ed them all nearly out of their seats.

Mollie looked back over her shoulder with a despairing expression:

"Well, this certainly isn't our lucky day," she said, with forced calm.
"First we nearly get eaten up by a snake, and then the car breaks down--"

"But, Mollie, what's the matter?" cried Grace impatiently. "We can't stay
here. Can't you see?--there's a storm coming up."

"Well I didn't do it," snapped Mollie. "I do think, Grace, you can be the
most unreasonable--"

"Oh, please don't start anything else," cried Betty, herself a little on
edge with the rather exciting day's events. "Let's get out and see if we
can find what's wrong. We certainly can't do any good by talking about
it."

They got out, and Mollie even consented to "get under," but all to no
avail. The machine refused to be placated and stood stubbornly still in
the middle of the road while the storm clouds gathered and the first drops
began to fall.

"Well," Mollie decided at last, sitting miserably on the running board,
"I guess we've either got to sit here all night or walk home and trust to
luck the car doesn't get stolen."

"Also get soaked through ourselves," Grace was adding disconsolately, when
a familiar sound caught their ears. It was the regular tramp, tramp of
marching men.

"Some of the boys from the camp!" cried Mollie, springing up joyfully.
"Maybe they'll help us."

As the small squad swung around the turn in the road they were delighted
to see that Sergeant Mullins was in charge. He brought the boys to a sharp
halt at sight of them, and came forward to meet them, saluting gravely.

"Are you in trouble?" he asked, with his quiet smile and a glance at the
stalled machine. "May I help?"

"Oh, would you?" cried Betty, her pretty forehead puckered. "We do want to
get back before the storm breaks."

Without a word, the young fellow removed his jacket and examined the
machine carefully. Then, with equal gravity, he wormed his way under the
car.

In what seemed to the girls no more than a minute, he reappeared and
smiled at them.

"I guess it's all right now," he assured them with another punctilious
salute. "If I might suggest that there's no time to be lost--" with a
significant glance toward the lowering sky. For answer, Mollie threw in
the clutch and the machine purred evenly. Then, with a little impulsive
gesture, she turned to the sergeant.

"It's--it's a long way to Camp Liberty," she said, with pretty hesitation.
"W