They would not go by the way of the Red Mill, for that would take them out of the way they had chosen. The inn they had in mind to stop at on this first night was a long four hours’ ride.
“Eastward, Ho!” shouted Tom. “This is to be a voyage of discovery, but don’t discover any punctures or blow-outs this evening.”
Then he glanced at Ruth’s rather serious face beside him and muttered to himself:
“And we want to discover principally the smile that Ruth Fielding seems to have permanently lost!”
CHAPTER VI
“THE NEVERGETOVERS”
After crossing the Cheslow Hills and the Lumano by the Long Bridge about twenty miles below the Red Mill, the touring party debouched upon one of the very best State roads. They left much of the dust from which they had first suffered behind them, and Tom could now lead the way with the big car without smothering the occupants of the honeymoon car in the rear.
The highway wound along a pretty ridge for some miles, with farms dotting the landscape and lush meadows or fruit-growing farms dipping to the edge of the distant river.