They passed well out of Bangor and were going along a country road, just as the sun was setting, when a chugging automobile was heard back of them. Soon a ramshackle old flivver drew up near them, driven by a young farmer lad.
He sized up the boys, then stopped his machine and asked:
“Going far?”
“On to Colter,” answered Garry.
“Gosh, that’s a pretty good spell to walk,” answered the farmer boy. “I’m going on about four miles more; would you like a lift for that distance?”
“You bet we would,” broke in Dick.
This brought a laugh from the others, and they accepted the lift, for it meant saving almost an hour on their way.
They piled into the old flivver, and soon were rolling speedily along the road. Despite its aged and decrepit appearance the car made excellent time, and the boys commented on this.
“Yep, she’s a pretty good old boat,” answered the boy. “I don’t have much time to tinker with the looks of the thing on the outside, but I manage to keep the engine in pretty good condition. You can’t keep a farm car looking up to time every minute. Well, I turn in here in a minute, so I guess this is as far as you can ride, unless another car comes along. Will you come in and have a bite to eat?”
The chums thanked him cordially but refused his invitation, saying that they would cook their own meal an hour or so later.