"I am not. It's for Grit."
"Shades of Uncle Ezra! What would he say if he were here? Canned chicken for a dog! Oh, the sinful waste!"
"That's just what Uncle Ezra would say if he were here," laughed Dick. "And I half wish he was, so I could tell him what I think of him.
"But there! It's best to keep peace in the family if you can. Uncle Ezra is trying to ruin a young man, financially, and I'm trying to save him. It may come out even in the end, and that will be all right. There you are, Grit!" And the bulldog barked in delight as Dick gave him a generous helping of canned chicken.
"That makes me hungry," called Paul, from the steering seat.
"We'll soon be at Plattsville," answered Dick. "Say, you are hitting up the pace, all right!" he exclaimed, as the big car swung around a curve and careened down the straight road.
"This is a good place to make time," answered Paul.
"Don't get caught in one of those speed traps the old constable was telling us about," warned Innis. "I don't want to waste good money on some justice of the peace."
"I'll be careful," promised Paul, and he slowed down a bit.
They found a good restaurant in Plattsville, and so decided they would not get their own supper, as they were rather weary with the day's journey. The big auto was left outside, and to keep the curious crowd that gathered from going inside it, Dick locked the doors. The legal papers were left in plain sight, and while perhaps an older person might not have taken that risk, the boys thought they were doing the best thing.