In less than half an hour we met the old Squire with the team and two
men from the Morey farm. The old gentleman had arrived there about six
o'clock the night before and had been worried as to what had become of
us. He must have passed the place where Old Peg had bolted up the road
not long after we were there; but it was already so dark that he had not
seen our snow-covered tracks.
"Well, well, boys, you must have had a hard time of it!" were his first
words. "Where did you pass the night?"
"At the old Cronin farm, I guess," Addison replied.
"That lonesome place!" the old Squire exclaimed.
"It _was_ slightly lonesome," Addison admitted dryly.
"Did you see a ghost?" one of the men asked with a grin.
"Not a white one," Addison replied. "But we saw something pretty big and
black. There were owls in the chimney and foxes in the cellar--also a
bear. I guess that's all the ghost there is. But there's a hay bill for
somebody to pay; about three hundredweight, I think."
From there on, with the men to help us, we made better progress, and
before noon we had delivered the flock to its new owner. The warm dinner
that we ate at the Morey farm tasted mighty good to Addison and me.
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