he would be very glad to furnish them with a hot supper,
and added that they could come in and dry themselves in her
sitting-room, where she started an open fire. The machines were placed
in Mr. Simpson's garage, and they purchased from the storekeeper some
gasoline and oil.

"Only a little after five o'clock," announced Roger. "I think by six
o'clock the storm will be over," he added.

While they were eating the supper provided by Mrs. Whittle, it stopped
raining, and a little later they saw the setting sun over the hills to
the westward.

"How many miles is it to Carpen Falls from here?" asked Luke.

"Fourteen by the automobile blue book," answered Dave.

"And what of the road?" questioned Ben.

"Mr. Simpson said it wasn't so bad but that it might be worse," answered
Dunston Porter, who had been interviewing the storekeeper and who had
told the man about the fallen tree, having learned that Mr. Simpson was
the head of the township committee.

"We don't want to get stuck, especially after it gets dark," said Ben.

"I wish we could stay here," sighed Mrs. Basswood. "But there don't seem
to be any accommodations."

"Oh, we'll get through; come ahead!" cried Dave. "If we don't reach
Carpen Falls to-night Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth will worry about us."

Feeling in somewhat better spirits after having eaten, and after having
had an opportunity to dry themselves, the tourists brought out their
automobiles again, and soon Simpson's Corners was left behind. They had
a long hill to climb, and then the road wound in and out among some
particularly rough rocks. Then they came out along the edge of a cliff
with a vast panorama of woods and waters below them.

"Oh, isn't it perfectly lovely!" cried Belle.

"If I'm not mistaken, Mirror Lake lies off in that direction," said
Dunston Porter, pointing with his hand. "That sheet of water away off
yonder may be it."

Leaving the cliff, the road wound in and out of the forest for a
distance of several miles. Then they came to another little valley, in
which the highway was wet and, in some spots, suspiciously spongy.

"Now then, Dave, be careful," warned his uncle. "We don't want to get
stuck if we can possibly help it."

"I'll do my best, Uncle Dunston," was the answer.

With the wheels sucking and sousing in the mud, the Wadsworth machine
moved forward as rapidly as the conditions would permit. Close behind
was the Basswood car, and this time Ben took care not to let the