“I suppose we’d better try the Imperial,” suggested Ned. “It don’t look very scrumptious, but you can’t always tell by the appearance of a toad how far he can jump.”
The auto drew up in front of the inn with a noise that brought a score of men from the barroom.
“Jumpin’ Gila Monsters and rattlesnakes!” cried one of the men, evidently a miner from his dress. “I’ve read about them Satan go-carts, but I never believed in ’em. Sakes alive, but they do look funny without a hoss in front.”
He and the others gathered about the car, asking so many questions that it took all the boys and the professor as well to answer them. When curiosity had been partially satisfied the boys went into the hotel. While there was nothing to make a weary traveler glad he had found it, the place was not as bad as many where the Motor Boys had stopped. They had a good meal, and decided to rest a few hours before proceeding.
It was along about three o’clock. The crowd of men in the barroom had become larger as new comers arrived. It was also noisier and loud voices, and occasional threats to shoot, made the travelers think it was about time to move on.
They were about to go to their machine when they were approached on the porch where they were sitting, by the miner who had first remarked about the auto. He had evidently been drinking more than was good for him, and was in a quarrelsome mood.
“If you don’t want to play with me you needn’t,” he called, evidently to some one inside. “I can find some one to shuffle the cards with me. Here, you kid”—to Jerry, “you come an’ we’ll have a little game.”
“Thank you, I don’t play,” said Jerry quietly.
“What’s that?” came the sharp return.