“Why not?” echoed her disciple, Nancy. “We’ve got the alcohol stove with two burners and Elinor’s tea basket and some china besides.”
“That’s a very sensible idea,” said Miss Campbell, her spirits rising at the suggestion. “I feel, if I could get something tasteful to eat, I might be able to support existence across the plains and the mountains and through the forests, but just at present, I—well, I assure you, I am quite empty.”
“We have some things, remember,” put in Mary. “Mr. Donahue’s box had bacon in it and lots of jam and potted cheese——”
“I think some fresh eggs would be acceptable,” observed Miss Campbell.
Billie turned the Comet in at a patent gate which could be operated from the vehicle. Giving a rope which dangled from the horizontal pole a jerk the gate swung back on its groove. They rolled onto a macadamized driveway leading up to the farm buildings.
“One farm’s as good as another,” announced Billie, as she gave the rope on the other side of the gate a vigorous pull. But something had got twisted and it refused to return to its natural position. Billie and Nancy jumped out and tried to push the gate, but their united efforts were unavailing. They swung on the rope together, when suddenly, snap, it broke and they both tumbled backward in a laughing heap. They were still giggling and brushing the dust from their clothes when a strange looking vehicle came into the avenue and stopped beside them. It seemed to be composed chiefly of a seat, two rubber tired wheels and a shaft with no place particularly to rest the feet. Hitched to this peculiar conveyance was a beautiful high-stepping thoroughbred horse, and on the rather precarious seat very near to the horse’s tail sat a sunburned young farmer dressed in a brown corduroy suit and leather leggings. He had a ruddy face, humorous blue eyes and close-cropped hair.
“Anything I can do for you, ladies?” he asked, holding the prancing horse with a tight rein.
“I—I’m afraid we have broken your gate,” answered Billie. “We are sorry, but you see we aren’t used to gates like this, and I think it went back too suddenly.”
The young man smiled good naturedly.
“It’s only slipped its trolley,” he said. “If one of you could hold Pocohontas for me, I’ll fix it in a second.”