“You seem to have had bad luck, my friends,” laughed the tramp, as he sat erect when the boys approached.
“Yes, the day is so hot,” growled George, “that the tube burst. We had a blowout. We had it blown up too much anyway when we left Newburgh.”
“Have you been to Newburgh!” inquired the tramp.
“Yes,” replied George shortly.
“Did you find your car?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad.” If the tramp, however, had any real sympathy for the boys in their loss his countenance failed to reflect the feeling, for he was still grinning at his young companions. “Not much use,” he continued. “There must be seventy-five or a hundred thousand autos in Jersey alone, and when you stop to think of all that are in New York and Pennsylvania you will see you stand mighty little chance of ever finding your own car.”
“Thank you,” said George. “You needn’t be worried though, for we are going to get it.”
“What are you doing up here?” demanded Fred.
“Why I got to thinking of it last night,” explained the tramp, “after you boys left home and the more I thought about it the more I thought I would like to come up into this part of the world too. You haven’t any objection to my coming?” he added quizzically.