ador and Mrs. Morton."

"But where are Ruth and Grace?" inquired Ralph.

"Over yonder," laughed Bab, pointing to the green inclosure in front of
them.

The boys spied Ruth and Grace some distance off. The two girls were deep
in conversation with a farm boy. Strutting around near them were a fat
turkey gobbler and a Plymouth Rock rooster.

Just at this moment Ruth was giving her instructions. "Be sure you bring
the turkey and the rooster over to the Fair Grounds by ten o'clock
to-morrow morning."

The boy grinned. "I'll have 'em here sure, Miss."

"Ruth," asked Grace, as the two girls started back across the meadow to
join their friends, "do you suppose it will be unkind for us to try to
drive these poor barnyard fowls across a field before so many people? I
presume the poor old birds will be frightened stiff. Whoever heard of
anything so utterly absurd as a Gymkana race."

"Oh, no, you tender-hearted Grace," Ruth assured her. "I don't think the
kind of pets we are to drive to-morrow will be much affected by our
efforts. Indeed they are likely to lead us more of a chase than we shall
lead them. And I don't believe the annoyance of being run across this
field by us for a few yards equals the nervous shock of being scared by
an automobile or a carriage. That alarm may overtake poor Brother Turkey
and Mr. Rooster any day. I think our race is going to be the greatest fun
ever! Why! I think I see Ralph Ewing and Hugh over there with the girls.
Isn't that great?"

"Miss Morton!" Hugh was protesting gayly, as Grace and Ruth joined the
crowd of their friends. "You don't mean to say that Barbara and Ruth have
put Ralph's name and mine down for three of your performances? How shall
we ever live through such a tremendous strain! Kindly explain to me what
is expected of us."

Dorothy Morton got out her blankbook, where she had written each item of
the next day's programme. "Well, Mr. Post, you and Mr. Ewing are down for
three of our best events, 'The Egg and Spoon Race,' 'The Dummy Race' and
'The Thread and Needle Race.'"

"All right," declared Ralph, meekly accepting his fate, "but will you
kindly tell me what a Thread and Needle Race is?"

"It is a very easy task, Ralph, compared with what Grace and I have
undertaken," Ruth assured him. "All you do, in the 'Thread and Needle
Race,' is to ride across this field on horseback carrying a needle. Of
course, the real burden is on the woman. It always is. Some fair one is
w