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next morning camp was broken and the Slow Poke was made ready for the cruise to Ferry Hill. Chub and Harry left Dick to fiddle with his beloved engine and Roy to help him, and paid a farewell visit to Mrs. Peel. They found the little woman busily and contentedly engaged about the store, armed with a feather duster. Chub’s gasoline sign still challenged the passing traffic from the corner of the building.

“I’m just going to let it stay right there,” said Mrs. Peel, when Chub offered to get it down for her. “When you can buy gasoline for twelve or fourteen cents by the barrel and sell it for twenty cents a gallon, I think it pays real well. And you’d be surprised the number of automobiles go by here! I’ve been keeping track of them this morning, and there’s been three already. Didn’t any of them want any gasoline, I guess; 397