“Didn’t know whether you were lost, strayed or stolen,” called out Tom Rover, gayly. “What happened? Did you get a puncture or just stop to pick buttercups?”
“No. We’ve been dabbling in spirits,” answered his brother, just as gayly.
“And we knocked the spirits out in one round,” added Jack.
Then the story of the accident on the road was narrated, the others listening with keen interest.
“Gee, I wish I’d been there!” declared Andy, wistfully. “I’m never around when anything like that happens!”
“Never around!” cried Fred. “If I know anything about it, you’re generally in the thick of it.”
“I’m glad neither of the men was seriously hurt, even if they are bootleggers,” remarked Mary. “And as for their liquor, it served them right to have it smashed and spilt.”
“I can tell you that one man, the fellow named Bill Ferguson, was certainly mad,” said Jack to his cousins. “He looked as if he wanted to chew us up.”
“You’d better keep your eyes open in case you meet him again,” remarked Randy.