Steve was not beyond the age of enthusiasm; Terry was
all atingle. Life was shaping itself to an adventure.
And so, though it appeared that all of the time in the world was theirs
for loitering--for it should be a simple matter to come to Red Creek
well in advance of Blenham and his dupe--Terry yielded to her
excitement, Steve yielded out of hand to the lure of Terry, and, quite
gay about it, they sped away through the moonlight. While Terry,
driver, perforce kept her eyes busied with the road, Steve Packard
leaned back in his seat and contented himself with the vision of his
fellow adventurer.
"Terry Temple," he told her emphatically and utterly sincerely, "you
are absolutely the prettiest thing I ever saw."
"I'm not a thing," said Terry. "And besides, I know it already.
And----"
Then it was that they got their first puncture; a worn tire cut through
by a sharp fragment of rock so that they heard the air gush out
windily. Terry jammed on her brakes. Steve jumped out and made hasty
examination.
"Looks like a man had gone after it with a hand-ax," he announced
cheerfully. "Good thing you've got a spare."
Terry flung down from her seat impatiently.
"I need some new tires," she said, as she from one side and he from the
other began seeking in the tool-box under the seat for jack and wrench.
"That spare is soft, too, and half worn through; I'll bet we get more
than one puncture before the job's done.
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