"It would take a wizard to understand what you intend to do."
"Well, you will see later on. Drive in this gate. That's it, and now for the shovels."
CHAPTER XIX.
THE TRAP.
For more than half an hour eager inquiries were made in Millbrook for a spark plug such as they wanted. But all their search was to no avail. But suddenly, just as they were about to give up in despair, a man, of whom they had made inquiries, recalled that not far out of town there was a small garage.
"We'll try there," determined Jimsy.
Finding out the road, they speeded to the place. It did not look very promising, a small, badly fitted up auto station, run by an elderly man with red-rimmed, watery eyes, looking out from behind a pair of horn spectacles that somehow gave him the odd look of a frog.
"Got any spark plugs?" asked Jimsy, as the machine came to a halt.
"Yes, all kinds," said the man, in a wheezy, asthmatic voice that sounded like the exhaust of a dying-down engine.