“I’ll tell the world it does,” Rex said hitting Jack a resounding whack on the back.
“My natural modesty, of course, prevents me from taking part in the conversation at this point,” Jack said soberly.
Rex had insisted on taking the boys up to his Philadelphia home for supper and afterward to the theatre so it was after twelve o’clock when they got back. They were to leave early so they lost no time in getting to bed after setting the alarm clock for four o’clock.
CHAPTER II
GOING HOME.
Day was just breaking when the two boys sprang into the saddles of their motorcycles and with a farewell wave of the hand toward “Old Main” headed for Philadelphia. Noiselessly they turned into the pike, for the wheels, equipped with electric motors in place of the usual noisy gas engine, gave forth no sound as they sped through the morning mist.
“There’ll be no traffic for three hours and we ought to make a hundred miles in that time,” Bob had said just before they started.
They did better for it was but a few minutes after six o’clock when they drove on to the ferry boat at Dykeman Street a hundred and fifteen miles from their starting point.
“At this rate we’ll be home easy tomorrow night,” Jack declared as he shut off his motor.
“But we can’t go so fast the rest of the day,” Bob cautioned him. “We don’t want to get pinched and you know the cops are pretty plenty along the Boston Post Road.”
“I know, but we’ve got a dandy start and ought to have no trouble in making Uncle Jim’s by six easy. It’s only about three hundred miles from here.”