for already I believe I could eat a couple of sheep and a Michaelmas goose.”
The boys had already walked a good seven miles. All were beginning to feel tired and to realize the necessity of a good meal.
“Suppose we can not be entertained there?”suggested Ernest Winters.
“Then we shall have to tramp on till we find a place where we can be—perhaps ten miles more," said Roy Henning teasingly.
“O—oh,” groaned Ernest. Roy laughed.