At the end of the song Jack turned and spoke to Algy. “What’s the matter with your vocal chord, A. A. A.? Has it broken, or can’t you sing anything but soprano?”
Algy pondered this query for a few moments, while the girls had to smother their risibles in their handkerchiefs. Then the troubled young man said: “Why, I am just wondering where the vocal chord is? Has it any connection with the spine? You said something yesterday about violent exercise being good for my spinal cord, and now you ask if it is broken.” He seemed not to have heard the question about having a soprano voice.
“Why, no, A. A. A.—you are wrong on both counts. Your vocal chord, because it is so high, you know, must be located in your cranium. Any one can tell that, by your high-toned airs. Some day it might prove very interesting for you to have a specialist on the brain seek for the Lost Chord in your head. You would become famous in a day, were he to discover it in your cerebellum,” explained Jack.
Poor Algy knew nothing of cerebrums or cerebellums, or of chords,—Lost or Found,—so how was he to know that Jack was making a goose of him? That night, after he had sought his down pillows to sleep, the erratic spirit refused to close his eyes. Then Algy began to wonder what that tremendously wise chap meant by his high-toned airs! How the girls would have teased Jack, had they but known that Algy revered the young man’s intelligence—all because that joker spoke of matters pertaining to the head.
Early the following morning Jack rapped upon each door of the rooms occupied by his friends, and informed them that he was ready to start on that day’s excursion. There was no need for a second call for breakfast that time—in less than half an hour every one was gathered about the table. True, Algy looked heavy-eyed, but no one paid overmuch attention to him.
“We are going to take lunch and eat it in the Ceremonial Cave at Frigoles Canyon, this noon,” announced Jack. “If we take one of the autos usually rented for the round trip, we are limited to six passengers. That would cost us thirty-five dollars for the sixty-eight miles there and back. If we wanted to remain overnight at El Rito Ranch, the extra cost on the car would be twenty dollars. So I got busy and figured out costs, and I am persuaded to hire a regular seven-passenger automobile, such as we had yesterday, and go as we like, and return any old time. What do you think of the suggestion?”
The car used the preceding day was very comfortable; and the idea of leaving one member out of the party if the regular bus was engaged had no appeal to any one in Jack’s party; hence it was quickly decided to engage the large touring car for the round trip—perhaps for the night and next day. Immediately after deciding this question, Jack hastened out of the dining-room and arranged for the auto.
The hotel management packed a generous luncheon for seven guests and the chauffeur, and soon after breakfast had been finished the young folks gathered on the verandah for the start.
Jack sat in front beside the driver and learned much about the wonders of the region. It was due to information thus received that he halted the car some time after Santa Fé had been left behind, and told his companions about the ranch called El Rito where a splendid luncheon was to be had at a dollar a person.
“But we have planned a luncheon in the cave you told about, Jack!” exclaimed Eleanor, plainly disappointed.