"Say, that's tough--only four!" exclaimed Herb, in mock sympathy. "What will you ever do until lunch time, I wonder?"

"I'm wondering the same thing myself; but I'm used to suffering whenever I'm with you fellows, so I suppose I'll have to grin and bear it somehow."

"I don't see why you didn't bring some more, while you were about it,"

complained Bob. "You might have known that wouldn't be half enough."

"It will be a long time before I buy any more for you Indians, you can bet your last dollar on that," said Jimmy, in an aggrieved voice.

"You've been going to school a number of years, now, but you still don't know what 'grat.i.tude' means."

"The only one that should be grateful is yourself, Doughnuts," Joe a.s.sured him. "You know if you had eaten that whole bag full of doughnuts that you'd have been heading a funeral to-morrow or next day. It's lucky you have us around to save you from yourself."

While Jimmy was still framing an indignant reply to this there was a loud report, and the driver quickly brought the big car to a halt.

"Blowout," he remarked laconically, walking around to view a shoe that was flat beyond the possibility of doubt. It was not an unmixed evil to the boys, however, for they welcomed the chance to get out and stretch their cramped muscles. They helped the driver jack up the wheel and change shoes, and in a short time they were ready to proceed.

Back they climbed into their places, and with a rasp of changing gears they were on their way once more.

Braxton Woods lay something over a hundred miles from Clintonia, but the roads were good most of the way, and they had planned to reach their destination that evening. When they had covered sixty miles of the distance, Mr. Fennington consented to stop for the lunch for which the boys had been clamoring for some time. They took their time over the meal, building a fire and cooking steak and frying potatoes.

"Gee, this was a feast fit for a king!" exclaimed Jimmy, when it was over.

The boys lay down on the newly sprouted gra.s.s, but had hardly got settled when the driver, who appeared restless, summoned them to proceed.

"We've got a long way to go yet," he said, "and the last fifteen miles are worse than all the rest of the trip put together. The road is mostly clay and rocks, and at this time of year it's apt to be pretty wet. I don't want to have to drive it after dark."

Mr. Fennington was also anxious to get on, so their rest was a brief one, and they were soon on their way again.

The radio boys laughed and sang, cracked jokes, and waved to pa.s.sing cars, while the mileage record on the speedometer mounted steadily up.

The sun was still quite a way above the western horizon when they reached the place where the forest road branched off from the main highway. The driver tackled this road cautiously, and they soon found that his description of it had not been overdrawn. It was a narrow trail, in most places not wide enough for two cars to pa.s.s, and they wondered what would happen should they meet another car going in the opposite direction. But in the whole fifteen miles they met only one other motor, and fortunately that was at a wide place in the road.

The scent of spring and growing things was strong in the air, and compensated somewhat for the atrocious road. The boys were often tossed high in the air as the car b.u.mped over logs and stones, or came up with a lurch out of some deep hole. But they hung on to each other, or whatever else was most convenient, and little minded the rough going.

After one particularly vicious lunge, however, the heavy car came down with a slam, and there was a sharp noise of snapping steel. With a muttered exclamation the driver brought his car to a halt and climbed out.

"Just as I thought!" he exclaimed. "A spring busted, and the nearest garage twenty miles away. Now we're up against it for fair!"

"Do you mean that we can't go on?" asked Mr. Fennington anxiously. "It will be dark in another hour."

"I know it will," replied the chauffeur. "But what can we do about it?"

"Can't we make a temporary repair?" suggested Bob. "We can't have much further to go now."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions, young fellow," growled the driver. "If you can tell me how to fix this boiler up, go to it. It's more than I can do."

Bob and the others made a thorough examination of the damage, and they were not long in concocting a plan. Bob had brought with him a small but very keen-edged ax, and it was the work of only a few minutes to cut a stout limb about six inches in diameter from a tree.

With this, and a coil of heavy rope that was carried in the car for emergencies, they proceeded to make the temporary repair.

CHAPTER XVI

PUT TO THE TEST

First of all the boys trimmed the branch to a length slightly greater than the distance between axle and axle of the car. Then, near each end, they cut a notch about two inches deep, one to fit over the front and one over the rear axle. Next they placed the branch in position, and with the heavy rope lashed it securely into position. Thus the front and rear axles were kept at the proper distance from each other, and, moreover, the side of the car that was over the broken spring could rest on the stout pole.

