Ashton-Kirk called to one of these. He was a lanky fellow in a
wide-brimmed hat and with a sheep-like look of complacency.
"What's the best way to Dr. Mercer's place?" asked Ashton-Kirk.
The lanky man reflected.
"There's three or four ways of getting there," he stated. "You can go
up the pike and turn at Harbison's store; or you can turn down the
lane along there a piece and go along until you come to--"
"Which is the nearest?"
"I ain't never passed no judgment on that; but I think the clay road
down toward Plattville would get you there the quickest--if you didn't
get stuck in the ruts."
"I think we'd better stick to the pike," suggested Pendleton.
"The pike's the best road," said the lanky man. "All the people from
Mercer's place use it when they drive here to the station."
Once more the big French car, now with its lamps lighted, sped along
the road; about a mile further on they came to the store referred to
by the man as Harbison's. Here they received instructions as to how to
proceed, by the store-keeper; and after running about four miles along
an indifferent wagon road, they caught the twinkle of many lights off
in the middle of a wide clearing.
"That must be it," said the investigator.
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