Immediately after refreshing themselves with a good meal the boys started for the garage.
Benjamin Rochester, more than ever convinced that there was something very mysterious in the actions of the crowd, received them with the gravity due to such somber thoughts.
“Yes, sir, de car am done been cleaned,” he remarked to Bob Somers. “I guess dat machine tried to burrow its way to de center ob de earth.”
“Well, it was as dark as a tunnel last night,” explained Bob, “and we hit some of the soft spots.”
“Guess yo’ must hab scooped ’em all up.”
Two minutes later the car was whirling out of the garage.
“Dey is certainly de queerest bunch I done ebber heard ob,” muttered Benjamin. “I s’pects I’ll read somethin’ ’bout ’em in de papers befo’ long.”
Through the streets of Kenosha, by the shortest route, sped the big machine. Charlie Blake’s association with the Ramblers was beginning to have an effect upon his timid disposition. His mind was no longer filled with dread misgivings, and Bob, who thought that his chief trouble lay in a lack of confidence in himself, kept urging him to try his hand at running the car.
And finally Blake, to Tom’s great astonishment, did try.
“Great Scott, you’re going some now!” exclaimed the tall boy. “Play ball with that kind of spirit and we’ll have a winning nine.”