The man with the disabled car was so busily engaged that he did not notice the approach of the four chums until they reached the spot. Apparently he was about ready to give it up as a bad job, for he scratched his head helplessly, and had a look of utter chagrin on his face as he turned toward them.
Thad had previously asked Giraffe to conduct the negotiations, using his best German to produce results.
The man was apparently some small tradesman in one of the towns so thickly scattered about that region. He stared hard at the boys, understanding immediately that they had a foreign look. Still the Rhine country attracted many thousands of pilgrims each year, and myriads of honest people helped out their living by what the tourists left behind them; so he must have been used to seeing strangers.
Perhaps the news that had reached his ears concerning the breaking out of war may have been the cause of his puzzled look.
While Giraffe engaged him in conversation, the others took a look at the engine of the car. Both Thad and Allan had a fair smattering of mechanical knowledge, and it did not take them long to size the situation up, as the latter termed it.
“An old rattlebox, sure enough, Thad,” observed Allan, knowing that the owner could not very well understand what he was saying.
“I’ve seen a few worse machines, but I believe I could count them on the fingers of one hand,” the patrol leader admitted.
“It’s easy to see what the matter is, though the man doesn’t seem to know,” was what Allan remarked next.
“Yes, and so far as that goes it can be remedied without a great amount of time and trouble,” continued Thad.
“Would it pay us to make an offer for the discard?” asked Bumpus, anxious to have a little say in the matter.