"See if you can turn it any more, Grand-daddy. Perhaps your paws are stronger than mine."
Grand-daddy gave it several twists. Then Limpy-toes hopped upon the seat and grasped the wheel.
"All aboard for Pond Lily Lake!" he called gaily. Grand-daddy and Buster scrambled in. The automobile made a dash through the chrysanthemum bushes into the driveway. On and on they sped, past the new barn, by the poultry houses and the sweet apple tree. Grand-daddy pulled his cap closer.
"Ah!" cried Buster, "this is fun. But is it running away, Limpy-toes?"
"Oh, no, I am steering it and can stop any minute," answered Limpy-toes.
"A wonderful invention," praised Grand-daddy. "Now if any creature is sick, Dr. Whiskers will be there in a jiffy. Ah! What is the trouble, Limpy-toes?"
The automobile had come to a sudden stop at the edge of Mr. Giant's orchard.
"It has stopped," explained Limpy-toes.
"So I see," chuckled Grand-daddy.
