Their belongings were piled high in the tonneau, and the boys occupied what little space was left. This was not much, but they cared little for that as the big car hummed along over a perfect road, headed for the cabin in the depths of the forest. Mr. Bentley had returned several days before to the headquarters of the forest rangers at Spruce Mountain, and had promised to be on the lookout for them when they arrived.
“Your dad should have gotten us two cars, Bob; one to ride in, and the other for the baggage,” said Jimmy, as a sudden swerve of the car sent him rolling into a hollow between two bags. “I’ll be getting thrown out, first thing you know, and then what will you fellows do away up there in the woods, with nobody to protect and take care of you?”
“There’s gratitude for you!” exclaimed Joe, indignantly. “You’ll get thrown out fast enough, Doughnuts, but we’ll do the throwing, not the car.”
“Bob wouldn’t let you throw me out,” said Jimmy, with calm conviction. “He knows well enough that I’m the brains of this party.”
“Gosh! that’s a terrible knock at the party, then,” remarked Herb.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Jimmy. “Remember, Herb, that almost any brains are better than yours.”
Herb made an indignant lunge at him, but Bob and Joe caught hold of him before he could take vengeance on their rotund friend.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” laughed Bob. “It seems to me there’s a good deal of truth in what Jimmy says, after all, don’t you think so, Joe?”
“There’s no doubt about it,” asserted the doctor’s son. “In fact, I’d be willing to go a step further, and say that brains like Herb’s are a shade worse than nothing at all. Just look at some of the jokes he works off on us.”
“There you are!” crowed Jimmy, triumphantly. “What better evidence could I have against Herb than some of his own jokes? They’d convict him before any jury.”