“Did you get the exact directions?” she asked of Daisy.
“Yes, Flos did. She made a little map and put it all down. Mr. Cryton said that about half a mile of the road was poor, but except for that little stretch, it is even better than the Lincoln Highway.”
The others were all heartily in favor of following the directions, and early the next morning the party started off again. The weather had cleared again and the sun was shining brightly; but on the grass and in the road there was still evidence of the recent rain. Daisy sat beside the driver on the front seat of the larger car, and held the plan open in her hands, for all the scouts were anxious to make no mistake which might end in a delay.
They followed a good macadam street for several miles to the outskirts of the city, then came to their first turning. It proved to be a dirt road—a rather narrow one at that—which sloped gradually down hill.
“This must be the stretch of bad road which the boys mentioned,” remarked Marjorie. “It looks rather doubtful to me.”
“Yes,” returned Daisy, consulting her diagram. “This is the poor part.”
“Had we better risk it?” asked Marjorie.
“Surely!” cried two or three of the others.
“Nobody can say that Girl Scouts are poor sports!” added Florence, from the rear seat.
Accordingly, Marjorie turned into it, and threw on the gas. The road, which would have been uninviting in dry weather, appeared as they advanced to be almost a sea of mud after the recent rains. But the brave driver went resolutely ahead.