as he stopped to rest for a moment.

“Lucky if we get there in time for supper,” muttered Jim. “We’ll have to go somewhere and borrow a shovel so that we can dig the wheels out of the mud.”

But just at this moment they heard the rumbling of a cart, and running to the road they saw it coming, drawn by two stout horses, while the driver sat handling the reins in leisurely fashion.

They waved their hands and the cart came to a halt, the driver scanning curiously the two young men who had appeared so unexpectedly from the side of the road. He was a bluff, jovial person, and his eyes twinkled with amusement as he noted the wet garments that were clinging to their limbs.

“Been taking a bath with all your clothes on?” he asked, as he got down from his seat.

“Something like that,” replied Joe, with a laugh, “but the bath came as a sort of surprise party. The road was blocked, and it was either the morgue or the river for us, so we chose the river.”

“Road blocked?” repeated the newcomer, looking about with a puzzled expression. “I don’t get you. Looks clear enough to me.”

“It wouldn’t if you’d been here half an hour ago,” replied Joe, and then, as the man listened with interest that soon changed to indignation, he recounted briefly the events of the morning.

“Whoever did that ought to be jailed,” he burst out, when the boys had concluded their story. “And he can’t be very far away, either. This road was clear when I passed over it last night. Jump in and I’ll drive you into town and we can send out an alarm.”

“Not much use of that I’m afraid,” replied Joe. “The man or men may be fifty miles away by this time. But if you’ll give us a hand to get this auto out of the mud, you’ll do us a big favor.”

“Sure I’ll help you,” said the friend in need, whose name they learned was Thompson. “I’ve got a spade right here in the cart. We’ll dig around the wheels a little. Then I’ll hitch a trace chain to the machine and my horses will yank it out in a jiffy.”

A few minutes of work sufficed to clear the wheels. Then boards were placed behind them, the chain was attached to the rear axle, and the horses drew the car back into the road.

It presented rather a forlorn appearance, but the boys cared little for that. What they were far more concerned about was their own bedraggled condition.

“We match the car all right,” remarked Jim disgustedly, as he looked at his own clothes and those of his companion.

“It will never do to let Mabel and Clara see us like this,” responded Joe lugubriously.

“Don’t let that worry you,” laughed their new friend. “Just drive into town and stop at Eph Allen’s tailor shop. It’s pretty early, but Eph sleeps in the back of his shop and he’ll let you in and fix you up in no time.”

This was evidently the best thing to be done, and the young men, after repeated thanks to their newly made friend and with fullest directions as to how to find the tailor shop in question, jumped into the auto and started on the way back to Hebron.

“Old bus seems to work as well as ever,” commented Joe, as the car moved on without any visible evidence of injury.

“That’s one bit of good luck,” replied Jim. “And it’s certainly coming to us to make up in part for the bad.”

They thanked their stars that it was too early yet for many people to be stirring in the town, and were relieved when they found themselves in front of Allen’s shop. Eph must have been a pretty sound sleeper, for it took a good deal of knocking to wake him up, and when at last he thrust his tousled head through the door to ask what was wanted, he was not in the best of temper. But as soon as he learned the circumstances that had occasioned the early call, he became at once all interest and attention, and hustled about to put their clothes in presentable shape.

It was a fairly good job that he at length turned out after he had ironed and pressed their suits, though they had by no means the Beau Brummel effect with which the boys had planned to impress the girls.

By this time the sun had fully risen and Joe looked at his watch.

“Perhaps we’ll be in time to catch them at breakfast yet,” he remarked. “It’s only about twenty miles from here to Riverside. Maybe they won’t be surprised when we break in on them. They don’t think we’re within several hundred miles of them.”

“Perhaps we ought to have telegraphed that we were coming,” said Jim.

“It might have been just as well, I suppose,” admitted Joe. “But that would have taken away the fun of the surprise. I want to see the look on their faces.”

“Of course we won’t say anything about what happened to us this morning,” suggested Jim, as the machine bowled along over a road that with every minute that passed was growing more familiar.

“Not on your life,” replied Joe earnestly. “None of them would ever have another easy minute. They’d be seeing our mangled remains every night in their dreams. All we’ll tell them is that we had a little spill and got wet. But not a word about the blocked road or what we suspect regarding Braxton.”

Before long they were passing the straggling houses that marked the outskirts of Riverside. Joe pulled his cap down over his eyes so that he would not be recognized and stopped by any of the people of the town, where he was regarded as something of an idol. All he wanted to do was to get to his family and Mabel, or, as perhaps he would have put it, get to Mabel and his family.

His ruse was successful, for there was no sign of recognition from the few he passed on the streets, and in a few minutes he brought the car to a stop in front of the Matson home.

The young men jumped out, and with Joe leading the way ran lightly up the steps. He tried the front door and found that it yielded to his touch. With his finger on his lips as a warning to Jim, he tiptoed softly through the hall to the door of the dining room.

The odor of coffee and bacon came to them and from the click of plates and cups, as well as the murmur of several voices, they knew that the family was still at the breakfast table.

Joe waited no longer but threw open the door.

“Hello, folks!” he cried.

CHAPTER III
REGGIE TURNS UP

If Joe had counted upon producing a surprise, his success surpassed his wildest expectations.

At first there was a second of paralyzed silence. Then there was a wild hubbub of delighted cries, as four figures started up from the table and launched themselves upon the stalwart figure that stood framed in the doorway.

“Joe!” “Mabel!” “Clara!” “Momsey!” “Dad!” “Jim!” The names were repeated in quick succession and were punctuated with hugs and kisses.

In a moment Joe had his right arm around Mabel, his left about his mother, while Clara had thrown her arms about his neck and his father was attempting to get hold of one of his hands. There was no doubt of the warmth of that welcome.