home, after a day in the town market. The driver was asleep on the seat,
leaving to the sagacity of his animals the successful navigation of the
road.

Perhaps some movement of the horses or else the bright light of the
acetylene headlight falling on his face aroused the man, for he sat up
as Frank was about passing.

"Hello! is that you, Frank Bird?" he asked, leaning forward to look
closer at the rider of the bicycle.

"Sure; just been up to your neighbor's, Lovejoy's, with some medicine
for his Sue," returned the boy, recognizing the farmer.

"How is the gal gettin' on?" called the other, over the canvas top of
his seat.

"Fine. No danger, dad says!" answered Frank.

"That's good!" he heard the sympathetic neighbor remark, as he moved on.

Five minutes later and Frank once more found himself approaching the
Whympers place. As before, the house was in complete darkness, as if the
inmates were long since abed. Frank knew that the old man kept early
hours, seldom sitting up, for he read much during the day, having
nothing else to look after.

Then, as was only natural, the eyes of the bicycle boy turned once again
with more or less affection toward the quarter where he could just dimly
make out the long, squat shed out in the field, in which the precious