do you think you can stand a mile or two of rough sledding; for the
'tote-road' is hardly meant for a wagon with springs?" Frank asked, as
the other vanished from sight, going back along the way they had come
from Centerville.

"'Deed an' I specks I kin, Marse Frank; dis chile is able to stan' a
heap o' knockin' 'round on 'casion. S'long as I keeps my shins safe, I
don't seem to keer 'bout much else. Say de word, sah, an' I'se ready to
hit um up ag'in right peart," was the reply from the old, gray-headed
Toby, who had worked for Frank's father many years--indeed, he was fond
of saying he had been a slave in the Virginia branch of the Langdon
family "befo' de wah."

The horses had not had a very hard pull up to this time, and were,
therefore, in pretty fair condition to attempt the last quarter of
the journey.

And they needed all their strength to drag that heavily-laden wagon over
the half-broken road, where so many obstacles stuck up to jolt the poor
driver until he almost lost his grip on the seat, though the boys had
been able to avoid most of these because they could steer aside with the
single line of wheels.

But the vehicle had been well made, and the horses were full of vim,
while the venerable black man who gripped the reins was a "sticker," as
he expressed it, after being once tossed out upon the back of the near
horse by the sudden stoppage of the wagon.

After rather a trying experience they finally sighted a column of smoke,
and, calling Toby's attention to this, Frank said: