| PAGE | |
| A Chorus of Good-byes | [ Frontispiece] |
| “Are You Working for the Circus?” | [ 71] |
| “Steamer Coming,” He Announced | [ 175] |
| “Look Out for Yourselves, Boys” | [ 201] |
| He Sprang to His Place | [ 284] |
The Rambler Club’s Motor
Car
CHAPTER I
OFF TO WISCONSIN
On the steps of a house on Michigan Avenue, Chicago, not far from Thirtieth Street, Victor Collins stood gazing up and down the wide thoroughfare. There was an expression in his eyes which seemed to indicate an earnest and expectant state of mind.
The steps belonged to a fine mansion with handsome columns on either side of the entrance and an ornate balcony above. Everything suggested that the neighborhood was the home of wealth and aristocracy. Even the lad on the steps fitted perfectly into the picture. His rather small, slight figure was dressed in a natty brown suit, while a cap—a very large checkered cap—rested jauntily on his neatly brushed hair. Victor Collins’ features were well proportioned, although the curves were rather too dainty, perhaps, to suit the idea of some critical lads.
Victor was becoming impatient. Impatience was one of his principal characteristics. Waiting is tedious. So Victor tilted his cap far back, the process revealing two frowning lines on his forehead which, considering his age, should never have existed.
Fortunately for the lad’s peace of mind, however, the vigorous honk, honk of a motor car, rising above all other sounds in the street, suddenly caused his gaze to become centered upon the approaching machine.
“Well, thank goodness, here they are at last!” he exclaimed, joyfully.
Running down the steps he reached the curb just as a big touring car swung up alongside and came to a stop.
“All ready, Victor?” called the chauffeur, a broad-shouldered, healthy-looking lad, leaping to the ground.