“Thanks, son, but it seems like a worthy object, only I want you to promise that you’ll both be careful and not take unnecessary chances.”
“We’ll do that,” both boys replied together.
Tuesday morning came in due time and, after an early breakfast, they were ready to start, having packed what things they would be apt to need the night before.
“Don’t forget your promise,” Mr. Golden cautioned as they jumped into the saddles of their motorcycles.
“We won’t,” both shouted back, waving their hands.
“And don’t forget my little ghost,” Edna called after them.
But they were too far away for her to catch their answer.
Moosehead Lake, the largest body of water in Maine, lies about sixty miles to the north of Skowhegan. Their way was by a dirt road but as it was in fairly good shape and there was but little traffic they made excellent time and it was but a few minutes after nine o’clock when they rode into Greenville, a small town at the foot of the lake.
“Two hours flat,” Bob glanced at his watch as they stopped in front of the general store where, he had often declared you could buy anything from a toothpick to a second hand pulpit.
Entering the store they made a few purchases and in a few minutes were again on their way. After making a sharp turn to the left on the outskirts of the town they climbed a long hill and at its top Bob, who was slightly ahead, held up his hand as a signal that he was about to stop.