He drove around into the road where the car was standing and right up to it and then got out. The flivver looked awful funny alongside it.

“Some Cadillac!” he said.

“Isn’t it a peachy car?” Pee-wee asked him. “Isn’t it a beaut? Look at those shock-absorbers. Feel the leather on those seats—boy, boy!” Gee whiz, you’d think the kid was trying to sell the car.

“Very snifty,” Brent said.

“It’s only four months old,” Pee-wee said.

“Maybe that’s the reason it hasn’t learned to walk yet,” Brent told him. “Well, we’ll take a squint.”

Brent opened the hood while the rest of us piled into the car.

“You can’t make it go,” Skinny piped up; “if Harry couldn’t, you can’t.”

you

“What do you bet?” Brent said.

“You can’t,” Skinny said.

I don’t know what Brent did to the motor, but pretty soon he closed the hood, whistling to himself all the while, and got into the car. All of a sudden, br, br, br, br, br, she was purring away like an old cat.

“What do you say now?” he began laughing. Poor little Skinny didn’t have anything to say.

“What did you do to it?” I asked.

“Just smiled at it,” Brent said; “the scout smile always wins.”

Believe me, we were all too surprised to speak.

“Any of you kids know how to run a Ford?” Brent asked us.

“Sure, Grove does,” we said. Because they have a flivver at Grove’s house.

“I haven’t got any license,” Grove said.

“All right, hop in there and follow us,” Brent told him; “we’ll move along and meet them and save them a walk.”

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