The attempt was successful. The runabout sputtered—perhaps defiantly—as it yielded to the tugging and rolled up the slope. Matt looked the machine over and could not find that it had suffered any by the slide down the slope.
“It’ll hang together till it gets you, Motor Matt,” observed Billy grewsomely. “That’s the way with these hoodoo cars. They never go to pieces till they kill somebody.”
“You’re too good a driver, Billy, to talk such foolishness,” returned Matt. “Now, tell us how to get to the Malvern Country Club.”
“Ain’t I going with you?”
“Three of us couldn’t ride very comfortably in the runabout.”
“But hadn’t I better go along in the touring car so as to be handy in case of accidents?”
“Oh, Joe and I will get along. We’re not going to have any accidents if we can help it—and I feel pretty sure we can.”
Billy laid out the course the boys were to take with considerable detail. When he was through, Matt felt that he had the route clearly fixed in his mind.
“If the runabout’s too much for you,” Billy finished, “all you’ve got to do is to phone the garage, and I’ll come a-runnin’.”
“Where did you get the rope?” asked Matt.