Back they climbed into their places, and with a rasp of changing gears they were on their way once more.
Braxton Woods lay something over a hundred miles from Clintonia, but the roads were good most of the way, and they had planned to reach their destination that evening. When they had covered sixty miles of the distance, Mr. Fennington consented to stop for the lunch for which the boys had been clamoring for some time. They took their time over the meal, building a fire and cooking steak and frying potatoes.
“Gee, this was a feast fit for a king!” exclaimed Jimmy, when it was over.
The boys lay down on the newly sprouted grass, but had hardly got settled when the driver, who appeared restless, summoned them to proceed.
“We’ve got a long way to go yet,” he said, “and the last fifteen miles are worse than all the rest of the trip put together. The road is mostly clay and rocks, and at this time of year it’s apt to be pretty wet. I don’t want to have to drive it after dark.”
Mr. Fennington was also anxious to get on, so their rest was a brief one, and they were soon on their way again.
The radio boys laughed and sang, cracked jokes, and waved to passing cars, while the mileage record on the speedometer mounted steadily up. The sun was still quite a way above the western horizon when they reached the place where the forest road branched off from the main highway. The driver tackled this road cautiously, and they soon found that his description of it had not been overdrawn. It was a narrow trail, in most places not wide enough for two cars to pass, and they wondered what would happen should they meet another car going in the opposite direction. But in the whole fifteen miles they met only one other motor, and fortunately that was at a wide place in the road.
The scent of spring and growing things was strong in the air, and compensated somewhat for the atrocious road. The boys were often tossed high in the air as the car bumped over logs and stones, or came up with a lurch out of some deep hole. But they hung on to each other, or whatever else was most convenient, and little minded the rough going.
After one particularly vicious lunge, however, the heavy car came down with a slam, and there was a sharp noise of snapping steel. With a muttered exclamation the driver brought his car to a halt and climbed out.
“Just as I thought!” he exclaimed. “A spring busted, and the nearest garage twenty miles away. Now we’re up against it for fair!”