"Not just yet. We shall take the train south to Santa Fe, and perhaps to Albuquerque. I'll talk to Wampus about that. When we reach a good climate we'll begin the journey overland—and not before."
"Then," said Patsy, "I'm sure we shall have time to fit out Myrtle very nicely."
Mr. Wampus was announced just then, and while Uncle John conferred with the chauffeur his two nieces went to their room to talk over Myrtle Dean's outfit and await the return of the girl from her ride.
"They tell me," said Mr. Merrick, "that you are an experienced chauffeur."
"I am celebrate," replied Wampus. "Not as chauffeur, but as expert automobilist."
He was a little man and quite thin. His legs were short and his arms long. He had expressionless light gray eyes and sandy hair cropped close to his scalp. His mouth was wide and good-humored, his chin long and broad, his ears enormous in size and set at right angles with his head. His cheek bones were as high and prominent as those of an Indian, and after a critical examination of the man Uncle John was impelled to ask his nationality.
"I am born in Canada, at Quebec Province," he answered. "My father he trapper; my mother squaw. For me, I American, sir, and my name celebrate over all the world for knowing automobile like father knows his son." He paused, and added impressively: "I am Wampus!"
"Have you ever driven an 'Autocrat' car?" asked Mr. Merrick.
"'Autocrat?' I can take him apart blindfold, an' put him together again."
"Have you ever been overland to California?"