"Hurry, Ralph!" exclaimed Emmons, tossing them a dime. "We got no time to lose. Glad there's no bones broken, but you must look sharp."
Ralph remounted and they were soon on the way again. For the next two or three days they passed through a mostly level country, where great cotton plantations, with stretches of swamp between, alternated with broad pine barrens.
In these last the wind sighed mournfully, and the soil looked so poor that the mountain boy felt that there was a section worse off than his own steep and gravelly native land.
They arrived in Augusta by way of a ferry across the dirty, narrow river that flows near the city. The mules were duly delivered to the proper parties and the two at last felt at leisure to do as they pleased.
Emmons took Ralph to a soda fountain.
"What will you have?" he asked.
"I don't know; whatever you like," said the boy, once more at sea as to what he might expect.
When the effervescent liquid foamed and fizzed, Ralph stared in amazement.
"Must I drink it?" he faltered, noticing the ease with which Emmons swallowed his.
"Of course, you must. Did you think it was to wash with?"