He jumped in beside George, who already had his hand on the steering wheel.
“Sure you won’t take a ride, Dave?” asked the millionaire boy, fairly bubbling over with impatience.
“No, thanks; that nice chair in the house-boat appeals to me.”
“You, Tommy?”
But Tom didn’t feel like going without the others, and declined regretfully.
“Awfully sorry; but if you won’t accept the treat that settles it,” said George, waving his hand. “This will be a great joke on fiery Pierre; and a good lesson besides. So-long! What’s that? Sure—look out for the two of us anywhere along the line. Bye, bye!” And almost before the boys realized it the big car was in motion.
By this time the moon was just above the eastern horizon, and already its silvery radiance was stealing over the landscape. The sky was a deep gray blue, and not a cloud dotted its surface.
The two boys in the auto saw the pale white road extending off in an almost straight line; back of them the distant hills rose dim and ghostly against the sky, while over the broad expanse of gently rolling country lights sparkled in various farmhouses. Far above, a night-hawk screamed its way in a circling flight, and from the woods came the melancholy hoot of an owl. It was a scene that awakened the admiration of both boys, and, as the soft breeze fanned their cheeks, they enjoyed it and the swift, gliding motion to the full.
What George lacked in skill as a chauffeur he made up in recklessness. Soon the fields and the trees and the white road became a confused blur. His eyes danced with excitement, and he put on still greater speed. Faster—faster raced the touring car, until Aleck Hunt began to grow dizzy.
A bridge flashed by; then tall trees seemed to spring up like warning sentinels on either hand, and the road became a blotch of grim shadows and silver lights.