“What happened, Colonel?” he asked the Frenchman, worriedly.
“I have no idea, mon ami,” responded Marchand. “This is a puzzle, eh?”
“First of all, let’s put up the tops. That rain is already beating the woods on the summit of the hill.”
The two young men hurried to do this, first sheltering Jennie and then together dragging the heavy top over the big car, covering the baggage and passengers. Helen and Ruth could fasten the curtains, and soon the women of the party were snug enough. The drivers, however, had to get into rain garments and begin the work of hunting the trouble with the roadster.
The thunder grew louder and louder. Flashes of lightning streaked across the sky overhead. The electric explosions were soon so frequent and furious that the girls cowered together in real terror. Jennie had slipped out of the small car and crowded in with her chums and Aunt Kate.
“I don’t care!” she wailed, “Henri and Tom are bound to take that car all to pieces to find what has happened.”
But they did not have to go as far as that. In fact, before the rain really began to fall in earnest, Tom made the tragic discovery. There was scarcely a drop of gasoline in the tank of the small machine. Tom hurried back to the big car. He glanced at the dial of the gasoline tank. There was not enough of the fluid to take them a mile! And the emergency tank was turned on!
It was at this point that he stated his opinion of the trustworthiness of garage workmen.