“It’s lucky we weren’t all murdered in our sleep,” exclaimed Bob, with a nervous look around.
“Oh, hardly as bad as that, I think,” came from Jerry. “However, Mr. Buttle has had his lesson, and I think he won’t sneak around us again. He must have unlocked the professor’s door with a duplicate key, and when he pushed the chair across the floor that woke me up.”
Jerry’s explanation was accepted, and they went back to bed, but it was some time before they got to sleep. When Jerry awoke again it was just getting light, and as he was as anxious as was Ned to be on the road again, he roused his companions. Professor Snodgrass was already up, making a careful inspection of his specimen boxes by daylight, to see if any of the bugs had escaped. He found them all intact.
“What shall we do; take chances on having breakfast with Mr. Buttle?” asked Ned, as they were ready to go down stairs.
“I vote that we pay him what we owe him, and go on to the next town for breakfast,” spoke Ned. “We can put the tire on, and make good time. It’s stopped raining.”
“Well, I’m pretty hungry,” remarked Bob with a woebegone face, “and it’s no fun putting on a tire without your breakfast, but I wouldn’t want him to poison us, and he might do it to get even.”
“Then we’ll start off and hunt our own breakfast,” decided Jerry. When they went downstairs they found no signs of their host. Evidently he did not care to meet them face to face in daylight. So, after leaving where he would see it a sum of money sufficient to pay for their supper and the night’s lodging, and also to repair the broken door, our friends departed. Jerry left a note, stating what the money was for.
They found their auto undisturbed, and soon had the tire repaired. They kept a lookout for the farmer, whom they believed to be a rascal, but saw no signs of him, and made good time to the next town, where they got a good breakfast at the hotel. There, having mentioned the fact that they had spent the night with Mr. Buttle, they were told that they had taken a big chance.
“That fellow’s a regular hold-up man,” said the hotel clerk. “He makes a practice of swindling autoists. It’s been said that he puts tacks and glass in the road, so they’ll get damaged tires right in front of his place, and then when they halt to make repairs, he comes out and offers to sell food at about three times the market prices. That’s the way he makes his living, instead of farming it. He ‘grafts’ on the autoists.”
“Well, he’ll be careful how he tackles this party another time,” remarked Jerry significantly.