The road was fairly level, but here and there were some nasty holes, and we had to be careful for fear of getting into more difficulty.
"Hurrah! a house!" shouted Oliver, ten minutes later, and pointed out a substantial structure of wood standing in the center of a well-kept garden plot. Back of the house we made out half a dozen barns and other outbuildings.
"Well?" queried Dan, and each of us looked at the others. We had had so many upsettings that we hardly knew whether or not it would be safe to ride up to the abode.
"Oh, pshaw! I'm going," cried Oliver. "Come on," and he rode through an open gateway, and Dan and I came behind him. We had not yet reached the horseblock beside the veranda when the front door of the house opened and a sweet-looking girl of fifteen or sixteen stepped out to greet us.
"Back again!" she cried, and then started back. "Oh, dear, I thought it was papa and his friends!"
"We have missed our way," answered Oliver politely, as he tipped his soaked head-covering. "Can you give us shelter until the worst of this storm is over?"
"To be sure," answered the girl. "Ride right down to that barn, and Martin can take charge of your horses. Then come in here."
