"That's easy," said the constable. "As soon as any one is rash enough t' bust our pole, Hank jest telefoams to his brother, who lives down the road a piece. His brother runs out and drops a lot of boards, with sharp nails in 'em, in th' dust. An auto ain't goin' fur after it runs over a few sharp pointed nails. No, sir-ee!"
"You 'nail' 'em; is that it?" asked Innis.
"That's what we do. We nail 'em! Ha! Ha! I never thought of that. It's another joke, by ginger!"
"It must be pretty expensive, keeping two telephones working," suggested Paul.
"Oh, the county pays for it," said the constable. "Anyhow, if they didn't, we could clear enough on fines to do it. Squire Bradley could raise the rate a leetle."
"I suppose so," agreed Innis, "Well, we'll be getting on, I guess," he added, as Dick came out of the garage after paying for the gasoline.
"An' don't try any speedin'," cautioned the representative of the law.
"We won't!" promised Dick.
Their trip up to noon was uneventful. They were in a section where good roads abounded, and a local automobile club had posted the route so they did not have to stop to ask their directions. They went to a local country hotel for dinner, as the place was well advertised as giving a good chicken and mushroom dinner, and this was a menu that the boys did not care to undertake on their small electric stove.