“Look out for yourselves, boys,” he cautioned. “Remember: if I had any authority over you I might not consent to your going.”
“Oh, don’t worry about us, sir,” said Bob. “We’ll be all right.”
“Down some embankment, I s’pose,” muttered Charlie.
Outside, Bob took a good look at the sky.
“I guess the skipper is right about the weather,” he remarked, as they started off in the direction of the garage.
Half an hour afterward the three arrived at the building. It was a very large garage containing many machines. The glare of electric lights revealed none more imposing than the Rambler Club’s motor car.
“Not a speck o’ mud left on her,” said the man in charge. “Going out to-night, sir?”
“Right away,” answered Tom, with an air of importance. “Pile in, fellows.”
The fellows “piled” in.
“We may be back to-night, and we may not,” said the tall boy, handing over the amount of the bill and a generous tip. “Let ’er go, Bob. So-long!”