: The Rambler Club's motor car by Sheppard W Crispin William Crispin - Mystery and detective stories; Automobile travel Juvenile fiction; Chicago (Ill.) Juvenile fiction; Boys Societies and clubs Juvenile fiction; Wisconsin Juvenile fiction

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"I don't care what you say, Brandon; that's the way I figure it out. Anyway, if that long-legged Indian did engineer it"--he flourished his fists savagely--"he'll stop a few of these!"

"There isn't any reason to it. That Clifton fellow has just turned the trick; he's getting square for some of the true things I said about him."

"Nothing of the sort," said Dave.

"Oh, I reckon you'll stand up for that grand and perfect Clifton. Honest, though, I didn't think the sly, foxy Indian would do Brownie up brown like this."

Dave, refusing to countenance such an idea, propounded theory after theory, each of which his companion promptly rejected.

"There's no use talking, Brandon," he exclaimed, at length. "I declare, I'm mad enough to punch his head off. The yacht's gone; the gasoline tank's gone; and we're here in Kenosha."

"And I'm likely to stay for some time to come, unless the fellows turn up."

The worried expression on the historian's face gave place to a broad grin.

"Why?" demanded Victor.

"Because I'm stranded--broke--cast into the seething vortex of life without gold, silver, nickel, or even copper to lend me a helping hand."

"How in the dickens did such a thing as that happen?"

"It's this way, Vic: after I'd paid my way out to Chicago I didn't have a red cent left. So I was obliged to throw myself on the tender mercies of the crowd until we reach Milwaukee."

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