a jolly chicken pot-pie dinner.”
“Hum! Yes! Trust Bob to remember anything that had ‘eats’ in it,” came from Jerry, with a chuckle. “But Colton isn’t so far away. We could take it in. What do you say?”
“I’m for it,” declared Ned.
“Same here,” added Bob. “But, speaking of chicken pot-pie makes me hungry. There’s a good hotel just ahead and what’s the matter with stopping there for dinner?”
“Nothing, I guess,” conceded Jerry. “We’re out for a good time, and we might as well have it. We’ll stop for grub, fellows, and then we can talk about this meet.”
A run of five minutes more brought them to a small country town called Freedon, where they ran their car under the hotel shed, and were soon arranging for dinner.
While waiting for the meal to be served the boys sat in the hotel lobby, which contained quite a few persons; farmers who had come in on business, or to sell produce, traveling men, and one or two well dressed persons, apparently auto tourists like our heroes.
Two men in particular attracted the attention of Jerry and his chums. They were dark-complexioned chaps, evidently used to being out of doors, and their quiet but expensive clothes betokened that they were well off, or posed as being in that condition.
But it was neither the clothes nor the appearance of the men that attracted the attention of the boys as much as their manner. They sat together, not far from the hotel clerk’s desk, and sharply scrutinized every person in the lobby. Nor did our friends escape observation. The dark, eager, shifting gaze of the two men rested on the boys from time to time, and then darted off toward newcomers.
“Have either of you seen those two men before?” asked Jerry of Ned and Bob, in a low voice.
“No,” replied Bob, who because of his fleshiness was still panting from the exertion of climbing the hotel steps.
“How about you, Ned?”
“I agree with Chunky,” was the other lad’s reply, giving his stout chum his often-used nickname. “But they certainly will know us if they see us again.”
“They sure will,” came from Jerry. “But now let’s have a look at that paper. I want to read about the meet. Where did you say it was to take place Ned? I mean that aviation meet.”
“At Colton, near Harmolet. We could put up at Harmolet I think, for there are not likely to be many accommodations in Colton. I know there is a good hotel in Harmolet.”
“Then Harmolet for ours!” exclaimed Bob in rather a loud voice. “I think – ”
At the mention of the name of that city the two queer men, as if moved by the same impulse, stared straight at our heroes. The eyes of Jerry met first those of the man nearest him, and then shifted to the face of his companion. The two men hastily glanced away, and then, as Bob, who had noticed their strange action and who had interrupted himself, resumed his remarks about the desirability of Harmolet as a stopping place, the two strangers whispered eagerly together.
“Hum,” mused Jerry. “That’s rather odd. They must know something about Harmolet.”
“That’s not strange, seeing that it’s a good-sized place,” observed Ned. “But I don’t believe I’d care to have anything to do with those chaps – especially after dark,” he added in a low voice. “I don’t like their looks.”
“Same here,” agreed Jerry. “But we’re not likely to have anything to do with them. Now about this meet. If we’re going we’ll have to give our motorship Comet an overhauling,” and with that our friends fell to talking of air travel, in which they were well-nigh experts.
Dinner was presently announced, and the boys went up to the hotel desk to register. Just in front of them were the two strange men, whose conduct had been the cause of some speculation among the three lads. The men put their names down on the books just ahead of Jerry Hopkins.
“Hum – James Brown and John Black,” mused Jerry as he looked at the signatures. “Couldn’t be any more common names than those I guess.”
“Where are they from?” asked Bob, for Jerry had registered for his two chums.
“It might be almost any place,” was the answer, “for it’s such a scrawl that I can’t read it. Brown and Black; eh? Well, they’re both dark complexioned enough to be called ‘black.’ However let’s go in to dinner. I hope we don’t sit anywhere near them. It would spoil my appetite to be stared at the way they have been looking at us.”
“It’ll take a good deal to spoil my appetite,” observed the stout lad with a heart-felt sigh.
The fears of our heroes were groundless, for they were seated well away from the two odd men, and they managed to do ample justice to the meal.
CHAPTER II
WARNED AWAY
“Well,” observed Bob, after an eloquent silence, during which knives and forks had been industriously plied. “Now I’m ready to talk business. When do you think we can go to that meet, Jerry?”
“As soon as we like, or, rather, as soon as it opens, which isn’t for two weeks.”
“Will you try for a prize?” asked Ned.
“I don’t see why we can’t,” was the opinion of the tall lad. “I wish they had some water there, so we could do some stunts with our hydroplanes, as we did when we rescued Mr. Jackson. That was a trip worth taking.”
“It sure was,” agreed his chums. “Maybe we can soon take another like it.”
And they fell to talking of their adventures in the past, and of those hoped for in the future.
While they are thus engaged I will take the opportunity of telling you something more about the boys, for I may not get another chance, as they are such rapid-fire chaps. Those of you who have read the previous books in the series need no introduction to the motor boys, but new readers may wish to be formally presented to them.
The boys were Jerry Hopkins, the son of Mrs. Julia Hopkins, a wealthy widow, Bob Baker, whose father, Andrew Baker, was a prominent banker, and Ned Slade. Ned’s father, Mr. Aaron Slade, owned a large department store. The boys had been chums ever since they were in the primary school, and when they were old enough to have motorcycles their friendship was more than ever firmly cemented, for they had many adventures together, as told in the first volume of this series, entitled “The Motor Boys.” Later they got an auto, and made a long trip overland, and some time afterward, in company with Professor Uriah Snodgrass, they went to Mexico to discover a buried city.
Coming home from Mexico across the plains they had more adventures. With some money they had made in a gold mine they had located, they bought a fine motor boat, and in that they spent many pleasant hours. The fifth volume of our series, entitled “The Motor Boys Afloat,” details some of them. In their craft the Dartaway, they took quite a trip along the Atlantic coast, and also down in the everglades of Florida. Later they voyaged on the Pacific ocean, in search of a mysterious derelict.
But staying on the earth, or afloat on the water did not long content our heroes. Airships were coming more and more into prominence, and it was not long before our friends had a fine motorship called the Comet.
You
