It required the greater portion of the Scouts' ready cash to pay for the thirty-eight-mile trip to Deerfield. Roundy had disappeared, so his ticket had to be purchased out of the common fund; but they had barely worked the hand car to the main track before he hove in sight, his arms full of sandwiches and boxes of crackers.
"Getting along toward dinner time," he explained, "and nobody knows when we'll get anything to eat, if we don't stock up when we have the chance."
The young man at the station gave them a parting word of advice. "You may think the hand car works hard at first, but after you get going it will pretty nearly run itself. Don't waste any time, but roll 'er along as fast as you can. Turn it over to the agent at the Junction and tell him that Jensen sent you. By-by!"
The young man was right. The hand car did run loggily at first; but with four hardy Scouts on each handlebar, it slowly gained headway.
"It's not exactly an automobile," said Specs, between strokes, "but it goes."
"You can't puncture the tires, either," added Jump.
"Somebody punctured this right forward one," suggested S. S., as by jolt and jar the wheel proved that it was no longer as round as it had been.
Nap had the solution. "Keep your eyes open, Mr. Sherlock Holmes Bonfire, and when you see a 'Free Air' sign we'll stop."
For the first time since the fire, the Black Eagles were actually growing cheerful. They seemed no longer chasing a will-o'-the-wisp hope; at last, they were substantially on their way to victory. The handles fairly flew.