As I approached the station, I saw several of my fellow-townsmen headed for the north-east. They had a determined, yet pleasantly excited air which interested me, and I went back to make inquiries of the postmaster.
I inclined my head toward the company on the far horizon. I could not incline it much, for it was heavy, being full of books.
“Oh,” said the postmaster. “Them. Over to Porcupine Hill.”
“Porcupine Hill!” I repeated in astonishment. “Where is it?”
“Follow your nose,” he replied, somewhat brusquely, slamming down the window in a way which indicated that the interview was ended.
My pulses throbbed with new joy, for here, at last, was a diversion. I lost no time in following my nose, first taking the precaution to point that useful organ in a bee-line with the disappearing company. Ultimately I joined them, to their surprise if not their pleasure.
“We’re late,” said one of them. “The show’s just beginning.”
I quickened my steps to a run, and was presently brought up with a round turn against a rope stretched across the foot of the hill. Several strange-looking balls were rolling from the crest toward us, and a man with a note-book was registering bets, all of which, however, were in small coin.
“What is it?” I inquired in a loud, clear voice which commanded instant attention.
“Porcupines,” answered a courteous gentleman in blue overalls, a hickory shirt, and one suspender. “Every afternoon at two, when it ain’t raining, they roll down that there hill.”
“You be n’t a detective, be you?” asked an agitated voice at my elbow. It was the postmaster.
“I am not,” I returned, with freezing dignity.
“All right,” continued the postmaster. “Here, bookie, ten to one on Salina Ann. Salina’s a high roller,” he explained, turning to me, “but she ain’t in this race.”
The Porcupines came in at our feet, a huge dark one rolling under the wire three lengths ahead. Dizzy, exhausted, and panting, he sat up straight for a moment, launched a playful quill at the bookmaker, and shambled off around the hillside.
Upon the crest of a distant hill, a single figure sat in monumental silence. It had two points at the top, and I wondered what it might be. At last I concluded that it was a rock.
Throughout the long, sunny afternoon, I watched the interesting pastime with keen enjoyment. Had not my exchequer been so pitifully low, I should have staked a dime or so myself upon Salina Ann. She won three races in succession and finally retired, giddy, but triumphant.