"To San Francisco!"
"You don't tell me! That is a tour, all right. My car looks small alongside yours, though my machine is considered a pretty good one."
It was a good one, Dick and his chums could see, and the small break could easily be repaired. After making sure that the disabled car was well out of the way of traffic, and leaving a written notice on it to show to whom it belonged, Dick, his chums, and Mr. Brockhurst entered the Last Word, with the first named at the wheel, and once more they were under way.
Mr. Brockhurst proved an agreeable companion. He had traveled much, and could talk well of the places he had visited, telling a number of funny stories that kept the cadets laughing.
On reaching the garage the man in charge, promised to send out and get the car.
"But as for renting you one, I can't do it," he said to Mr. Brockhurst. "There isn't a one in the place, except Colonel Carter's, and he'd have my head off if I loaned that, though he only drives it about once a week."
"I wonder if I couldn't see him and make some deal with him?" asked the lame man. "It's important that I get to Hazelton this morning."
"Say!" interrupted Dick. "What's the use of going to all that bother. I'll be glad to run you down. It's only ten miles out of our way, and we are ahead of our schedule. Anyhow, a day or so doesn't matter to us. Come on, Mr. Brockhurst."
"Oh, I don't want to put you out——"