"Well, this doesn't look much like a place," remarked Sam, as they got
out of the heavy lumber wagon which had brought them and their outfit
over.
"Phew! but aint it cold!" exclaimed Tom, dancing around and slapping his
arms over his chest. "I wonder how Nellie and Grace Laning like this?"
"I'll wager you've been thinking of Nellie all the way up," said Dick
slyly, remembering how his brother had tormented him about Dora
Stanhope.
"Couldn't think of anything but how cold it was," growled Tom, but his
face took on a sudden redness. "Where do you go next?" he demanded, to
change the subject.
"Let's go over to the store and ask for Mr. John Barrow," suggested
Dick.
The store was at a fork in the roads, and thither they hurried, to get
inside, for the ride from Barton's Corners had certainly been a chilling
one. In the store they found a big pot stove throwing out a generous
amount of heat, and around this stove were gathered half a dozen men,
smoking and telling stories.
"So you are the young men who are looking for John Barrow," said the
storekeeper, after listening to what Dick had to say.
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