“Why,” said Bumpus, who was vastly relieved by this sudden change for the better in their fortunes, “as for me, I’d be willing to be looked on as demented if only it carried the day for my plans. We’re across the line, Thad, wouldn’t you say?”
“No doubt about that, Bumpus.”
“And this is really Belgium we’re running over?” continued the delighted stout scout.
“Yes, really and truly,” Giraffe told him; “but it looks as like Holland as two peas in a pod. If it wasn’t for the Dutch guard, and the white border post, none of us would ever know we’d changed countries.”
After that they continued to forge ahead at a fair pace as the balance of the afternoon slipped away. Once the engine chose to balk, which necessitated an overhauling on the part of Thad and Allan. Happily the trouble was again located and rectified, so that they did not lose a great deal of time.
“There’s one thing sure, Thad,” said Giraffe, who had been prowling around while the repair work was going on, looking into a number of things; “we couldn’t think of going much more than another hour.”
“Gas tank getting low, is it?” asked the other, who had seen Giraffe meddling in that quarter, and could make a good guess as to what discoveries he had run upon.
“Just what it is,” replied Giraffe; “about enough juice to do us till we want to stop for the night. We must manage to buy ten gallons or so in the morning, no matter what they ask for their old petrol, as they call it over here.”
“There, you see how obliging a car we’ve happened on,” said Bumpus. “It holds out till we get ready to stop over, and then asks for a fresh supply. I think this must be a French make of car, it’s so very polite.”
“Yes, just so,” said Giraffe; “do you know, I’ve been suspecting for some time it was swearing in French every time it groaned and grunted when Thad was driving the engine so hard.”