s that won't hurt," admitted Tom, and a little later they
had lined up before a crossroads grocery, in front of which was the
magical sign: "Ice Cold Soda!"

"Ginger ale! Birch beer! Sasp'rilla! Cream sody!" rattled off the
snub-nosed and freckle-faced lad behind the counter, when our four
friends filed in and asked for some cool drink. "That's all I've got."

"Any seltzer?" asked Tom, who knew the risk of taking into an
over-heated system the artificially flavored and colored concoctions
that pass current as summer drinks.

"Seltzer?" queried the lad. "Do you mean that there fizzy stuff that
squirts all over when you press down on the handle of the bottle?"

"That's her!" laughed Jack. "Pass it out--if it's cold."

"Oh, it's cold all right, but nobody around here likes it," volunteered
the lad. "I took some once, and it tasted like salt water with needles
in it. I'd rather have strawberry pop."

"Seltzer's good for your system, son. Pass it out," ordered Tom, with
a laugh at the description of the mineral water, and the lad went to a
big refrigerator where, after moving out some tubs of butter, and some
bottles of milk, he came upon the seltzer which he set before our
heroes.

"That's good!" exclaimed Tom, as he drained his glass, and then, after
a brief rest, they started off on the cross-country run again, waving
farewell to the lad who had so aptly characterized the seltzer.

They crossed the river at Weldon, and circled up the hill to Marsden.
There the going was stiff, and they realized why Jackson had given them
such leeway in time, for the slope was a steep one.

"This is good for our legs," remarked Jack, as he plodded on.

"Yes, and Sam and Nick seem to be still ahead of us," remarked Tom.
"They're keeping up well--better than I thought they would."

"Unless they've taken a short cut," suggested George.

"They have to check in at Marsden," said Bert.

"Well, they may take a cut there. However, it doesn't matter," said
Tom.

It was beginning to get dusk now, the September days being short.
There were about five miles of the run left when the four lads paused
at a wayside farmhouse located at the fork of the highway to make sure
they were on the right route to reach the river road.

"Yes, you kin git to it this way," remarked a tall, lanky lad, who was
hanging over the front gate, seemingly waiting for someone. "There's a
bad hill, though."

"Is there any other road to the river?" a