Part 33 (2/2)
”Must be something very queer in this, when our escape makes them turn around and go back,” spoke Bart.
”Looks as if we were surely mixed up in that mystery,” came from Frank.
”Wish we knew how.”
”We'll soon know,” replied Bart. ”This thing will have to end in a little while. Now, the question is, what are we going to do?”
”Let's look for a place to stay the rest of the night,” counseled Frank.
”All right, only I don't feel much like tramping through the woods and fields in the dark and barefooted,” objected Fenn. ”Why not stay here until it's light enough to see where we are going?”
After talking it over they decided this was the best plan. It was too risky tramping about in an unknown locality, especially without some protection for their feet. Bart walked back away from the river. Then he called to his chums:
”Here's a hay field, fellows. It's been cut but hasn't been c.o.c.ked up yet. Come on, we'll make a pile of it and crawl in to get warm.”
It was a good suggestion. The half-cured gra.s.s made a warm nest for the thinly clad boys, and they huddled down together in a big mound of the fragrant hay, pulling it over themselves until they were hidden from sight, leaving only a little hole to breathe through. It was so warm and comfortable that they speedily fell asleep.
The sun was s.h.i.+ning when they awakened. Bart sprang up, scattering the hay all about, and his companions followed.
”Oh, for a bit of breakfast!” Fenn remarked.
”'So say we all of us,'” chanted Bart.
”There's a chance of it!” exclaimed Ned.
”What?”
”Breakfast!” and he pointed to a little village about half a mile away.
”Hurrah! We're in luck!” cried Ned. ”Now for a meal and a chance to send word home!”
”We can't go looking this way!” exclaimed Fenn. ”Look at our clothes!”
”You mean don't look at 'em,” corrected Bart. ”We'll hang a sign out; 'We have better ones at home.' That will satisfy any one. As for me I'd go there and ask for a bite if I only had my swimming togs on, and these are a heap-sight more respectable than those. Here goes!”
He strode forward, pulling wisps of hay from his hair. The others followed. From the field they emerged into a country road that led to the village. They were almost at the outskirts of the hamlet, where several houses were grouped together when a boy came from one out into the highway, carrying a pail of milk.
”That looks good!” exclaimed Bart. ”Hi, kid,” he called, ”sell us a drink of milk, will you?”
The boy halted. He gazed at the four strange figures approaching; figures clad in ragged overalls and jumpers; bare-footed figures, with bits of hay clinging to them. Then the boy dropped his pail of milk spilling it all over and with a yell of: ”Pop! Pop! Here they be!” he dashed back into the house.
The next moment three men came from the house. They carried clubs in their hands, and one had a gun.
”Here they are!” called one, as the three advanced on the run toward the boys.
”Polite way to receive guests,” commented Bart.
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