ning on the top rail of the fence this morning. Why didn't you turn around?"
"Couldn't stop long enough," I said;—"and if I could, it wasn't wide enough to turn on."
"Same here," said Bob. "This road has a hill on each side,—one goes up and the other goes down,—and we don't want to do either."
Well, we went more than a mile farther before we found a place where we could turn around, and that brought us into a small town. Bob said that we could get out and go back on the train if we wanted to—if there should happen to be a train;—but we were all game and decided to stick to him and take our chances. So we turned around and started back. The thunder and lightning were about over; but it was raining in sheets, and as soon as we turned, it drove straight into the carriage so that Uncle Rob came back onto the back seat with Bess and me. Bob would have come back, too, only the lines weren't long enough to reach, and as he had forgotten to put in the apron, he stood for a good soaking.
And then that rambunctous storm saw that we were giving it the slip, and it stopped for a moment, and then came back after us, full tilt! Gee,
