"Well, it was pretty good; wasn't it?" remarked Dick, as he linked his arms in those of his chums.
"Not half bad—for a change," assented Innis. "What's the game for to-morrow?"
"Oh, we'll have to hang over here, I guess. But I understand there's a baseball game between two country nines and we can take that in. It will be sport."
"That's the cheese!" exclaimed Paul.
They were in the midst of the crowd that had thronged from the moving picture show. A number of pretty girls were bunched together, and from their midst came voices that could be heard to remark about the identity of our heroes, as the youths were spoken of as "the millionaire autoists."
"We're getting a reputation already," whispered Innis.
"That's Dick's fault," said Paul.
"I haven't said a word," retorted that youth. "You fellows must have been talking."
Gradually the crowd thinned out, and the three chums found themselves walking along a rather dark country road toward the garage where the Last Word had been left.
For a while they talked among themselves of the adventures of the day, and then a silence settled down. They were all tired and anxious to get to bed.