"Where's the automobile?" asked the boy, with a look at his father.
"I was just joking," said Mr. Bobbsey. "The roads here are too rough
for autos. Lumber wagons are about all that can get through."
"Are we going in that wagon?" Nan demanded.
Before her father could answer the man driving the big horses called
to them to stop, and when they did he spoke to Mr. Bobbsey.
"Are you the folks I'm expected to take out to the Watson timber
tract?" the driver asked,
"Well, we are the Bobbseys," said Bert's father.
"Then you're the folks I want!" was the good-natured answer. "Just
pile in and make yourselves comfortable. I'll get your baggage in."
"I'd better help you," said Mr. Bobbsey. "There's quite a lot of it."
"Oh, we're going to have a ride!" cried Freddie as he ran over to the
lumber wagon, followed by Flossie, "This is better than an
automobile."
"Well, it's more sure, over the roads we've got to travel," said the
driver, who was carrying two valises while Mr. Bobbsey took two more
to put in the wagon.
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