managed to catch a frisky little squirrel, which, wishing to take
home, he had imprisoned in one of his side pockets that had a flap;
but, desirous of fondling the furry little object, he had
incautiously inserted his bare hand once too often; for its long
teeth, so useful for nut-cracking, went almost through his thumb, and
gave his such an electric shock that in the confusion the frightened
animal managed to escape once more to its native wilds.

Hugh, as he went along toward home, was really taking mental notes
concerning the lay of the land, and with an object in view. He was
entered for the fifteen-mile Marathon race (an unusually long
distance for boys to run, by the way, and hardly advisable under
ordinary conditions), and one of the registering places where every
contestant had to sign his name to a book kept by a judge so as to
prove that he had actually reached that particular and important
corner of the rectangular course, had been the quaint little old road
tavern just half a mile back of them.

"You're wondering just why I'm so curious about the country up here,
I can see, fellows," Hugh was saying about the time we meet them;
"and, as we all belong to the same school, and our dearest wish is to
see Scranton High win the prize that is offered by the committee in
the Marathon, I don't mind letting you in. I know something about
this country up here, and have traced on a surveyor's chart the
ordinary course a fellow would be apt to take in passing from the
second tally post, that old tavern back of us, along this road to the
canal, and from there across the old logging road to Hobson's Pond,
where there's going to be the last registering place before the dash
for home. Well, I've figured it out that a fellow would save
considerable ground if he left this same road half a mile below, and