Nobody spoke of the cloud. It seemed to be a question of honor with them not to mention it, but they hurried on silently, and in a few minutes reached the automobile.
With a sigh of relief, the four girls were about to jump in, while Ben cranked up, when suddenly Nancy gave a little, pent-up scream.
“Look!” she cried, pointing to a piece of paper stuck on the cushion of the back seat.
This message was printed with a lead pencil on the paper:
“It was that man,” said Billie, examining the tires ruefully, each one of which had been slashed with a sharp knife.
“Billie, can you put on new tires?” demanded Ben, somewhat anxiously, making a mental determination to learn all about the mechanism of motor cars before he went on another motor trip.
The others stood back rather helplessly. Merry, especially, felt stupid and uncomfortable in having to stand aside and let a girl do all the work.
“Of course, I can,” replied Billie, trying to speak cheerfully, as a low cannonading of thunder rumbled in the distance. “I have done it dozens of times, only it will take time, of course. The tools are under the seat. Hustle up, everybody. Charlie, you get the new tires. Ben, you help me.”
In a few moments Ben and Billie were kneeling on the ground adjusting the tire of the first wheel, while Charlie and Merry were engaged in examining the extra tires, which the motor carried in case of accident, and Percy made himself as useful as possible, unpacking all the wraps, Billie’s oilskin coat and cap and the rubber blankets.
“Billie,” announced Charlie, “there are only three good tires here. The fourth has a puncture. It’s only a small one, but——”
“I know,” interrupted Billie, looking extremely worried. “It was an imperfect one. I may be able to patch it.”
Then Charlie and Merry held a whispered conference and disappeared around the bluff.
“What’s up?” asked Ben, looking over his shoulder at their retreating figures.
But nobody could answer the question. The girls were getting into their ulsters and Percy was arranging the rubber blankets and rugs in the car.
“What a confoundedly low, mean trick of that fellow to do this,” he kept saying to himself, keeping one eye on the black clouds piling up and the other on Billie and Ben. He figured that it would take an hour and a half at least to get all four tires on and, he thought, Billie would be a pretty smart girl to do it that quickly. It was half-past three o’clock.