“None!” we all yelled.
It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when we got back to Utica. It looked just the same as before; all the buildings were there and everything. Harry said it hadn’t changed a bit.
Now if we had followed the road from Utica to Syracuse, we wouldn’t have had the adventure that I’m going to tell you about. I bet you’re glad we took another road, hey? Anyway, this is how it happened. In the restaurant where we stopped to get some eats in Utica, we met some moving picture men with a camera. Gee, that’s the way it is with Harry Donnelle—he gets acquainted with everybody.
Those men said that they had just come from a place named Lurin, where there were a lot of cliffs and things. They said they had been making part of a photo-play up there. I bet they have a lot of fun, those men. They told us that if we didn’t mind a couple of steep hills, that would be the shortest way to get to Watertown, because it cut off a corner.
One thing about Harry Donnelle, he always wants to do things different from the regular way. Believe me, if you’re in an auto the best way is always to follow the state road. But Harry said that if we hit into the road north through Alder Creek and Boonville, we’d be able to get to Watertown that night.
“I bet it’s a rocky road to Dublin,” Grove said.
“Will we fall off the cliffs?” poor little Skinny piped up.
“Not afraid are you, Alf?” Harry said, nice and pleasant like.
I didn’t say anything, because we had no camping outfit and it costs a lot of money at hotels, and if we could cut out Syracuse and get to Watertown that night, I saw it would be a good thing. Only we didn’t know anything about the road.
Harry said, “Well, the only way we can know is to find out.” That was just like him. If you tell him a thing is risky, he wants to do it right away.