"We're away down on Stoss Pond brook," said Willis. "We've come
wrong! If you both think you know more than I, keep on; I'm going
in this other direction," and Willis set off to run again. John and
I followed him. In the course of five minutes we came suddenly out
into cleared land.

"There! What did I tell you?" cried Willis. "This is Wilbur's
pasture. We're almost home now."

John and I were too much gratified to question Willis's superior
wisdom and followed after him, intent only on getting home to
dinner. The storm was now driving thick and fast. We could not see
a hundred yards ahead, but we seemed to be on level ground, such as
I had never seen in Neighbor Wilbur's pasture. Soon we came to
another large brook.

"There's no brook in Wilbur's pasture!" exclaimed John, stopping
short.

"I don't care!" cried Willis. "This must be Wilbur's pasture!" He
crossed the brook.

"Of course it is!" he shouted back to us, "for there's Wilbur's
barn--right ahead of us!"

We hastened after Willis, plodding through dry, snowy grass, and
came to a barn about which the storm eddied in snowy gusts.

"But where's Wilbur's house?" asked John.