“Sartain. Where are you going?”
“To Colebrook.”
“Then this is your team.”
Harry climbed up with a boy’s activity, and sat down on the broad seat, congratulating himself that he would have a chance to see the country, and breathe better air than those confined inside.
Soon the driver sat down on the box beside him, and started the horses.
“You’re a stranger, ain’t you?” he remarked, with an inquisitive glance at his young traveling companion.
“Yes; I’ve never been here before.”
“Are you going to the tavern?”
“No; I’m going to the house of Mr. John Fox. Do you know him?”
“I reckon everybody round here knows John Fox.”