“I suppose I am,” replied Joe, impressed by the earnestness of Jim’s tone. “It’s up to us to keep our eyes open. Luckily, we have only three more days to stay here. All I want is to have them keep away from me till the season’s ended. Then the tables will be turned, and I’ll get after them.”
Joe and Jim changed into their street clothes and came out of the clubhouse. All the other men had gone, except Iredell, who had not quite finished dressing.
“Dandy weather,” remarked Joe, as they lingered for a moment on the steps. “What do you say, Jim, to a little auto ride to-morrow morning, along the Lincoln pike? Splendid road and fine scenery.”
“I’m on,” assented Jim. “I’d like nothing better.”
The weather was perfect the next day, and shortly after breakfast the chums hired a speedy little car and set out for their ride. The machine purred along smoothly, with Joe at the wheel, and as travelers were comparatively few at that early hour, they had the road largely to themselves, and on the long stretches could let the car out to an exhilarating speed.
“This is the life!” exclaimed Jim, jubilantly, as he settled back in his seat and drew in long breaths of the invigorating air. “It does a fellow good sometimes to— Look out, Joe! Look out!”
His shout of alarm was torn from him by a great motor truck that came darting at high speed from a side road that had been partially concealed by trees and underbrush.
It came thundering down upon the little car as though it were bent on annihilating it.
Joe’s quick glance took in the danger, and he swerved sharply to one side. Not sharply enough, however, to escape the impact altogether. The truck caught the car a glancing blow that hurled it like a catapult against a fence at the side of the road, which at that point ran along the edge of a deep ravine.
The car crashed through the fence, and had it not been that one of the wheels struck the trunk of a tree, would have plunged headlong into the gulch. The blow slewed the machine around, where it hung partly over the edge.