“Except I don’t understand what contraption this is,” and Ned kicked a box that an expressman had just delivered at the Slade homestead in Cresville. “Must be something pretty particular that Bob sent, for he’s marked it ‘Don’t open until I get there.’”
“Something to eat, I’ll wager,” declared Jerry. “He’s getting worse instead of better. Where’d he go, anyhow?”
“Why, we needed that spare part of the carburetor and he said he’d go to town for it.”
“That’s right. Well, it’s time he was back. Oh, here he comes now,” and Jerry pointed down the road, along which a motorcycle was approaching speedily.
“Come on, Chunky. Open it up and pass out the good things!” cried Ned as his stout chum approached, leaving the motorcycle at the side of the garage in front of which Ned and Jerry had been talking.
“Open what up?” demanded Chunky.
“This box of cracker dust, or whatever it is,” and Ned kicked the express package.
“Cracker dust nothing! That’s——”
“Something to eat, of course,” finished Jerry.
“That’s where you get left!” laughed Bob. “Here’s the spare carburetor part. Stick it some place where you won’t forget. I had trouble enough getting it—had to go to four places.”