"That's all right. I only hope you get to Lakeport in time. We are late. That front tire doesn't hold the wind very well."
By this time Fred was also mounted, and side by side he and Joe made off down the road which led to Lakeport. The other boys, with their passengers, came on more slowly and were soon lost to sight behind a bend.
"This is what I call falling in with fortune!" cried Fred.
"That's true, Fred. But you must remember that we have a long and hard ride before us. We've got to go over Misson Hill."
But little more was said, for each of the boys wanted to save his breath. Each could ride well, which was in their favor. Along the road they spurted, avoiding the deepest of the ruts and the big stones. They often "took chances," but felt that, under the circumstances, this was necessary.
Inside of an hour they reached a farmhouse situated directly on the road. They knew the farmer well and, dismounting, asked if they could have a bite to eat.
"We are in a great hurry," said Joe. "But we must have something, as we haven't had anything since yesterday."
The farmer's wife gave them some bread and cold meat, and also some doughnuts and milk. She did not wish any pay, so they made her little girl happy by giving her a twenty-five cent piece.
"Now for home!" cried Joe, as he swung up on the saddle once more. "That lunch makes me feel as fresh as when we started."
"I'd like it better if my saddle was a little lower," said Fred. "But I'm not going to bother with altering it now."