“I’ll tackle this house,” suggested Joe, “and try the dog’s teeth, but I’ve always liked these pants,” he added ruefully.
“As we’re young at the game we’ll omit that feature of the tramping business,” Wayne replied. “For to-day we will be two scientists studying the farming methods of the country. We will pay for our dinner and save our trousers.”
They chose the largest farmhouse in sight, made their appeal, and dined at the family table. Wayne paid generously for their entertainment and smoked a pipe with the farmer, who gave them permission to sleep in his barn. In the morning they dipped themselves in the neighbouring creek and paid for lodging and breakfast at a house farther on. They were a little footsore, but finding that Wayne had no intention of submitting himself to the indignities suffered by professional tramps, Joe went forward in livelier spirits. He was not without his pride, and he was ambitious that his hero should be respectable. At intervals Wayne chaffed him in his old familiar fashion, and this brought Joe almost to singing pitch.
“I guess this is all right,” he vouchsafed, as they lounged in the shade and ate a luncheon purchased at a country store. A pail of milk procured at a farmhouse graced their banquet. Sobriety, Joe reflected, was assured so long as this life continued.
They preferred haymows to the beds that were offered them, and when it was found that they paid their way no one denied them. It grew intensely hot on the second day, and at night a thunder-storm swept the land with loud cannonading. The lightning glowed at the cracks of the loft where they had found lodging; it seemed at times that the barn was wrapt in flame. They slept late the next morning, breakfasted and resumed their leisurely course. They rested often and indulged in siestas of length at noon. The wind and sun tanned them; Wayne with his reddish beard was hardly the man we have seen at the Allequippa Club.
They came upon a becalmed automobile in which a gentleman and a number of ladies were touring to Washington. The party was chafing at the enforced delay; and the two wanderers promptly shed their coats and lent assistance. When the damage was repaired the gentleman appraised their services and tendered payment. Joe, with scornful rejection on his tongue, was surprised to see Wayne accept the bill and lift his cap in acknowledgment. They watched the car gather speed and dip out of sight beyond a hill.
“I didn’t suppose we’d take tips,” remarked Joe meekly, looking at a two-dollar bill in his own hand.
“My dear companion in misery, we gentlemen of the road refuse nothing! And besides, it was cheap at the price. Any well-regulated garage would have taxed him ten dollars. And it pleased me to see that I’m so well disguised. I’ve sat at the same table with that man and he didn’t know me from Adam. The barber and tailor make us, Joe—remember that I said so. I’m learning something new every day and by the time we’ve walked around the world we’ll be educated men.”
“I’m afraid you’d lose me,” grinned Joe. “I heard a train whistle a while ago. It almost gave me heart disease.”
There were times now when Wayne seemed himself, but he was more and more inexplicable. When he sprawled under a tree during their long noonings Joe knew that he did not sleep, but stared silently at the sky; and as they trudged along many hours would pass in utter silence. And so, by devious ways, they came to Gettysburg.