IT WAS a long and tedious ride. The roads were not of the best—indeed they were not far from the worst—and more than once the stage had a narrow escape from tipping over.

Tom did not complain, however. He liked the excitement of the ride, and did not mind the violent jolting, though it made his limbs ache and his bones sore.

Percy Burnett grumbled enough for Tom and himself, too.

“I wouldn’t have taken this infernal stage,” he said, at a halting-place, “if I had known it would shake me to pieces.”

“It is better than walking,” said one of the passengers, philosophically.

“I don’t know about that,” answered Burnett. “I would about as soon walk.”

Tom heard this, but did not think Mr. Burnett in earnest. For his own part, though an inexperienced traveler, he showed that he was already a good one, for he met, with cheerful good humor, the discomforts of the trip.

About five miles before the stage reached its destination Percy Burnett called out to the driver:

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“How much further have we got to go, driver?”

“Five or six miles, sir.”

“I can’t stand it.”

“You won’t have to stand,” said a good-natured fellow-passenger. “You can sit.”

Percy Burnett turned upon him irritably.

“You may consider that very witty, sir,” he said, “but I don’t.”

“No offense intended,” said the other, pleasantly.

“I’ve a great mind to walk,” said Burnett. “Driver, is it easy to find the road?”

“Yes, sir; straight ahead.”

“And it’s only about five miles?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I will walk; but I shall want company. Tom, are you tired?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you willing to walk the rest of the way with me?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Tom, cheerfully.

He answered truly, for his limbs were cramped by sitting for many hours in one position, and he felt that it would be agreeable to limber them a little with exercise.

“I don’t know but I’ll join you,” said a passenger.

Percy Burnett looked excessively annoyed.

“If you don’t object to my company,” continued the other.

“Please yourself, sir,&............