His father's family car and automobile runabout were both at the
hotel garage, and at his disposal. Soon Fred Ripley was speeding
away over the country road in the automobile runabout.
As he neared the camp he extinguished the running lights, then
went on slowly so as to make no noise. At last he stopped the
car.
Gr-r-r-r! came out of the darkness. Faithful Towser was still
at his post. He came forward slowly, suspiciously out of the
darkness. He may have recognized his enemy, for Towser came close
to the car, showing his teeth in an ugly fashion.
Fred lost no time in starting his car forward. "I wish that pup
would have the nerve to get in front of the car," he muttered
as he drove slowly away from the camp. "What fun it would be
to run over the brute! I don't dare to get out of the car while
he's on guard. I forgot about him for the time being, though
goodness knows I've cause to remember him."
Towser uttered one or two farewell growls. Two hundred yards
further on Fred let out the speed in earnest, at the same time
switching on the electric running lights.
"I'll come back late to-night," Fred reflected. "I'll leave the
machine a little way down the road, and come up here on foot.
In the meantime I'll think of some scheme to get square with
Dick Prescott and his crowd. I'll hunt up a good stout club,
too, and then if that confounded dog is troublesome I'll settle
him.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177