Philip finished the particular detail he was on with only the laconic remark, “Chicken sense,” and then started an investigation of the tank, with Campbell as an interested spectator and assistant. “You’re right. He needed almost all of it. But I think that there is enough, with that little can that Mother always insists we take along, to get us where we can fill up again. Mother, here is where your forethought gets the applause.”
Mrs. Van Buskirk smiled and placidly read on.
Finally the work was done. Philip and Campbell gave the whistles of their college fraternity, to call the wandering girls, and the party once more were off. The car ran easily, and the gasoline lasted until they reached the first town, which, fortunately, happened to be of a fair size, and Philip thought that he could find another tire there to replace the stolen one. But just as they turned into the street where they had been told the shop they were seeking was located, they saw a small crowd gathered about a machine a short distance ahead.
“It’s our man!” exclaimed Philip, and he brought up his car to the curb not far from the source of excitement. He and Campbell lost no time in arriving on the scene, while the girls and Mrs. Van Buskirk watched with interest.
“They’re taking him out of the car!” said Betty.
“Yes; see those two policemen?”
“I suppose that is the sheriff.”
“Philip’s talking to him. I wonder if we’ll have to wait for a trial or anything.”
“Mercy, no. At least, I hope not.”
“Look, there is a nice looking gentleman there—I wonder who he is.”