"I don't see anything to grin at," remarked Dick Travers; "here we are, miles from home, and stranded. Makes us look like a lot of chumps."
"Cheer up, Dick," said Bob; "I was smiling to think how some fellow wasted his time."
"What do you mean?" queried Sam.
"Do you think I would come on a trip like this without bringing along a few extra spark plugs? No siree!"
"Hurrah!" cried Dick. "You're all right, Bob Somers. Trot 'em out quick, and let us get away before anything else happens."
Bob produced his bunch of keys and opened a small locker near the motor, which contained a tool-box and various supplies.
"Guess the fellow who was kind enough to do all this work didn't think we kept a regular stock on hand, eh, Chubby?"
The stout boy laughed. "I'd give a lot to know who did it," he observed.
Bob, who was something of a mechanic, soon had the new spark plugs in place and the wires attached.
"Turn the wheel, Dave," he cried, at length; "let's see how it works."