Pushing the wheel up straight at each revolution 



to spend the evening with a friend who 

 lived there. During the whole trip we 

 often left our outfit unguarded for 

 hours at a time and never had a thing 

 disturbed. We attended the theater 

 with our friend H., who decided to walk 

 out and spend the night in camp with 

 us. 



It was nearly one a. m. when we 

 reached there and my partner left to 

 get a drink from a well some eighty or 

 one hundred yards away. He did not 

 return, but instead came two big, husky 

 farmers with cordwood clubs; and from 

 each of three other sides came three 

 other pairs each of which seemed to be 

 bigger and worse-tempered than the 

 others. They asked many questions, 

 but would answer none. After being 

 convinced of the identity of our Athol 

 friend they departed. Our companion 

 was allowed to return from the well, 

 where he had been held up, and we were 

 left in peace to figure it out for our- 

 selves. The next morning I met the 

 spokesman of the party and finally per- 

 suaded him to explain. Several farm 

 houses had been burglarized just at 

 that time, and seeing us leave our team 



in the early evening, tlie neighbors had 

 sounded the alarm and collected all the 

 nearby farmers to take summary ven- 

 geance when we returned with our 

 booty. As time went on until one a. m. 

 they became more and more certain 

 of our identity, so that only the pres- 

 ence of a local friend of good repute 

 saved us from serious trouble. 



From there we proceeded to the last 

 town we visited in Massachusetts, 

 Royalston, by name, and as our horse's 

 hoofs had begun to crack from sand, 

 we decided to have him shod. The 

 only smith we could find was a man 

 eighty-four years old who only shod 

 the very "quietest of horses." We con- 

 vinced him that that was the very horse 

 we had, so he did it. While he was 

 busy on the horse we borrowed his 

 tools and cut three feet off the length 

 of our buckboard, as every time we 

 turned a corner it was so long that it 

 threw us off the seat into the road. 

 Saturday afternoon, July 3d, we visited 

 the stone quarries at Fitz Williams, N. 

 H., and drove through Troy, N. H., 

 camping a half mile North of that 

 place. Here on Sunday morning we 



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