“What’s that?” inquired Fred.
“We don’t have to swelter before the sun beats down upon us. It will be plenty of time to see what we have to do if we find it so warm on the road that we don’t want to go on.”
Soon after breakfast the boys started on their homeward ride.
True to its promise the heat steadily increased and a glare that was exceedingly trying to the eyes beat down upon the roadway.
George increased the speed at which he was driving, but the air which fanned their faces was almost like that which comes from a heated oven.
Already the cattle in the nearby fields had sought the shade of the trees in the pastures. The hens in the farmyards also were lying in the shade, their wings partly extended as if they were trying to cool their heated bodies.
“Hens in hot weather,” said George, “always make me think they are laughing at us.”
“What do you mean?” demanded John. “Who ever heard a hen laugh.”
“I didn’t say I had heard them laugh, but they have their mouths open.”
“Hens don’t have mouths, my friend.”