“Anyhow,” said Dan hopefully, “we can get some crackers and cheese in the store.”
But when they had piled through the door they changed their minds. It was a hardware store! A little old man with a bald head and brass-rimmed spectacles limped down behind the counter to meet them.
“Is this Jericho?” asked Bob.
“Jericho? No, this ain’t Jericho,” was the answer.
“Oh! Er—what is it?”
“Bakerville.”
“Where’s Bakerville?”
“Right here.”
“I know, but—well, where’s Jericho?”
“’Bout eight miles from here.”