The driver, who at first had watched their efforts with a derisive grin, took their plan more seriously as he realized the scheme, and now he examined the completed job with an air of surprised respect.

"I've got to admit that that looks as though it might do the trick," he admitted, at length. "I've seen a lot of roadside repairs in my time, but blest if that hasn't got 'em all beat. I'll take it at slow speed the rest of the way, and we'll see if it will stand up long enough to get us in."

And get them in it did, in spite of much creaking and groaning and b.u.mping.

The automobile drew up before a long one-story building, constructed roughly but substantially of unpainted boards. Supper was being served, and they were just in time to partake of a typical lumber camp meal. The big table was laden with huge joints of meat, platters of biscuits and vegetables, while strong, black coffee was served in abundance. After this plates of doughnuts were pa.s.sed around, greatly to Jimmy's delight, and for once he could eat all he wanted with n.o.body to criticize, for the lumbermen were no tyros at this sort of thing, and packed away food in quant.i.ties and at a speed that made the boys gape.

"Gee!" exclaimed Bob, after they had emerged into the balmy spring air outside, "I used to think that Jimmy could eat; but he can't even make the qualifying heats with this crowd. You're outcla.s.sed, Doughnuts, beyond the chance of argument."

"I don't see but what I'll have to admit it," sighed his rotund friend.

"But I don't care. It seems like Heaven to be in a place where they serve doughnuts like that. There's none of this 'do-have-a-doughnut'

business. Some big husky pa.s.ses you a platter with about a hundred on it and says, 'dig in, young feller.' Those are what I call sweet sounding words."

"And you dug, all right," remarked Joe, grinning. "I saw you clean one platter off all by your lonesome--at least, you came pretty near it," he qualified, with some last lingering regard for the truth.

"I didn't anything of the kind! But I only wish I could," lamented Jimmy.

"Never mind, Doughnuts, n.o.body can deny that you did your best," laughed Herb. "After you've had a little practice with this crowd, I'll back you against their champion eater any day."

"So would I," said Bob. "We've often talked about entering Jimmy in a pie-eating contest, but I never before thought we could find anybody who would even stand a chance with him. Up here, though, there's some likely-looking material. Judging from some of those huskies we saw to-night, they might crowd our champion pretty hard."

"You can enter me any time you want to," said Jimmy. "Even if I didn't win, I'd have a lot of fun trying. I never really got enough pie at one time yet, and that would be the chance of a lifetime."

At first the boys were more than half joking, but after they had been at the camp a few days and had begun to get acquainted, they let drop hints regarding Jimmy's prowess that aroused the interest of the lumbermen. He was covertly watched at meal times, and as the bracing woodland air and long hikes combined to give an added edge to his appet.i.te, his ability began to command attention. There were several among the woodsmen who had a reputation for large capacity, but it was soon evident that Jimmy was not to be easily outdistanced in his own particular department.

At length interest became so keen that it was decided to stage a real old-fashioned pie-eating contest, to determine whether the champions of the camp were to be outdistanced by a visitor from the city. The cook was approached, and agreed to make all the pies that, in all human probability, would be needed.

"Jimmy, you're in for it now!" exclaimed Herb, dancing ecstatically about his plump friend. "Here's your chance to make good on all the claims we've ever advanced for you. You're up against a strong field, but my confidence in you is unshaken."

"It simply isn't possible that our own Jimmy could lose," grinned Bob.

"I've seen him wade into pies before this, and I know what he can do."

"I appreciate your confidence, believe me," said Jimmy. "But I don't care much whether I win or not. I know I'll get enough pie for once in my life, and that's the main thing."

The time for the contest was set for the following evening, the third of their stay. Five lumbermen had been put forward to uphold the reputation of the camp, and they and Jimmy ate no supper that night, waiting until the others had finished. Then the board was cleared, and the cook and his helper entered, bringing in several dozen big pies of all varieties.

One of these was placed before each of the contestants, and they could help themselves to as many more as their capacity would admit.

The cook, as having the best knowledge of matters culinary, was appointed judge, and was provided with a pad and pencil to check up each contestant. A time limit of two hours was set, the one having consumed the greatest amount of pie in that time to be declared the winner.

The cook gave the signal to start, and the contest was on.