The young people took in a matinee in the afternoon and a musical show, followed by dinner, in the evening, and all were agreed in declaring it a perfect day.
Jim was slated to pitch the next day and with Clara watching from a box he turned in a perfect game, winning by a score of 1 to 0, the run being contributed by Joe, who turned loose a screaming homer in the sixth. Naturally both young men felt elated.
It was a beautiful summer evening, and they had arranged for an automobile ride out on Long Island. Joe had hired a speedy car, but dispensed with the services of a chauffeur. He himself was an accomplished driver and knew all the roads. A chauffeur would have been only a restraint on their freedom of conversation.
They bowled along over the perfect roads, happy beyond words and at peace with all the world. Mabel was seated in front with Joe, while Jim and Clara occupied the tonneau. All were in the gayest of spirits. Much of the time they talked, but speech and silences were equally sweet.
They had dinner at an excellent inn, about forty miles out of the city. There was a good string band and the young couples had several dances. The evening wore away before they knew it, and it was rather late when they turned their faces cityward.
The car was purring along merrily on a rather lonely stretch of road in the vicinity of Merrick, when a big car came swiftly up behind them. The driver tooted his horn and Joe drew a little to one side to give the car plenty of room to pass. The car rushed by and lengthened the distance until it was about a hundred yards ahead.
“Seems to be in a hurry,” remarked Jim.
“A bunch of joy riders, I suppose,” answered Joe. “Hello, what does that mean?”
For the car had suddenly stopped and the driver had swung it across the road, blocking it.
“Something gone wrong with the steering gear,” commented Joe. “Looks like a breakdown. Perhaps we can help them.”