“It’s a cinch, Phil! By Ned! I’m going to see more of it before night, or bust a trace!”
“Ugh!” shuddered Nan. “You can’t mean that you want to go back there, do you?”
“Why not? We’re strangers round here and when we find something curious yet unknown, that scares off the folks that have lived by it for years, it’s only natural to get our curiosity up to a point that we’ve just got to do something.”
The car sped on through the woods, then past open fields and soon they came up to a rather battered farmhouse with sundry outbuildings near it and stacks of hay which had been cut evidently from the neighboring marshes that jutted in and out of the timbered lands. At the gate Nan sprang down, and at the same time out came the farmer, followed by the same boy they had before seen on the hay-load.
Being invited inside, the boys entered the sitting-room, where two other men, garbed more like town dwellers, were seated. The farmer greeted the boys warmly, recalling to them their kindly behavior along the side-hill road a day or so before. At the same time the two men got up to leave, giving the farmer a modest price for their dinners and remarking that they might be back again shortly.
“Keep a bright lookout, Mr. Feeney. No knowing what you might run up against,” one said and they were gone. After this the boys had a sociable chat with Feeney, who pressed them to stay all night.
“Shan’t cost you a cent, boys, for you were good to us when Jack and Jill might have balked and dumped us over that bluff.”
“Well, it is possible we may come back. But in the meantime we want to have a look round at the timber.”
“Int’rested in timber, are ye? How’d ye come to meet up with Nan?”
The incidents connected with the Jersey bull were briefly related, Nan emphasizing how Phil had risked himself in her behalf and that they had kindly brought her home. This too pleased Feeney, who insisted more than before that they should stop with him while they were in the neighborhood.