A long rest, with a hearty lunch, and then they were off again in the
clear moonlight. It was splendid. The trees, the road, the pale,
ghostly houses--everything had a weird, charmed aspect. They might have
been riding through fairyland. It was growing late, they knew, and at
last they stopped, out of sheer weariness.

A great, square bulk loomed faintly before them in the waning moonlight.
It might be a house--might be a mountain! Jot spurted on ahead to
reconnoiter.

"House!" he shouted back. "Doors open--all quiet--guess it's on a picnic
ground. I felt a stair that seemed to lead up to a balcony or
something."

"Well, we're sleepy enough. We'll take anything we can get!" yawned
Kent.

"Come on, then."

And, riding into what seemed a yard, they found a good place for their
wheels under some bushes. The moon was too low to give them any light,
but the boys found the doorway to the big building and went up the
stairs, guided by their hands along the narrow passageway. They could
only discern a queer little enclosure, topped by a little rail. They
were too thoroughly tired out to be curious, and, feeling some narrow
seats, they lay down, and, making themselves comfortable, were soon
asleep.

Jot was dreaming that Old Tilly had made him go to church and the people