but I think we haven’t come to them yet. Chirk up, it’s quite some distance yet, but we’ll keep going till we get there.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Farrington, “what if the belt should break, or something give way!”
“Don’t think of such things, Mother; nothing is going to give way. But if it should, why, we’ll just sit here till morning, and then we can see to fix it.”
Mrs. Farrington couldn’t help laughing at Roger’s good nature, but she said, “Of course, I know everything’s all right, and truly, I’m not a bit frightened. But somehow, John, I’d feel more comfortable if you’d come back here with me, and let one of the girls sit in front in your place.”
“Certainly,” said her husband, “hop over here, Elise.”
“Let me go,” cried Patty, who somehow felt, intuitively, that Elise would prefer to stay behind with her parents. As for Patty herself, she had no fear, and really wanted the exciting experience of sitting up in front during this wild night ride.
Roger stopped the car, and the change was soon effected. As Patty insisted upon it, she was allowed to go instead of Elise, and in a moment they were off again.
“Do you know,” said Patty to Roger, after they had started, “when I got out then, I felt two or three drops of rain!”
“I do know it,” said Roger, in a low tone, “and I may as well tell you, Patty, that there’s going to be a hard storm before long. Certainly before we reach Pine Branches.”
“How dreadful,” said Patty, who was awed more by the anxious note in Roger’s voice, than by the thought of the rain storm. “Don’t you think it would be better,” she went on, hoping to make a helpful suggestion, “if we should put in to some house until the storm is over? Surely anybody would give us shelter.”
“I don’t see any houses,” said Roger, “and, Patty, I may as well own up, we’re off the road somehow. I think I must have taken the wrong turning at that fork a few miles back. And though I’m not quite sure, yet I feel a growing conviction that we’re lost.”
Although the situation was appalling, for some unexplainable reason Patty couldn’t help giggling.
“Lost!” she exclaimed in a tragic whisper, “in the middle of the night! in a desolate country region! and a storm coming on!”
Patty’s dramatic summary of the situation made Roger laugh too. And their peals of gaiety reassured the three who sat behind.
“What are you laughing at?” said Elise; “I wish you’d tell me, for I’m ’most scared to death, and Roger, it’s beginning to rain.”
“You don’t say so!” said Roger, in a tone of polite surprise, “why then we must put on the curtains.” He stopped the car, and jumping down from his place, began to arrange the curtains which were always carried in case of rain.
Mr. Farrington helped him, and as he did so, remarked, “Looks like something of a storm, my boy.”
“Father,” said Roger, in a low voice, “it’s going to rain cats and dogs, and there may be a few thunders and lightnings. I hope mother won’t have hysterics, and I don’t believe she will, if you sit by her and hold her hand. I don’t think we’d better stop. I think we’d better drive straight ahead, but, Dad, I believe we’re on the wrong road. We’re not lost; I know the way all right, but to go around the way we are going, is about forty miles farther than the way I meant to go; and yet I don’t dare turn back and try to get on the other road again, for fear I’ll really get lost.”
“Roger,” said Mr. Farrington, “you’re a first-class chauffeur, and I’ll give you a reference whenever you want one, but I must admit that to-night you have succeeded in getting us into a pretty mess.”
Roger was grateful enough for the light way in which his father treated the rather serious situation, but the boy keenly felt his responsibility.
“Good old Dad,” he said, “you’re a brick! Get in back now, and look after mother and Elise. Don’t let them shoot me or anything, when I’m not looking. Patty is a little trump; she is plucky clear through, and I am glad to have her up in front with me. Now I’ll do the best I can, and drive straight through the storm. If I see any sort of a place where we can turn in for shelter, I think we’d better do it, don’t you?”
“I do, indeed,” said his father. “Meantime, my boy, go ahead. I trust the whole matter to you, for you’re a more expert driver than I am.”
It was already raining fast as the two men again climbed into the car. But the curtains all around kept the travellers dry, and with its cheery lights the interior of the car was cozy and pleasant.
In front was a curtain with a large window of mica which gave ample view of the road ahead.
With his strong and well-arranged lights, Roger had no fear of collision, and as they were well protected from the rain, his chief worriment was because they were on the wrong road.
“It’s miles and miles longer to go around this way,” he confided to Patty. “I don’t know what time we’ll ever get there.”
“Never mind,” said Patty, who wanted to cheer him up. “I think this is a great experience. I suppose there’s danger, but somehow I can’t help enjoying the wild excitement of it.”
“I’m glad you like it,” said Roger a little grimly. “I’m always pleased to entertain my guests.”
The storm was increasing, and now amounted to a gale. The rain dashed against the curtains in great wet sheets, and finally forced its way in at a few of the crevices.
Mrs. Farrington, sitting between her husband and daughter, was thoroughly frightened and extremely uncomfortable, but she pluckily refrained from giving way to her nervousness, and succeeded in behaving herself with real bravery and courage.
Still the tempest grew. So wildly did it dash against the front curtain that Patty and Roger could see scarcely a foot before the machine.
“There’s one comfort,” said Roger, through his clenched teeth, “we’re not in danger of running into anything, for no other fools would be abroad such a night as this. Patty, I’m going to speed her! I’m going to race the storm!”
“Do!” said Patty, who was wrought up to a tense pitch of excitement by the war of the elements without, and the novelty of the situation within.
Roger increased the speed, and they flew through the black night and dashed into the pouring rain, while Patty held her breath, and wondered what would happen next.
On they went and on. Patty’s imagination kept pace with her experiences and through her mind flitted visions of Tam O’Shanter’s ride, John Gilpin’s ride and the ride of Collins Graves. But all of these seemed tame affairs beside their own break-neck speed through the wild night!
“Roger,” said his mother, “Roger, won’t you please——”
“Ask her not to speak to me just now, Patty, please,” said the boy, in such a tense, strained voice that Patty was frightened at last, but she knew that if Roger were frightened, that was a special reason for her own calmness and bravery. Turning slightly, she said, “Please don’t speak to him just now, Mrs. Farrington; he wants to put all his attention on his steering.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Farrington, who had not the slightest idea that there was any cause for alarm, aside from the discomfort of the storm. “I only wanted to tell him to watch out for railroad trains.”
And then Patty realised that that was just what Roger was looking out for! She could not see ahead into the blinding rain, but she knew they were going down hill. She heard what seemed like the distant whistle of a locomotive, and suddenly realising that Roger could not stop the car and must cross the track before the train came, she thought at the same