“THAT a car—an automobile?” asked Bob, holding back his laughter.
“You don’t mean to say that thing will take us fourteen miles!” cried Joe, no less moved than his chum.
The naturalists smiled. They had apparently not expected this.
“It’s about the best we can do here,” confessed Mr. Lewis. “Of course there are better automobiles, but none of them seems to be for hire. You see, this drive-yourself idea doesn’t appear to be very popular here. I suppose it’s because there is so much danger of being attacked by bands of nomads who would think nothing of robbing the occupants and stealing the car. But this car, although not beautiful to look at, has a good motor and good tires, and that’s about all we could expect. Remember, we’re not in America now.”
The object of their remarks was indeed not anything to be especially proud of. A well-known American make, it had undoubtedly been of great service in its time, and was still capable of covering many more miles. It had no top, and nothing to show that one had been present, but the seats were in fair condition, and a well-shined windshield promised to keep away the formidable dust of the desert.
“Well, I suppose we could do much worse,” sighed Joe, taking his place in the back seat.
After a few more remarks with the keeper of the garage, the adventurers started the motor and pulled out into the street, Mr. Lewis at the wheel. The chug of the engine was almost deafening, but, as Bob remarked, they would probably get used to it.
“Ought to be some new springs,” said Joe, with a wink at his chum.
“And there could be new upholstering,” added Bob. “Of course it needs new——”
“All right, boys,” smiled Mr. Holton, cutting off their capricious suggestions. “If you don’t like it, you know what you can do.”