“Don’t you mean to stop?” gasped Ruth.
“Not here, I tell you,” snapped the exasperated youth. “You want us to get stalled here out of sight of a house, even?”
“We won’t be in sight of many houses when we get to the top of the hill, if I remember rightly,” murmured Agnes.
Neale made no further reply. The thing continued to thump and the engine to roar. But they reached the top of the hill and continued staggering along toward the farm buildings, which looked as deserted as they had on the previous occasion when the party had stopped here.
“How near are we to a repair garage?” asked Mrs. Heard.
“About twenty miles,” Agnes told her. “Sweet prospect, isn’t it?”
“But what is the matter?” repeated Ruth.
“If you ask me,” said Agnes, with conviction, “I think the old thing has the epizootic.”
“Oh, my!” gasped Dot. “That’s what the stableman’s horse had—and it died. Could our automobile have the same sickness?”
“I don’t know; but it acts as if it were going to die,” growled Neale.