“All right,” assented Harry, satisfied with this explanation. “We’ll try and save a seat for you—you know where we usually sit.”
“Yes, I know,” said Bob, as he laid his book just inside the front door.
“And if you’re going to meet that 2:30 train it’s time you got a move on,” added Ned.
“Yes, I’m going to start now,” said Bob. “Have to make a time allowance for the little old flivver,” he added with a laugh. “If you fellows like I’ll drop you off at the ball park.”
“Drop us off is good!” laughed Ned.
“If the old flivver doesn’t drop apart itself on the way down,” added Harry.
“Oh, I guess she’ll hold together that long,” chuckled the young detective—for Bob was just that, as some of you know, and as others of you will learn in the course of this story. Bob walked around to the side drive where stood an ancient and honorable automobile of the class generally called flivvers. Truly it was ancient, and Bob had added the title honorable, for it had given him good service in spite of the small price he paid for it.
“Can you get her going?” asked Ned, as he and his chum looked somewhat dubiously at the machine.
“Well, I don’t want to make any rash statements,” chuckled Bob, “but I think if I give her a good dose of talcum powder, and rub a lip stick on the carburetor she may be induced to give us service. Hop in and I’ll have a go at her.”
“Better wait until he gets her started before you hop in,” cautioned Ned to Harry. “She may buck with you.”