“Why—I’m not sure that there’s much the matter with him, if his folks wouldn’t watch over him so close and nag him all the time. The poor chap is epileptic——”
“Has fits?”
“Yes. Dreadful ones sometimes. But he’ll outgrow them, the doctor says. Only his folks are rich, and they hire maids, and governesses, and tutors and such folk, to watch him all the time. They don’t dare have him play like other boys, or with other boys. He’s in bad now, I tell you.”
“But running an automobile is no job for a fellow who may have a fit at any moment,” said Billy.
“I believe you,” said Jim. “Well, you’re off!”
“Bye-bye!” shouted Billy, as Dan whirled the car out of the yard. But before they were a mile on the road the brothers changed places. Billy slipped to the wheel and Dan sat beside him.
“Now, youngster!” chuckled Dan, “let’s see what you can do to her. We have a clear road before us. Up hill and down dale—just about what we’ll have for the thousand mile run. And we’ve got no weight behind. Let her go!”
The drab car climbed the hill without a break, slid over the summit, and coasted down the other side at a pace which made the brothers stoop to get a breath. Their lights showed a long, clear stretch of road ahead; but when they came to a bend they went around it so quickly that Dan was obliged to fling himself far out from the car on the inner side to keep the tires on the ground. And his weight was barely sufficient for that.
At racing speed they came down into Riverdale. The town was silent and only the street lights winked at them as they roared through the streets and out past Josiah Somes’ home. That watchdog of the public welfare was not on hand to stretch his rope for them, and in a very few minutes they ran quietly into their own yard—time from Karnac, one hour and thirteen minutes.
But as soon as the engine had cooled off they had to go over the entire machine, tighten bolts, replace some, clean thoroughly, oil the bearings, and otherwise give the Breton-Melville a thorough grooming.