CHAPTER XII
THE WARNING
Though not a very great distance separated the vicinity of the mountain of mystery from Chesterport, Tom and Ned decided they would occupy two days on the trip. By hard driving they might have covered the trail in a day and a night, but there was no special need of haste. Then, too, Tom Swift did not want to push the motor of his House on Wheels to the safe limit even, for he wanted to get it well broken in and limbered up before trying any stunts with it.
"This is the life!" sang Ned, as they rolled along the level highway. "Eh, Tom?"
"It sure is! Makes a fellow glad to be alive!"
"This is one of the best things you ever turned out of your shop," went on Ned, indicating by a comprehensive motion of his hand the vehicle in which they were riding.
As they motored along, their big car attracted much attention, not only from passing machines but on the part of persons in towns and villages through which they passed.
Noon came almost before the two travelers realized it, and, being then on a country road with no settlement in sight, they pulled off the highway, stopped under some trees and near a little stream, and prepared to have lunch.
The pantry had been well stocked, and Ned and Tom, being used to camping, had no difficulty in preparing a light meal, part of which was set to cooking on the electric stove. In a little while there was a most appetizing odor in the air and either this, or perhaps a sight of the big machine itself, caused a passing man to stop.
He was obviously a hobo, a rather dirty, unshaven and ragged specimen of tramp. Yet his face had an impudent, roguish smile and his manner was ingratiating as he shuffled up in the dust until he was opposite the House, outside of which Tom and Ned sat on stools in the shade. They were waiting for the potatoes to boil.