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There are two animals (brothers? friends?) who make a bet, I think, to see which reaches some predetermined destination first. One of them goes to work in order to earn enough money to take the train there, while the other decides to get there on foot. The one who goes on foot ends up getting a far richer experience than the one who spends most of his time working.

It might have been inspired by this passage in Thoreau's Walden:

One says to me, "I wonder that you do not lay up money; you love to travel; you might take the cars and go to Fitchburg to-day and see the country." But I am wiser than that. I have learned that the swiftest traveller is he that goes afoot. I say to my friend, Suppose we try who will get there first. The distance is thirty miles; the fare ninety cents. That is almost a day's wages. ... Well, I start now on foot, and get there before night; I have travelled at that rate by the week together. You will in the mean while have earned your fare, and arrive there some time tomorrow, or possibly this evening, if you are lucky enough to get a job in season. Instead of going to Fitchburg, you will be working here the greater part of the day. And so, if the railroad reached round the world, I think that I should keep ahead of you; and as for seeing the country and getting experience of that kind, I should have cut your acquaintance altogether.

I've found it, you guys. It's Henry Hikes to Fitchburg, by D.B. Johnson.