“We’ll have to put up some shelves, I suppose, for oil and grease and things,” said Tom. “And where can we keep the gasoline if we get a barrel full at a time?”
“Dad says you’ll have to keep it out of doors and away from buildings,” replied Willard. “Let’s have a look.”
So they went outside and soon found a place for it some twelve feet from the stable and a little further from the house. It was rather far from the grass-grown drive that led from stable to street, but Tom declared that it wouldn’t be any trick to lug the gasoline in a pail from the barrel to the car. Besides, he pointed out, there was a pear tree there and the foliage would serve as a roof. To make assurance doubly sure Tom went into the house and informed Jimmy Brennan by telephone that the car would be there that evening ready for him to work on. Then the boys each took a shaft of the buggy and gaily started along Cross Street for Saunders’ Carriage Works. They had only three blocks to go with it, but it seemed as though every fellow they knew was encountered in that short journey! Near the corner of Spruce Street, Jimmy Lippit was leaning over his front gate and hailed them with delight.
“Get ap!” he shouted. “Where you going with the buggy, Tom?”
“Saunders’,” replied Tom.
“Have you got a new horse?”
“No, I’m taking it over to have it stored.”
“Give me a ride, will you?” Jimmy, who was a slim, freckle-faced boy of fifteen, emerged from his yard and joined them. “Go on, Tom, let me get in there, will you?”