“Who said pie?” demanded a voice at the end of the car.
“That bunch up in the middle,” answered another, indicating the motor boys.
“Is there any chance for a feed?” came a veritable howl from some hungry lad. “Tell me, oh, tell me, I implore!”
“Next stop,” answered Jerry. “That is,” and he turned to the sergeant in charge, “unless you have some rations concealed somewhere about your person,” and he laughed.
“Not a ration,” was the answer. “I suppose there ought to have been some arrangement made for feeding you boys on the way, but there is such a rush that it has been overlooked. However, if you are short of change——”
“Oh, we’ve got the money! All we want is time to eat!” came the cry.
“I’ll see to that, then,” said Sergeant Mandell. “If necessary I’ll have the conductor hold the train for a minute or two, until you can raid the lunch counter. But mind! everything must be paid for, as I am responsible.”
Ned, Bob, and Jerry, by common consent, were detailed into a foraging party on behalf of some of their comrades and a common fund was made up with which to purchase what food could be found. Then the boys eagerly waited for the train to arrive at the station where there was a lunch counter.
And such a rush as there was when the place was announced! The three motor boys, as treasurers, were accompanied to the counter by a mob of the boys who for themselves or for companions had orders for everything in sight.