Read Ebook: The Rambler Club's motor car by Sheppard W Crispin William Crispin

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Ebook has 1571 lines and 38097 words, and 32 pages

"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."

"Isn't this all another joke?" queried Victor, suspiciously.

"Not a bit of it, Vic."

"Well, if they've been lending you cash how is it you're broke?"

"I was going to get another five from Bob this morning."

Victor's eyes began to twinkle. Then, like a flash, his mood completely changed. A wide grin merged into a laugh; his slender form shook with a perfect storm of merriment, while Benjamin, from the doorway, looked on with wondering eyes.

"My, oh my, but don't I feel sorry for you, Brownie!" he gasped, between another succession of outbursts. "Broke? Gee! I'll bet you are just shaking in your shoes."

Dave smiled calmly.

"Maybe so, Vic," he returned, good-naturedly. "Perhaps our stay in Kenosha may add more pages to my history than I anticipated."

To Victor's mind there was something extremely comical in Dave Brandon's unexpected situation. His face now actually beamed. Things were at last breaking in a way to suit him. Without a move on his part, events had so shaped themselves that at least one member of the Rambler Club was likely to come tumbling down several pegs in a hurry.

Victor wasn't really such a bad chap. He simply possessed an over-supply of the weaknesses of human nature, which had been fostered--unintentionally, of course--by a too-indulgent parent.

"I'll lend the big Indian just as much of the cash as he wants," reflected the boy, "but he'll have to get off his high perch and ask me for it. Gee, won't I laugh when the great depending-upon-himself fellow hollers for help!"

In a moment, slapping Dave on the shoulder, he said:

"What are you going to do?"

"Go back to the hotel. Perhaps Tom may have left some message for us."

"Well, I don't believe it."

With a sigh, Dave started off.

"It won't be any 'Tempest in a teapot' when I get hold of Wyoming Tom," said Victor, decidedly; "and don't you forget it."

"Dar am sartingly somethin' queer 'bout dat dar bunch," murmured Benjamin Rochester, shaking his head knowingly.

When the two arrived at the hotel the clerk told them that Tom had left no message.

"Of course the tall Indian didn't!" exclaimed the smaller lad.

To his astonishment, Dave ambled slowly into the reception room and took a seat.

"I say, Brownie," remarked Victor, "I'm going out to get some grub."

"Hope you'll enjoy it," came an easy response.

"Why in thunder doesn't he ask?" thought Victor. Then, aloud, he added:

"Aren't you hungry, Brownie?"

"Sure, Vic; always am."

"Coming, then?"

"Can't!"

"Why not?"

"For obvious reasons, my dear sir."

"Humph! Wants me to offer it to him. Not on your life!" was another of Victor's reflections. "How are you going to manage, Brandon?"

"Time will tell, Vic."

The Chicago boy stood, irresolute; his better nature prompted him to offer assistance. But the slights Victor imagined he had suffered suddenly flashed into his mind.

"No; I won't do it. If the duffer is too all-fired proud to speak up he'll get out of his fix the best way he can."

"No use to wait for me, Vic," said Dave.

"Just as you say, Brandon. So-long!"

Once outside the room, however, Victor's conscience smote him. He walked back and poked his head inside the doorway. "I'll give him another chance," he said to himself.

"Say, Brandon, what's your program?"

"Time will tell, Vic," responded the stout boy.

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