“I’m sure of it,” declared Ned, who took great pride in the Comet. “But I can’t get over the queer tools those fellows carried.”
“Me neither,” went on Jerry. “It looked to be a lot of useless weight.”
This gave a new turn to the conversation, and one thing led to another, so that almost before our friends realized it they were near Cresville.
As they approached a turn in the road, they heard behind them frantic tooting of an auto horn, and the loud throbbing of a cut-out muffler.
“Some one’s in a hurry,” observed Jerry, steering over to one side.
“Maybe it’s a doctor on an emergency case,” suggested Bob.
“Doctor nothing!” retorted Ned, after a look to the rear. “It’s Noddy Nixon, and he’s coming on at a terrific clip. Look out Jerry! He’ll do something spiteful just for fun. Keep over.”
“I’m over as far as I dare go,” replied the tall lad. “I don’t want to slide into the ditch,” for the road at this point was bordered by deep marshy gutters on either side. It had rained that morning, and the hollows of the road were filled with muddy water.
On came Noddy, his horn wildly tooting, and his cut-out muffler thundering like a battery of small guns. His machine was increasing its speed every moment.
“He’d better look out on the turn,” said Jerry to his chums, as he slowed up.