“Maybe we can hook a ride!” Midge suggested. “Here comes a truck. Let’s signal the driver.”
Despite his frantic hand waving, the truck rolled on past. However, a quarter of a mile farther on, the hikers observed a familiar appearing station wagon coming toward them.
“Say, that looks like my Dad’s car!” exclaimed Midge.
He was right. A moment later, with a screech of brakes, the station wagon halted at the side of the road.
“Hey, you’re going in the wrong direction!” Midge called to his father.
“I’ll turn around,” Mr. Holloway offered. “I heard you boys were out this way on a hike. The weather’s turning colder, so I thought you might like a lift back into town. Of course if you prefer to walk—”
A hoot of derision greeted this remark. The Cubs waited until Mr. Holloway had turned the station wagon around on the narrow road, and then piled in.
Midge, Dan and Mr. Hatfield sat in the front with the Den Dad. The others crowded into the rear, stowing their collection of roofing discs at their feet.
“It’s sure swell to catch a ride,” Dan said gratefully. “My dogs were beginning to ache me.”
In the rear of the station wagon, the other Cubs broke into song, making further conversation all but impossible.