“Well, please tell us how to take the right one,” begged Jerry.
“The right one happens to be a left one,” said the man with a laugh. Then he gave them the proper directions, and said they ought to be at Boxwood Hall in about an hour.
“Come on!” cried Ned, as they started away once more. “On with the dance!”
“Speaking of dances, I wonder if they ever have any at the college?” asked Bob, reflectively.
“Sure they do!” exclaimed Ned, who of late had taken up fox-trotting. “Didn’t the catalogue say that all proper facilities were given for the best social life. And what is social life, I’d like to know, without a dance now and then?”
“I guess you’ll get your share of it,” remarked Jerry, his eyes on the road ahead, for it was an unfamiliar one to him, and, though the garage man had said it was a fine, straight highway, Jerry was taking no chances. The powerful electric lights made a fine illumination far ahead.
Now it might have been reasonably expected that Fate, if you choose to call it such, having dealt our heroes one blow, would refrain from giving them another, at least for a while. But it was not to be.
About a half hour after having left the garage they came to an obstruction across the road. It was in the form of a big sawhorse such as is used in cities to block streets when repair work is being done. From the barrier hung a red lantern.
“Hello! What does this mean?” asked Jerry, bringing the car up with a screeching of brakes.