"He aimed at the dog and hit a goose," added Innis.
"Lucky it was no worse," said Dick. "I sure thought I was in bad by the way she yelled about 'Heinie.'"
"You don't yet quite appreciate how easily the car steers, I guess," suggested the chauffeur.
"Try it some more."
They went on a little more slowly, and had no more accidents. Dick soon became familiar with the mechanism, and rapidly acquired confidence in himself. Then Paul and Innis took turns, under the watchful eye and ready hands of the chauffeur.
They stopped for dinner at a wayside hotel, and then drove back to New York, Dick arranging to have the car kept in a nearby garage. The next day he went out again, on a longer run, taking Grit with him. The bulldog seemed to take kindly to the new car, and made himself at home in it. The chauffeur had it easier now, for Dick felt confident enough to do all the operating himself.
"We ought to stock up and live in it one night," suggested Paul, the third day.
"Time enough for that," replied the delighted owner of the Last Word. "I'm going to drive it to Hamilton Corners in a few days."
"You are?"
"Sure. That won't be much of a run, compared with our trip across the continent."