"Good boys! Good boys!" said father, coughing to cover the break in his
voice.

"I say, this is great!" called Jot, who led the van, of course. "This
is the way to do it!"

[Illustration: "I say, this is great!" called Jot.]

"Yes, sir!" Kent cried in high feather, "it feels as if you were reg'lar
old knights, you know! Isn't it jolly not to know what's going to
happen next?"

Old Tilly's wheel slid up abreast of Kent's and proceeded sociably.

"Esau Whalley's farm 'happens next,' and then old Uncle Rod King's
next," Old Tilly said calmly. "I guess we better wait till we get out
o' this neck o' woods before we settle down to making believe!"

But three wheels driven by three pairs of sturdy, well-muscled legs get
over miles swiftly, and by ten o'clock the boys had turned down an
unfamiliar road and were on the way to things that happened. Before
noon knightly deeds were at their hand. Jot himself discovered the
first one. He vaulted from his bicycle suddenly, as they were bowling
past a little gray house set in weeds, and the others, looking back, saw
him carrying a dripping pail of water along the path to the kitchen
doorsteps.

"The pail was out there on the well curb, asking to be filled," he
explained brusquely, as he caught up with them, "and the old woman