“We—ell——”
“Do you know the way, Henri?” asked Mr. Briggs, of the Frenchman at the wheel.
“No, Monsieur,” replied Henri, quickly. “I am not what you call familiar with the ways.”
Dan could not help offering. Besides, his whole body tingled for another ride in the swift, easy-running car. And Henri might let him run the machine again!
“I can go with you, Mr. Armitage,” he said, quickly. “We can run around to the swamp in half an hour—at night. You won’t mind traveling fast. And the road back here passes within half a mile of our house, although there is no cross-road—not even a wood-team path. I can walk from the turnpike to our house in less than ten minutes.”
“Say, that’s kind of you, Speedwell,” said Mr. Briggs. “But it’s late. Your folks will expect you home.”
“They’re abed. I wasn’t really expecting to go to sleep to-night,” said Dan, laughing. “You see, we have to milk early, and Billy is away. I have his share of the work to do, too.”
“I am afraid we are imposing on you,” said Mr. Armitage.
“No, sir.”
“Perhaps the boy is itching to get in Henri’s place again,” laughed the owner of the maroon car.