Dave, alighting, saw a farmer, of middle age. He, indeed, had a gun—but he set this, and a game bag, alongside a haystack, and advanced towards them with no indication of antagonism.
“That was a pretty slick landing,” he said. “No fire about your machine, is there?”
“None at all,” answered Dave. “I have shut off everything.”
“I was thinking of the haystacks,” explained the farmer. “You’ve got a fine machine there. I’ve seen some, they’re getting so common they often come out this way.”
“We have run out of gasoline,” said Dave. “Do you happen to have a supply?”
“I don’t, for a fact,” was the reply, “but I happen to know my nearest neighbor has. If you want to come up to the house, and wait a bit, I’ll send one of my men after it.”
“We need quite a quantity,” said Dave, “and will be glad to pay a good price.”
“A bite of something to eat wouldn’t come in amiss, either,” suggested Hiram.
“I reckon we can accommodate you in that particular,” said the farmer. “Make things snug, lads, and come up to the house.”
He led the way, chatting busily. Dave soon discovered that he was up-to-date, readily pleased with novelty, very inquisitive and hospitable in the extreme. He learned of the extent of the needs of his guests, and forthwith sent a hired man with a wagon over to the neighbor’s for gasoline. Then, as his visitors were comfortably seated on a screened porch, with chairs and a table on it, he left them for the kitchen of the house.