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Updated: June 23, 2025
They encountered one or two Indians on the way, jogging slowly along on their shaggy ponies; but the creatures were mild and inoffensive. The road was fairly good and they made excellent time, so that long before twilight Spotville was reached and the party had taken possession of the one small and primitive "hotel" the place afforded.
By the time they had finished the simple meal Wampus had had his coffee and prepared the automobile for the day's journey. A few minutes later they said good-bye to the aged musician and took the trail that led through Spotville. The day's trip was without event.
There was a little murmur of protest at this, for the house appeared to be scarcely bigger than the automobile. But Uncle John pointed out, sensibly enough, that they ought not to undertake an unknown road at nighttime, and that Spotville, the town for which they were headed, was still a long way off.
"Want meat fer supper?" asked the landlord, a tall, gaunt man who considered himself dressed when he was in his shirt sleeves. "What kind of meat?" inquired Uncle John, cautiously. "Kin give yeh fried pork er jerked beef. Ham 'a all out an' the chickens is beginnin' to lay." "Eggs?" "Of course, stranger. Thet's the on'y thing Spotville chickens lay, nowadays.
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