“Only,” Tess observed, “I don’t feel just right because I haven’t been all undressed. Don’t you s’pose, Ruthie, that we could take turns having a bath in the horse-trough?”
The others laughed at her; and it was agreed that it was not going to be much of a cross, after all, to remain on the abandoned farm for the few days it would be necessary to wait for the new part for the automobile.
Neale O’Neil was two hours in getting to Hickton, for it was a long seven miles and the roads were sandy. And along the way he did not pass a dozen houses, and none of them was very near to the Higgins farm. Still, it was not later than eight o’clock when he sent the telegram to the automobile factory, which was not very far away; and he ordered the new casting sent C. O. D. to the Hickton station.
Then he telegraphed to Mr. Collinger, at Milton, in Mrs. Heard’s name. The surveyor’s aunt had written her message carefully, so that the ordinary reader would not understand just where the stolen car was. Mr. Collinger was to come to Hickton and there inquire for the party of motor car tourists.
There were two stores in sight of the railway station, and in them Neale managed to buy enough food to last his party several days, including eggs and milk and country butter and cheese.
Neale could never have carried all these things back to the farm, but he found a long-legged boy with a rattling wagon drawn by a pony, and bargained with the youth for transportation to the Higgins farm. When the boy learned that a touring party was camped at the site of the burned farmhouse, he was greatly amused.
“Guess old man Higgins don’t know about it, does he?” the lad asked.
“I don’t suppose he does,” admitted Neale. “But we are not doing any harm there.”
“He, he! I reckon yer critters won’t eat up his hay, that’s sure.”
“No. Our motive power feeds on gasoline,” Neale laughed.