Turning a bend in the road that brought the camp into view, Mr. Hollis, as he witnessed the excited gestures of the boys, and heard the volume of sound caused by every enthusiast trying to talk at once, instinctively quickened his pace, for it almost seemed as though a serious altercation were in progress; but as he came near enough to distinguish words and heard—“Six cylinders,” “Forty-eight horsepower,” “Chrome nickel steel,” “Wheel base one hundred and twelve inches,” “Diamond tires,” “Autometer,” “Safety treads,” “Grip treads”—he realized that nothing more serious was going on than a discussion of the relative merits of automobiles and their fittings. No wonder there was gesturing and loud talking. What boy would not rise to the topmost heights of enthusiasm at the thought of an automobile in which he was to have a personal interest? Such a delight had come to the camp, and since the announcement in the morning that on account of the long trips that the summer’s plans would make necessary, the boys would be allowed an automobile for their own exclusive use, nothing else had been thought or talked about; and each eager boy was impatiently awaiting the return of Mr. Hollis to learn the make and all other details of that most wonderful car.
Now, as he came into camp, the boys crowded around him and the wood rang with cheers as he told them that the car would arrive the following morning. A volley of questions overwhelmed him: “How large is it?” “What speed?” “What color is it?” “How many of us can ride in it at a time?” Question followed question in quick succession, until Mr. Hollis put his hands over his ears, and, refusing to answer any more, proposed dinner as a means of quelling the noise.
The boys could scarcely have told of what their dinner consisted that night, so great was their excitement. All were glad to turn in early as the surest way to bring the morning and the longed-for car. A full hour earlier than usual the lights were out and silence settled over the camp, broken only by nature’s mysterious night sounds. A belated rabbit homeward bound, keeping ceaseless vigil with round bright eyes, encouraged by the unusual quiet, crept close to the door of the mess tent, and snatching a stray cracker from the grass, scurried joyfully away. At the distant menacing “Tu-whit, tu-whoo” of the night owl, the birds stirred uneasily and nestled closer under cover of the sheltering leaves. The quiet hours crept on till at last morning dawned and gave promise of a glorious day.
Frank Edgewood was the first to open sleepy eyes, and seeing a few clouds not yet dissipated by the early sun, woke the camp with the dismal wail: “Fellows, it’s going to rain.”
“Put him out,” “Smother him,” “Duck him in the brook,” came in a chorus; and Frank, taking to his heels, dropped the flap of his tent, with not a moment to spare.
“Run early and avoid the rush,” sang out Tom Henderson.
“To pass he had such scanty room,
The descending grazed his plume,”
chanted Dick Trent.
“Let’s forgive and forget,” said Ben Cooper.
“Be glad we let you live, Frank,” Bob Ward chimed in; and so the culprit, reassured, ventured out to breakfast.