“No—don’t—Oh, ho! Sit still—Oh, me! Oh my! Wait until I get my breath—Oh dear!” and Ned with one hand on the steersman’s shoulder held his own side with the other to help repress his mirth.
“Well of all the——” began Bob, half in anger.
“No wonder he couldn’t crank it!” cried Ned. “You haven’t got the switch on, Jerry. There’s no current—Oh dear! and to think that Bob was breaking his back and never getting a spark——”
“Was that the trouble?” cried Jerry.
“It sure was,” replied Ned, and, stepping on the footboard he reached to the dash, and snapped on the switch which connected the batteries with the spark plug in the cylinder heads. “Now try it, Bob!” he called.
“Not much!” exclaimed the fat lad, with great determination. “I’m done—finished! If you fellows don’t know enough to throw on the switch after all these years of running a car, and then expect to sit there and grin your heads off while I break my back cranking, you’re mighty much mistaken—that’s all I’ve got to say. You may think it’s a joke, but I don’t! I’m through with you,” and turning on his heel, after flashing a look at his two chums, Bob Baker started off down the road afoot.
“Here, where are you going?” called Jerry, after him.
“Home!” was the short answer, “and I’m not going out with you fellows again in a hurry!”
Ned and Jerry looked at one another. It was the first time in a long while that there had been any serious difference among the three chums.
“Oh, come on back!” urged Ned, for he saw that Bob was very much in earnest. “Come on back.”