"Where?" he repeated, reproachfully. "'Tain't fur." He waved his arm in a wide circle. "Over there. Bless me—the idea! Sich a question."

"Can we get something to eat around here?" asked Dave Brandon. "I'm almost starved."

"Over to Hiram Sladder's, I reckon. 'Tain't more'n one o'clock, now. Going to stay in town long?"

"We'll keep right on to Mapleton," volunteered Nat. "How do we get there?"

"To Mapleton, eh? Well, there's two ways I know of, jest two of 'em."

"How?" asked Nat.

"One of 'em's walking, and the other's riding," replied "Jack," laconically.

"Ha, ha! Bully for you," roared Hackett. "Wow—that's a good one. 'Jack,' you're all right."

The station-master grinned, and looked at the boys with a mildly indulgent air.

"You certainly ain't a-going camping out, air you?" he asked.

"Of course we are," answered Bob. "But for that, we wouldn't be carrying around these guns."

"Jack" shook his head.

"A risky business—a purty risky business fur boys, I call it. Why, there's wolves—"

"And there's a gun all ready for 'em," interrupted John Hackett, holding up his rifle.

"An' wildcats."

"Well, we have some more guns."

"An'—an'—well, I call it a purty risky business. However, 'tain't none of my affair. Yonder right hand road takes yer to Sladder's."

"Come on, fellows," said Dave; "I'm hungry as a bear."

The stout boy jumped off the platform and began striding across the road. They toiled up a gentle incline, trudging in the middle of the highway. Once at the top, they saw a long descent. A flagpole was visible, rising above the crest of another hill.

"Where there's a flagpole, there's a 

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