“We won’t if we stay here,” said Jelly. “I’m going on.”
So they took the road and followed it as it curved through the darkening fog to the right. After awhile their ears were gladdened with the sound of a creaking wagon and a moment later it took shape before them. There was a dejected-looking horse and an equally dejected-looking driver on the seat of an ancient farm wagon.
“Hello,” greeted Rob. “Which way is Riverport School, sir?”
The man pulled his horse in and leisurely examined the boys before he answered.
“You belong there?” he asked in a suspicious way.
“Yes, but we’ve sort of lost our bearings in this fog.”
The man chuckled.
“Well, you’re coming away from it as fast as you can,” he said. “Get ap.”
“What!” they exclaimed in chorus. “Isn’t this the Hillsgrove road?”
“No,” replied the man over his shoulder as the horse broke into a slow jog, “it’s the Lebanon Springs road, o’ course. Guess you boys don’t study geography much.” And he chuckled some more.