“Is your wife very ill?” asked Tom, as Jack headed the Flying Road Racer for the house indicated by the farmer.
“Eh, young feller? My wife! Waal, she’s as well as I be, I guess.”
“But—but you said she was sick,” exclaimed Tom, wondering if the novel air ride had turned their passenger’s brain.
“What, I said my wife was sick?” demanded the farmer incredulously.
“Why, of course you did, and that you were going for the doctor.”
“Waal, so I am. Fer Dr. Bates, the best horse doctor round here.”
“A horse doctor!” gasped Tom, “but what about Betsy Jane, your——”
“Old gray mare. Ther pesky critter had ther colic, and——”
But a roar of laughter from Jack and Mr. Jesson, who had listened to the conversation, interrupted him. They were still laughing over their comical mistake when Jack brought the Flying Road Racer to the ground in a pasture at the back of Dr. Bates’ house. Sure enough, a sign on the front porch, which they had glimpsed as they descended, said:
“Dr. James Bates, Veterinarian.”