“Oh, well, there’s no getting ahead of you, Andy,” conceded Jerry. “Stay in, if you like. Only don’t blame us if your dad wants to know why his message wasn’t delivered.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Ned. “Let her go, Jerry. It’s hot sitting here in the sun.”
There was a whine and a whirr, as the electric starter spun the flywheel of the big automobile. Then came a snap, as the gears meshed, and as the clutch slipped into place the machine slowly backed to a clear place. Then, as Jerry threw in the first forward speed, it shot ahead, and, a little later was spinning down a pleasant, shaded country road.
“This is something like,” observed Bob, leaning back in comfort. “Want to go anywhere special, Jerry?”
“No, I’ll go anywhere you fellows say.”
“Let’s have a race!” burst out Andy Rush. “There goes a car! You can easy pass that, Jerry! Speed her up! Let’s race ’em! Look, they’re laughing at us! Go ahead! Whoop!”
The tall steersman made no effort to increase the speed of the car. Instead he smiled down at the excited lad beside him, and remarked:
“It’s too hot to do all that talking, Andy. Save it for the winter season when you’ll need it. We’ll have no race to-day.”
If the small chap was disappointed he did not show it. For something new claimed his attention. A big gray squirrel scurried across the street in front of the car.