"Hullo, Brown!" responded the other, arresting his squeaking progress with signs of surprise at the moist tableau before him.
"Where goin'?" asked Ben with masculine brevity.
"Got to carry this home, hang the old thing."
"Where to?"
"Batchelor's, down yonder," and the boy pointed to a farm-house at the foot of the next hill.
"Goin' that way, take it right along."
"What for?" questioned the prudent youth, distrusting such unusual neighborliness.
"She's tired, wants a ride; I'll leave it all right, true as I live and breathe," explained Ben, half ashamed yet anxious to get his little responsibility home as soon as possible, for mishaps seemed to thicken.
"Ho, you couldn't cart her all that way! she's most as heavy as a bag of meal," jeered the taller lad, amused at the proposition.
"I'm stronger than most fellers of my size. Try, if I ain't," and Ben squared off in such scientific style that Joslyn responded with sudden amiability,—