of being towed in, even if there never was a thing the matter with her," says he.

"And you ought to've seen Phil! Never saw him appear so broken up! Honest, I just hurt from holding in when the three of them drove by us, as if they thought they were 'it,' hollering out, 'Give ye a lift?' in that sarcastic way of Pick's! And when they were 'way past, maybe I didn't laugh!"

Paul Jones was the speaker, strapping a suitcase to the car's running board as he talked. Billy Worth and Dave MacLester were occupied in the rearrangement of a lot of other baggage, the canvas of a tent among the rest, in the tonneau. The car stood just outside a large frame building in the rear of the Yorkshire House, the principal hotel of Littleton.

A combined livery stable and garage was this frame structure, if one judged by appearances, for it housed both horse-drawn vehicles and automobiles. Of the latter there were three—two runabouts and a light touring car. The Auto Boys' machine appeared to have been kept here over night. By their further conversation it was evident, too, that the young gentlemen themselves had remained over night in the Yorkshire House, and into that hostelry they repaired a few minutes later for an exceptionally early breakfast.

"Too early for any earthly use. I don't see no sense in it," the not fastidiously tidy cook of the establishment stated at least five or six times to the maid who waited on table; and who, it may be added, quite agreed with him until she found a nickel tied in the corner of each napkin after the very early guests had left. As a matter of fact, it was exactly five o'clock.

And now again, if Mr. Thomas Pickton, still sound asleep in his bed at home, had been watching the Auto Boys, as he had stated would be faithfully done to-day, he would have saved himself and friends a rather humiliating disappointment at a later time. But, as has also been plainly indicated, Pick, with all his hawk-like eyes, saw nothing of what was taking place, and as Freddy Perth and Soapy Gaines were not a whit more wide awake than he at this hour of five A. M., the well-laden Thirty with its four owners aboard purred merrily westward, farther and farther from the small town of appropriate name, and farther yet from Lannington.

"Guess they have to get up in the morning some to get ahead of us," observed Mr. Paul Jones, with a sigh of satisfaction. And it would certainly appear that he was right, though he did rub his eyes considerably and though his sigh stretched out to the extent of a great yawn only a few seconds later.

Thus was the Auto Boys' Quest under way at last. Away back at the great, empty farmhouse where Grandfather Beaman once lived, the first plans for this trip had been laid. Those of you who have read The Auto Boys' Outing will recall the circumstances. You will remember the days of zestful fun and tranquil rest the lads had, following the solution of the mystery of the strange characters on Grandfather Beaman's wooden leg, the disclosure of Jonas Tagg's evil designs and the discovery of the identity of "Little Mystery."

And do you recollect the pleasant evenings on the old front door step? There it was that the trip to the great Ship woods was first suggested, and there it was that the solemn agreement, making the whole expedition a secret, was entered into.

Going back a little farther, it will not be necessary to remind readers of The Auto Boys, the first story of this series, that for purely business reasons the four friends had made it a practice not to talk publicly of their joint ventures. Even the "Retreat" in Gleason's Ravine, was known to few outside the immediate families of the boys. Just how they had managed, as the "Young American Contract Company," to acquire their automobile and start the passenger service to Star Lake, with all the exciting adventures resulting therefrom, was, likewise, a subject the young men did not publicly discuss, although of course the main facts had in time become quite commonly known.

One reason the four chums were so successful in confining within the limits of their respective households and to their very nearest friends knowledge of their plans and undertakings was that there was nothing of the braggart in any of them. Phil Way, usually the leader in their various ventures, whether for purposes of fun or business, was a tall, slender, brown-haired, clear-eyed and mild-mannered chap. At the time of the history herein related he is well past fifteen years of age. His father is a physician, by no means rich, but in very comfortable circumstances.

Billy Worth, fun-loving and jolly, but an earnest young fellow, too, is a little younger than Phil and in general appearance quite his opposite, being short and stout. Yet let none suppose that that stocky frame of his carries an ounce of anything but bone, muscle and good, red blood—good, red blood that glows in his cheeks, and helps to place that alert, snappy expression in his twinkling brown eyes. So much for William Worth, Junior. William Worth, Senior, it may be stated, is engaged in machinery manufacturing.

A member of this quartette of friends I am sure you will like is Paul Jones—slight, slender, audacious. He has been in long trousers less than a year. He wears his motor cap far back on his head and rakishly low on one side. His sandy hair, thus quite prominently exposed to view, is in a more or less tousled condition a greater part of the time. Of a care-free disposition is young Mr. Jones, however, and the rumpled state of his hair bothers him not at all. It was brushed this morning, and, "Goodness, gracious! Can you expect a man's hair always to be just so?" Why, probably not. Then again, a good deal depends on the "man."

Forgive a great deal to Paul. If he lacks something in general refinement and polish as compared to the other boys, it is because his advantages have not equaled theirs. Being an orphan, he has missed much his friends have received, though Mrs. Wilby, his sister, and John Wilby, her husband, have given the otherwise homeless lad the best their limited time and means afford.

Dave MacLester is of still another type. Nearly as tall as Phil, he is much heavier. He lacks the power of quick perception and quick movements common to his three friends, but outranks any one of them in strength. He is a dark-haired chap of Scotch descent and if he is just a little slow, he is at least sure. His fault, if fault it may be called, is a certain moodiness of disposition, apt to reveal itself at times in his hopeless, pessimistic view of things. Maybe it would be more accurate to describe this characteristic as his misfortune. He is at fault in regard to it only to the extent that he neglects or fails to strive against his naturally gloomy or irritated mental condition, and, so eventually grow entirely away from it.

One interesting fact about all the boys is the bond of union among them. Petty differences have arisen scores of times, of course; wordy disputes have occurred less frequently; but for a long, long time the four have been almost inseparable, both in work and in play, their unwritten motto being, "the best interests of one are the best interests of all." Unselfishly every pleasure is shared, and uncomplainingly in every task and duty each fellow does his share.

The escape from the watchful eyes of Soapy Gaines and his followers with the car and its load of baggage for this present expedition was brought about only because each one of the four worked in faithful harmony with the general plan. What this plan was, has already become apparent.

That the towing in of the Thirty to Knight & Wilder's garage was but a pretense to throw the Trio off their guard, you have probably guessed from the beginning. It would be interesting, perhaps, to hear at length how Billy and Dave rushed the automobile to the home garage upon receiving word by 'phone that the Gaines party had been lured into the ball game and forgetfulness, but more important matters are waiting.

Let this part