“Don’t know about that,” said Nat. “You know, a couple of tramps were talking about the same thing. One says: ‘Isn’t it strange how few of our youthful dreams come true?’ And the other fellow answers back: ‘Oh, I dunno. I remember when I used to dream of wearing long pants, and now I guess I wear ’em longer than anybody else in the country.’”
“Better ’tend to your business, boy, and stop cracking jokes,” advised Ned.
“I’ll see that he doesn’t run us up a tree,” promised Tavia, confidently.
The Fire Bird swiftly passed out of the neighborhood with which the young people were familiar and struck into the road leading to Portersburg. It was a fairly good auto track, but had never been oiled. Therefore, there were “hills and hummocks,” as Tavia said, “in great profusion.”
“Oh! oh! OH!” she gasped, in crescendo, as the car bounced and jarred over some of these “thank-you-ma’ams.” “Did you ever see such a hubbly road, Doro?”
“I don’t see much of this one,” confessed Dorothy.
The forest shut the road about so thickly that beyond the headlights’ glare the way looked like a tunnel. Occasionally, some small, night wandering animal, scurried across the track.
“There’s a rabbit!” ejaculated Tavia. “I wonder what he thinks this auto is?”
“The Car of Juggernaut,” said Dorothy. “Lucky he escaped.”
They were going down a hill. Suddenly Nat threw out the clutch and braked hard. The horn likewise uttered a stuttering warning.