“Thanks dad!” was all Bob could say, but the two words meant a good deal.
At the same time, according to arrangement between Mr. Baker and Mr. Slade, the latter was announcing to his son Ned, that he could have the much-wanted machine. If there were two happier boys than Ned and Bob in Cresville that night, no one knew where to find them.
“We’ll have lots of sport,” said Bob. “I know of a dozen trips we can take, that would be too long for a bicycle.”
Three days later the two motor-cycles came, and the chums could hardly wait to unpack them. Bob’s and Ned’s machines were just like Jerry’s except in a few minor points.
Jerry was delighted that his chums’ machines had arrived. He got his own out and soon all three were speeding down the road. In point of fastness there was not much to choose from among the three motors. None of the boys had risked running the cycles at top speed yet, and at the half-way mark each one developed about the same swiftness.
The boys rode for several miles. It was a pleasant day, with a bright sun overhead, while an early morning shower had laid the dust. After an hour’s travel Bob said:
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m hungry.”
In a few minutes they stopped their motor-cycles in front of a big white farm house, and walked up the path to the side door.
On the porch they found a motherly looking woman churning. She smiled at the sight of the three boys, and took off her apron, which was splashed with butter-milk, as she came forward to greet them.
“Good-afternoon,” she said pleasantly.