the big Granger who had taken them in tow. It was a day filled with a round of pleasure, as Jot had predicted.

The athletic contests on the primitive little race-track proved the greatest attraction of all. There were bicycle races after the foot-racing and hammer-throwing and high jumping. Jot longed to vault into his own wheel and whirl round the track dizzily, like the rest of them. He and Kent stood together close to the turning-point. They had somehow drifted away from Old Tilly.

A new race began, and up at the starting-place there seemed to be a good deal of hilarity. The hearty laughs were tantalizing.

"What is it? Why don't they come on and give us fellows a chance to laugh, too?" exclaimed Jot, impatiently.

Kent was peering sharply between his hands. He suddenly began to laugh.

"It's a slow race!" he cried. "They're trying to see who can get behind! Come on up further where we can see. It'll be great!"

"Come along, then—hurry!" shouted Jot.

"It's a free-for-all. Anybody can compete," somebody was saying as they passed. "But they've got to be slower than Old Tilly!"

"Can't do it!" whispered Jot. "Old Tilly can sit still on his bike."

"I hope he'll see the race," Kent panted. "It would be mean if he missed. Here's a good place—there they come. Look at 'em crawling along like snails! There's one chap clear behind. Yes, sir, he's standing still!"

Jot gave one look and uttered a shout:

"It's Old Tilly!"

"Jotham Eddy—no!"

"Look for yourself and see—ain't it?"

"Of course—no—yes, sir, it's Old Till, for a fact."

"And he's 'way behind—I told you there wasn't anybody slower'n Old
Tilly! He's beating as fast as anything."

"As slow as anything. Come on! Let's cheer him, Jot."

They caught off their caps and cheered wildly. Every-body else joined in, catching at the name and laughing over it as a good joke.

"Hurrah—hurrah for Old Tilly!"

"Hip, hip, 'n' a tiger for Old Til-ly!"

The time-keeper called time, and Old Tilly descended from his victorious wheel and bowed profoundly to his cheerers. He walked away to join the other boys with the exaggerated air of a great victor, and the people shouted again.

"Oh, I say, that was rich, Old Till," gasped Jot. "That was worth a farm!"

"What made you think of entering?" Kent laughed.

"Oh, I thought I would—I knew I could beat 'em," Old Tilly said modestly.

Sunset ended the festivities in the grove, and the boys mounted and rode away with the other tired people. Gradually they fell behind.

"Don't—rush—so; I've got to keep up my reputation!" said Old Tilly.
"Besides, I'm tired."

"Me, too."

"Same here. Let's camp out to-night in the woods. Why didn't we stay there and camp in that grove?"

"Well, we might have, but we won't go back," answered Old Tilly. "Come on, let's make for that pretty little brown house. Maybe we can buy our supper there."

But the little brown house was shut up tight. The curtains were all pulled down, and a general air of "not at home" pervaded even the clapboards and the morning-glory vine over the door. Only the neat little barn looked hospitable. Its doors stood open wide. A distant rumble of thunder suddenly sounded, and the sky darkened with ominous swiftness.

"Going to rain," Kent said.

"Sure," added Jot. "Look at those clouds, will you? We'd better get into a hole somewhere."

"We'll go into the barn," decided Old Tilly, after a minute's thought, "and if it rains all night, we'll stay there. We can't do any harm."

It rained all night. Shower after shower burst over them heavily, and there was a continual boom of thunder in their ears. A slight respite at midnight was followed by the most terrific shower of all. The boys huddled together in the hay, with awe-struck faces, but unafraid. They could not sleep in such a magnificent tumult of nature.

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of lightning, then a crash. The whole universe seemed tottering about them. Dizzy and stunned, they gazed at each other, unable to move for an instant. Then it was Jot who sprang up in tremulous haste.

"I smell smoke—we're afire!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," Old Tilly cried, striving to be calm, "it struck this barn."