“I’ll fix you later,” he muttered. “Git up, Sal; git up, Ned,” and he cracked his whip and the wagon rumbled on up the hill.
A short survey showed the boys that the damage done to the brake could be repaired with a few turns with the monkey-wrench, one of the bolts having worked loose. The adjustment made, they climbed back into the car, and were soon speeding once more toward Tottenville.
At the factory they found the watchman waiting for them, with several new wheels of the stoutest make.
“You’re in luck,” he said, as the boys paid for the one they selected and gave him something for his trouble besides. “This wheel was made for one of them air-ship bugs that lived in this town. He bruk his neck before it could be delivered, and it’s lain here ever since.”
The boys agreed that however unfortunate it had been for the luckless Tottenville aviator, it was good luck for them, and after thanking the man they started back for Remson at a fast clip.
As they bowled along they passed a ruinous looking hut, in which, late as was the hour, a light was burning.
“That’s funny,” said Frank.
“What’s funny?” inquired Billy.
“Why, to see a light burning in a tumble-down hut like that at such an hour. Folk in the country go to bed early as a rule; and see there, there’s an automobile in front of the house.”
Sure enough, a big touring car, with its lights burning brightly, was drawn up in front of the hut, which lay back at some distance from the road.