This arrangement just suited Myra, who loved to romp like her brothers; so she gleefully perched on top of the long, flat chest strapped on one side of the auto, and the procession slowly set out on its long journey.
"My! but it's a beautiful day," sighed Tabitha at length, her eyes wandering from the fog-wet landscape below to the sky above, where the blue was already chasing away the gray, as the sun struggled up behind the eastern hills.
"Didn't I tell you so?" crowed Gwynne, regretfully studying the last bite of a doughnut before popping it into her mouth. "It doesn't rain in California. Is this the river we cross eighteen times, Myra, in order to reach your ranch?"
"Only eight," mumbled Myra, with her mouth full of cookie crumbs. "This is it. Allow me to introduce you to the great——"
"Great!" echoed Tabitha, looking down at the shallow, sluggish stream with critical eyes. "Is it really a river? Looks to me like the little puddles we used to sail boats in after a heavy rain-storm back home when I was a little tot."
"It isn't very awe-inspiring now, is it? But you should see it in the spring after the rains. It certainly can play havoc then. Changes its channel every two or three years, and causes all sorts of damage. What is the matter ahead there?" Their auto had slowed down suddenly, and now came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. "What has happened, Dad?"
"Carson's auto is stuck in the mud."
"Mud?"
"Well, the river-bed, if that suits you any better. I'll get out and see if I can help them——"
"No need; they've started up again," said Tabitha, waving her hand at Carrie and wishing that she had been fortunate enough to get a seat in Mr. Carson's machine.