The time passed quickly and soon the drive was over, and after calling for their well-filled luncheon-basket, the quartet returned to the repair shop to find Mr. Farrington all ready to start.

So into the car they all bundled, and Patty learned that each fresh start during a motor journey revives the same feeling of delight that is felt at the beginning of the trip.

She settled herself in her place with a little sigh of contentment, and remarked that she had already begun to feel at home in The Fact, and she only wished it was early morning, and they were starting for the day, instead of but for a few hours.

“Don’t you worry, my lady,” said Roger, as he laid his hands lightly on the steering-wheel, “you’ve a good many solid hours of travel ahead of you right now. It’s four o’clock, and if we reach Pine Branches by ten, I will pat this old car fondly on the head, before I put her to bed.”

The next few hours were perhaps the pleasantest they had yet spent. In June, from four to seven is a delightful time, and as the roads were perfect, and the car went along without the slightest jar or jolt, and without even a hint of an accident of any sort, there was really not a flaw to mar their pleasure.

As the sun set, and the twilight began to close around them, Patty thought she had never seen anything more beautiful than the landscape spread out before them. A broad white road stretched ahead like a ribbon. On either side were sometimes green fields, darkening in the fading light, and sometimes small groves of trees, which stood black against the sky.

Then the sunset’s colours faded, the trees grew blacker and denser, and their shadows ceased to fall across the darkening road.

Roger lighted the lamps, and drew out extra fur robes, for the evening air was growing chill.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” said Patty, almost in a whisper. “Motoring by daylight is gay and festive, but now, to glide along so swiftly and silently through the darkness, is so strange that it’s almost solemn. As it grows darker and blacker, it seems as if we were gliding away,—away into eternity.”

“For gracious’ sake, child,” said Mrs. Farrington, “don’t talk like that! You give me the shivers; say something more lively, quick!”

Patty laughed merrily.

“That was only a passing mood,” she said. “Really, I think it’s awfully jolly for us to be scooting along like this, with our lamps shining. We’re just like a great big fire-fly or a dancing will-o’-the-wisp.”

“You have a well-trained imagination, Patty,” said Mrs. Farrington, laughing at the girl’s quick change from grave to gay. “You can make it obey your will, can’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Patty demurely, “what’s the use of having an imagination, if you can’t make it work for you?”

The car was comfortably lighted inside as well as out, with electric lamps, and the occupants were, as Mr. Farrington said, as cozy and homelike as if they were in a gipsy waggon.

Patty laughed at the comparison and said she thought that very few gipsy waggons had the luxuries and modern appliances of The Fact.

“That may be,” said Mr. Farrington, “but you must admit the gipsy waggon is the more picturesque vehicle. The way they shirr that calico arrangement around their back door, has long been my admiration.”

“It is beautiful,” said Patty, “and the way the stove-pipe comes out of the roof,——”

“And the children’s heads out ’most anywhere,” added Elise; “yes, it’s certainly picturesque.”

“Speaking of gipsy waggons makes me hungry,” said Mrs. Farrington. “What time is it, and how soon shall we reach the Warners’?”

“It’s after eight o’clock, my dear,” said her husband, “and I’m sure we can’t get there before ten, and then, of course, we won’t have dinner at once, so do let us partake of a little light refreshment.”

“Seems to me we are always eating,” said Patty, “but I’m free to confess that I’m about as hungry as a full grown anaconda.”

Without reducing their speed, and they were going fairly fast, the tourists indulged in a picnic luncheon. There was no tea making, but sandwiches and little cakes and glasses of milk were gratefully accepted.

“This is all very well,” said Mrs. Farrington, after supper was over, “and I wouldn’t for a moment have you think that I’m tired or frightened, or the least mite timid. But if I may have my way, hereafter we’ll make no definite promises to be at any particular place at any particular time. I wish when you had telephoned, John, you had told the Warners that we wouldn’t arrive until to-morrow. Then we could have stopped somewhere, and spent the night like civilised beings, instead of doing this gipsy act.”

“It would have been a good idea,” said Mr. Farrington thoughtfully, “but it’s a bit too late now, so there’s no use worrying about it. But cheer up, my friend, I think we’ll arrive shortly.”

“I think we won’t,” said Roger. “I don’t want to be discouraging, but we haven’t passed the old stone quarry yet, and that’s a mighty long way this side of Pine Branches.”

