corners of Miss Campbell’s lips drooped and she gave a pathetic smile.

“It would, dearest Billie, I am sure it would appear to me in all its true glory if I wasn’t so—so very hungry.”

Hungry! Here was a solution of this great depression. They were all of them famished with hunger. Not a decent meal had they eaten for two days. It was hunger gnawing at their vitals that had plunged them into the very depths of homesickness.

In the automobile was a complete outfit for cooking, a little alcohol stove and various dainty little utensils made of aluminum, all a rather costly present from their old friend, Mr. Ignatius Donahue, which he had sent, on being informed of the great journey of the Motor Maids across the continent.

“Have a piece of chocolate and a graham cracker, Miss Campbell?” Mary was asking in a tone of sympathy.

“Heavens, no, child,” replied the little lady as near to being cross as she had ever been in her life. “Don’t offer me such rubbish, as a substitute for good beefsteak and coffee that’s really coffee?”

“Let’s set up housekeeping,” cried Billie, “and start in ten minutes by stopping at the next farm house for supplies!”

“Why not?” echoed her disciple, Nancy. “We’ve got the alcohol stove with two burners and Elinor’s tea basket and some china besides.”

“That’s a very sensible idea,” said Miss Campbell, her spirits rising at the suggestion. “I feel, if I could get something tasteful to eat, I might be able to support existence across the plains and the mountains and through the forests, but just at present, I—well, I assure you, I am quite empty.”

“We have some things, remember,” put in Mary. “Mr. Donahue’s box had bacon in it and lots of jam and potted cheese——”

“I think some fresh eggs would be acceptable,” observed Miss Campbell.

Billie turned the Comet in at a patent gate which could be operated from the vehicle. Giving a rope which dangled from the horizontal pole a jerk the gate swung back on its groove. They rolled onto a macadamized driveway leading up to the farm buildings.

“One farm’s as good as another,” announced Billie, as she gave the rope on the other side of the gate a vigorous pull. But something had got twisted and it refused to return to its natural position. Billie and Nancy jumped out and tried to push the gate, but their united efforts were unavailing. They swung on the rope together, when suddenly, snap, it broke and they both tumbled backward in a laughing heap. They were still giggling and brushing the dust from their clothes when a strange looking vehicle came into the avenue and stopped beside them. It seemed to be composed chiefly of a seat, two rubber tired wheels and a shaft with no place particularly to rest the feet. Hitched to this peculiar conveyance was a beautiful high-stepping thoroughbred horse, and on the rather precarious seat very near to the horse’s tail sat a sunburned young farmer dressed in a brown corduroy suit and leather leggings. He had a ruddy face, humorous blue eyes and close-cropped hair.

“Anything I can do for you, ladies?” he asked, holding the prancing horse with a tight rein.

“I—I’m afraid we have broken your gate,” answered Billie. “We are sorry, but you see we aren’t used to gates like this, and I think it went back too suddenly.”

The young man smiled good naturedly.

“It’s only slipped its trolley,” he said. “If one of you could hold Pocohontas for me, I’ll fix it in a second.”

Billie stood at Pocohontas’ head, rather proud of the office, such a beautiful mare was this thoroughbred with her quivering nostrils and arched neck, while the farmer lifted the gate into its groove.

“You are driving up to the house?” he asked politely.

“Yes,” replied Miss Campbell. “We wondered if we could make a few purchases there?”

“Of horses or cattle?”

“Oh, dear me, no,” she answered, her pink cheeks deepening to a rosier hue. “Only food. Fresh eggs and cream and fresh butter, and perhaps a young chicken, if you have any tender ones, and fresh bread, too.”

Her appetite was growing as she recounted her desires in the way of food.

The young man smiled most delightfully.

“We have all those things, I believe,” he replied, “for use at the house. Do you live near here?”

“No, no. We live some thousand and more miles away from here. We are taking a motor trip across the continent, but since we left Chicago, we—we have suffered a little from hunger——”

Miss Campbell’s voice was slightly tremulous.

There was a pause, and then the four girls burst out laughing. The young farmer joined in heartily.

“In fact, sir,” went on Miss Campbell, smiling sweetly on the young man, “we are very hungry.”

“That is really too bad,” he exclaimed, making an effort to compose his face. “These country hotels are dreadful, I know from experience. If you had only visited private houses, I am sure you would have been well fed. But, if you will just go up to the house, I will follow and we’ll see what can be done in the way of provisions.”

It was evident that Pocohontas did not care for the Comet. She curvetted and circled around and stood on her hind legs in a most alarming manner. Suddenly, with a wild neigh, she made for the open field at one side of the road. Her driver, taken by surprise, was thrown backward. It was an easy fall on soft turf, and no harm would have been done if his foot had not got caught in a loop on the reins and, to their horror, they saw him dragged after the sulky, in danger of being killed at any moment.

Giving the motor car a sharp turn, Billie put on all speed and followed the runaway. In another instant they had covered the width of the field, some distance above Pocohontas’ mad course. With a bound, Billie leaped to the ground, and as the mare came tearing up, the young girl jumped at her bridle, caught it with one hand, was dragged a few feet, then seized it with the other, and held on with all her might. Pocohontas was a small horse, and not difficult to curb, once her reins were in a good grip. She stopped, reared back, and then stood perfectly still, quivering all over in a state of palsied excitement.

Miss Campbell had shrieked and covered her face with her hands to shut out the dreadful sight of Billie being trampled to death. But Billie had a cool head and a brave heart, and such excellent qualities make a wonderful combination. The other girls jumped out of the car and hastened to the farmer, while across the fields farm hands came running from every direction.

The young man had only lost consciousness for a moment, and when his foot was disentangled from that diabolical loop, he was able to stagger to his feet.

“Are you much hurt, Mr. Moore,” demanded two of the men supporting him on either side, while two others relieved Billie of the excitable Pocohontas.

“Only a sprain,” he answered. “This brave young lady has saved my life.”

“I’m afraid our motor car caused all the trouble,” exclaimed Billie. She never said “my motor car.” Her friends often noticed this. But she had been brought up by a very genuine and fine man, and was as modest and simple as her father himself.

“You had better get into the car and let us take you home,” said Miss Campbell who had recovered from her fright.

For the second time since they left Chicago, they now found themselves giving a