“Let me stick to the wheel while you take a bite, Dan,” begged the younger boy, “and then I’ll eat. I wonder how far some of the head cars will get to-day? Where’s Mr. Briggs’ car?”
“Haven’t seen it yet. We haven’t passed that maroon baby, you may very well believe!”
“And Mr. Darringford’s car?” queried Billy.
“Why, he’s behind. Didn’t you notice? His number is fifty-three.”
“And number seven?” said Billy. “That’s the car I want to give the dust of the road.”
“You’ll wait a bit for that,” said his brother. “Chance and Burton started too far in advance for us to think of passing them yet.”
“You never can tell,” Billy observed, shaking his head. “Maybe they’ll break down.”
“I hope not,” returned Dan, quickly. “If we beat them I want them to have the best chance possible.”
“Say! I’d like to show ’em up right around Greenbaugh,” said Billy, quickly. “You know, Chance went to Greenbaugh Seminary one year—before his brother came to the Darringford shops.”
“Well?”