Good-by, all! Be good little boys--go nighty-nighty!" They raced to the corner, scurried down the first side street, turned again, and slowed to a gallop.

Pringle was in high feather; he caroled blithesome as he rode: _"So those three little owls flew back up in the barn-- Inky, dinky, doodum, day! And they said, 'Those little mice make us feel so nice and warm!' Inky, dinky, doodum, day! Then they all began to sing, 'Too-whit! Too-who!' I don't think much of this song, do you?
But there's one thing about it--'tis certainly true-- Inky, dinky, doodum, day!"_ They reached the open; the gallop became a trot.
"I go north here," said Foy at the cross-roads above the town.

"Which way for you ?" "North too," said Pringle.

"I don't know just where, but you can tell me.

I go to a railroad station first--Aden.