It was unmistakably the voice of a farmer, and Tom could hear footsteps approaching on the run.
"Who be you, anyhow?" the voice repeated. "I'll have the constable after you in a jiffy if you're a tramp."
"I'm not a tramp," called Tom promptly. "I've met with an accident. Where am I?"
"Humph! Mighty funny if you don't know where you are," commented the farmer. "Jed, bring a lantern until I take a look at who this is."
"All right, pop," answered another voice, and a moment later Tom saw a tall man standing in front of him.
"I'll give you a look at me without waiting for the lantern," said Tom quickly, and he struck a match, holding it so that the gleam fell upon his face.
"Salt mackerel! It's a young feller!" exclaimed the farmer. "Who be you, anyhow, and what you doin' here?"
"That's just what I would like to know," said Tom, passing his hand over his head, which was still paining him. "Am I near Albany? That's where I started for this morning."
"Albany? You're a good way from Albany," replied the farmer. "You're in the village of Dunkirk."
"How far is that from Centreford?"