"Holloa!"

It was a boy's voice that Paul heard.

Looking up he saw a sedate company of cows entering the pasture single
file through an aperture made by letting down the bars. Behind them
walked a boy of about his own size, flourishing a stout hickory stick.
The cows went directly to the spring from which Paul had already drunk.
The young driver looked at our hero with some curiosity, wondering,
doubtless, what brought him there so early in the morning. After a
little hesitation he said, remarking Paul's bundle, "Where are you
traveling?"

"I don't know exactly," said Paul, who was not quite sure whether it
would be politic to avow his destination.

"Don't know?" returned the other, evidently surprised.

"Not exactly; I may go to New York."

"New York! That's a great ways off. Do you know the way there?"

"No, but I can find it."

"Are you going all alone?" asked his new acquaintance, who evidently
thought Paul had undertaken a very formidable journey.

"Yes."