“You’re sure you know the way, aren’t you, Roger?” asked his mother, her tone betraying the first trace of anxiety she had yet shown.

“Oh, yes,” said Roger, and Patty wasn’t sure whether she imagined it, or whether the boy’s answer was not quite as positive as it was meant to sound.

“Well, I’m glad you do,” said Mr. Farrington, “for I confess I don’t. We’re doubtless on the right road, but I haven’t as yet seen any familiar landmarks.”

“We’re on the right road, all right,” said Roger. “You know there’s a long stretch this side of Pine Branches, without any villages at all.”

“I know it,” said Mrs. Farrington, “but it is dotted with large country places, and farms. Are you passing those, Roger? I can’t seem to see any?”

“I haven’t noticed very many, Mother, but I think we haven’t come to them yet. Chirk up, it’s quite some distance yet, but we’ll keep going till we get there.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Farrington, “what if the belt should break, or something give way!”

“Don’t think of such things, Mother; nothing is going to give way. But if it should, why, we’ll just sit here till morning, and then we can see to fix it.”

Mrs. Farrington couldn’t help laughing at Roger’s good nature, but she said, “Of course, I know everything’s all right, and truly, I’m not a bit frightened. But somehow, John, I’d feel more comfortable if you’d come back here with me, and let one of the girls sit in front in your place.”

“Certainly,” said her husband, “hop over here, Elise.”

“Let me go,” cried Patty, who somehow felt, intuitively, that Elise would prefer to stay behind with her parents. As for Patty herself, she had no fear, and really wanted the exciting experience of sitting up in front during this wild night ride.

Roger stopped the car, and the change was soon effected. As Patty insisted upon it, she was allowed to go instead of Elise, and in a moment they were off again.

“Do you know,” said Patty to Roger, after they had started, “when I got out then, I felt two or three drops of rain!”

“I do know it,” said Roger, in a low tone, “and I may as well tell you, Patty, that there’s going to be a hard storm before long. Certainly before we reach Pine Branches.”

“How dreadful,” said Patty, who was awed more by the anxious note in Roger’s voice, than by the thought of the rain storm. “Don’t you think it would be better,” she went on, hoping to make a helpful suggestion, “if we should put in to some house until the storm is over? Surely anybody would give us shelter.”

“I don’t see any houses,” said Roger, “and, Patty, I may as well own up, we’re off the road somehow. I think I must have taken the wrong turning at that fork a few miles back. And though I’m not quite sure, yet I feel a growing conviction that we’re lost.”

Although the situation was appalling, for some unexplainable reason Patty couldn’t help giggling.

“Lost!” she exclaimed in a tragic whisper, “in the middle of the night! in a desolate country region! and a storm coming on!”

Patty’s dramatic summary of the situation made Roger laugh too. And their peals of gaiety reassured the three who sat behind.

“What are you laughing at?” said Elise; “I wish you’d tell me, for I’m ’most scared to death, and Roger, it’s beginning to rain.”

“You don’t say so!” said Roger, in a tone of polite surprise, “why then we must put on the curtains.” He stopped the car, and jumping down from his place, began to arrange the curtains which were always carried in case of rain.

Mr. Farrington helped him, and as he did so, remarked, “Looks like something of a storm, my boy.”

“Father,” said Roger, in a low voice, “it’s going to rain cats and dogs, and there may be a few thunders and lightnings. I hope mother won’t have hysterics, and I don’t believe she will, if you sit by her and hold her hand. I don’t think we’d better stop. I think we’d better drive straight ahead, but, Dad, I believe we’re on the wrong road. We’re not lost; I know the way all right, but to go around the way we are going, is about forty miles farther than the way I meant to go; and yet I don’t dare turn back and try to get on the other road again, for fear I’ll really get lost.”

“Roger,” said Mr. Farrington, “you’re a first-class chauffeur, and I’ll give you a reference whenever you want one, but I must admit that to-night you have succeeded in getting us into a pretty mess.”

Roger was grateful enough for the light way in which his father treated the rather serious situation, but the boy keenly felt his responsibility.

“Good old Dad,” he said, “you’re a brick! Get in back now, and look after mother and Elise. Don’t let them shoot me or anything, when I’m not looking. Patty is a little trump; she is plucky clear through, and I am glad to have her up in front with me. Now I’ll do the best I can, and drive straight through the storm. If I see any sort of a place where we can turn in for shelter, I think we’d better do it, don’t you?”

