“By jove!” muttered their new acquaintance. “I wonder, myself.” He was silent a moment, but when the car was rushing along smoothly into the flood of white light thrown by the powerful lamps, he turned his head. “Look here, you fellows. My name’s Whiting, Joe Whiting, and I live about seven miles down the road. All my folks are away for the summer and I’m going myself to-morrow, and so things aren’t in very good shape for guests. But if you chaps don’t mind bunking around on mattresses and couches I’ll be glad to put you up for the night. Any way, I can give you plenty to eat. What do you say?”
“If you weren’t steering,” answered Chub, “I’d fall on your neck! We accept your kind invitation, Mr. Whiting. We are too far gone to have any sense of decency left; we accept anything and everything you want to offer.”
Dick and Roy slumbering
“All right,” laughed Whiting, jovially. “That’s good. Do you fellows mind going a bit fast?”
“Not a bit,” answered Roy and Dick in a breath. The big car shot forward and the wind rushed by them. The road was fairly straight and level and quite deserted, and the car tossed the miles behind in a way that made the boys stare.
“Going all right now!” bawled Whiting in Chub’s ear.
“None too fast for me—Whoa!”