It was about half-past four when they gained a point where the country began to wear a familiar look.
'Shotford Corner!' cried Chippy. 'We'll see Bardon from the cob.'
The cob, as Chippy called it, was a small knoll on which stood a finger post, with many arms to guide wayfarers along the roads which met at Shotford Corner. The boys gained the knoll by the smallest of the side-roads which ran in at that point.
They paused beneath the finger-post, and looked ahead. There was their old familiar heath spreading away to the distant spires of Bardon, and from this point on they knew every step of the way. 'Six miles to Bardon' was on the arm above their heads.
'We'll be home in less than a couple of hours now,' said Dick. 'We'll put this journey to our credit easily enough, Chippy.'
Suddenly behind them a wild honk-honk—h-o-n-k of a motor-horn broke out. The boys looked along the road, and saw a car coming towards them at full speed with two figures in it. The driver was performing a fantasia on his horn; the passenger was waving his cap.
'Why,' cried Dick, 'it's my father out in his car with Uncle Jim.'
'Well, here you are,' shouted Mr. Elliott, as the car sped up to them. 'We've been scouring these roads all the afternoon in search of you. How have you got on?'
'Oh, splendid, father—splendid,' cried Dick. 'We should like to start again on Monday, shouldn't we, Chippy?'
'It 'ud suit me fust rate,' said the Raven, respectfully saluting his employers.