“I do, indeed,” said his father. “Meantime, my boy, go ahead. I trust the whole matter to you, for you’re a more expert driver than I am.”

It was already raining fast as the two men again climbed into the car. But the curtains all around kept the travellers dry, and with its cheery lights the interior of the car was cozy and pleasant.

In front was a curtain with a large window of mica which gave ample view of the road ahead.

With his strong and well-arranged lights, Roger had no fear of collision, and as they were well protected from the rain, his chief worriment was because they were on the wrong road.

“It’s miles and miles longer to go around this way,” he confided to Patty. “I don’t know what time we’ll ever get there.”

“Never mind,” said Patty, who wanted to cheer him up. “I think this is a great experience. I suppose there’s danger, but somehow I can’t help enjoying the wild excitement of it.”

“I’m glad you like it,” said Roger a little grimly. “I’m always pleased to entertain my guests.”

The storm was increasing, and now amounted to a gale. The rain dashed against the curtains in great wet sheets, and finally forced its way in at a few of the crevices.

Mrs. Farrington, sitting between her husband and daughter, was thoroughly frightened and extremely uncomfortable, but she pluckily refrained from giving way to her nervousness, and succeeded in behaving herself with real bravery and courage.

Still the tempest grew. So wildly did it dash against the front curtain that Patty and Roger could see scarcely a foot before the machine.

“There’s one comfort,” said Roger, through his clenched teeth, “we’re not in danger of running into anything, for no other fools would be abroad such a night as this. Patty, I’m going to speed her! I’m going to race the storm!”

“Do!” said Patty, who was wrought up to a tense pitch of excitement by the war of the elements without, and the novelty of the situation within.

Roger increased the speed, and they flew through the black night and dashed into the pouring rain, while Patty held her breath, and wondered what would happen next.

On they went and on. Patty’s imagination kept pace with her experiences and through her mind flitted visions of Tam O’Shanter’s ride, John Gilpin’s ride and the ride of Collins Graves. But all of these seemed tame affairs beside their own break-neck speed through the wild night!

“Roger,” said his mother, “Roger, won’t you please——”

“Ask her not to speak to me just now, Patty, please,” said the boy, in such a tense, strained voice that Patty was frightened at last, but she knew that if Roger were frightened, that was a special reason for her own calmness and bravery. Turning slightly, she said, “Please don’t speak to him just now, Mrs. Farrington; he wants to put all his attention on his steering.”

“Very well,” said Mrs. Farrington, who had not the slightest idea that there was any cause for alarm, aside from the discomfort of the storm. “I only wanted to tell him to watch out for railroad trains.”

And then Patty realised that that was just what Roger was looking out for! She could not see ahead into the blinding rain, but she knew they were going down hill. She heard what seemed like the distant whistle of a locomotive, and suddenly realising that Roger could not stop the car and must cross the track before the train came, she thought at the same moment that if Mrs. Farrington should impulsively reach over and grasp the boy’s arm, or anything like that, it might mean terrible disaster.

Acting upon a quick impulse to prevent this, she turned round herself, and with a voice whose calmness surprised her, she said, “Please, Mrs. Farrington, could you get me a sandwich out of the basket?”

“Bless you, no, child!” said that lady, her attention instantly diverted by Patty’s ruse. “That is, I don’t believe I can, but I’ll try.”

Patty was far from wanting a sandwich, but she felt that she had at least averted the possible danger of Mrs. Farrington’s suddenly clutching Roger, and as she turned back to face the front, the great car whizzed across the slippery railroad track, just as Patty saw the headlight of a locomotive not two hundred feet away from them.

“Oh, Roger,” she breathed, clasping her hands tightly, lest she herself should touch the boy, and so interfere with his steering.

“It’s all right, Patty,” said Roger in a breathless voice, and as she looked at his white face, she realised the danger they had so narrowly escaped.

Those in the back seat could not see the train, and the roar of the storm drowned its noise.

“Patty,” said Roger, very softly, “you saved us! I understood just what you did. I felt sure Mother was going to grab at me, when she heard that whistle. It’s a way she has, when she’s nervous or frightened, and I can’t seem to make her stop it. But you saved the day with your sandwich trick, and if ever we get in out of the rain, I’ll tell you what I think of you!”