"h.e.l.lo, here's news!" cried d.i.c.k. "Say, we want to get to Boston just as soon as we can!"

"What is it?" asked the others, quickly.

"Father has received a postal card, mailed from Boston. It is signed by Mrs. Stanhope, and asked for help."

"Does she give any address?" asked Tom.

"He says all there is of the address is 234 Carm. He says the rest is rubbed out."

"Maybe we can find out in a directory what Carm stands for," suggested Spud.

"Exactly, Spud. Say, will you get us to Boston just as soon as possible?"

"I sure will."

"How far is it?"

"About thirty-five miles."

"Then you can make it in an hour."

"Yes, if--" And Spud closed one eye suggestively.

"If what?"

"If they don't arrest us for speeding. It's against the law to run fast, you know."

"Oh, well, we'll have to take a chance," declared Tom. "It's a case of necessity."

As soon as they were outside of the city limits, Spud turned on the gasolene and advanced the spark, until the touring car was making forty and then forty-five miles per hour. On they tore, through Westboro and other places, and then on towards Wellesley.

"Look out, here, that you don't run down any college girls!" warned d.i.c.k, as they came in sight of Wellesley College.

"Oh, I wouldn't run down any girls for the world!" answered Spud, as he slowed down a bit. Soon the main street of Wellesley was left behind and on they sped for Newton and the Hub.

"Hi! hi!" came a sudden call from the roadway, and a policeman appeared, waving his hand frantically.

"Sorry, but we can't stop to talk!" flung back Spud, and in a minute the officer of the law became a mere speck in the distance. He had not gotten their number, so could do nothing.

They were just entering Boston proper when a loud report came from one of the rear tires. The car swerved to one side, and Spud had all he could do to keep it from going into a hitching post. Then he shut off the power.

"A blow-out!" announced Tom, as he leaped to the ground.

"That ends running for the present," said Sam.

"So it does," agreed Spud, mournfully.

CHAPTER XX AN ADVENTURE IN BOSTON

The Rover boys looked at each other inquiringly. They wanted to go on, but did not know what to do about the stalled automobile.

"You go ahead," said Spud, reading their thoughts. "I'll fix the tire, or have it done by some garage man, and I'll see you later."

"Where?" asked d.i.c.k.

"I'll go to the Parker House-that is where my uncle always goes,"

answered Spud.

"Very well-we'll call for you or send a message," said Tom. "Come on, here is a trolley!" And he ran to stop the car. Soon he and his brothers were on board and bound for the heart of the city.

"Say, do you know any street in town that begins with Carm?" questioned d.i.c.k, of the car conductor.

"Carm?" repeated the man, slowly. "No, I don't. I don't believe there is such a street."

"Do you know the streets pretty well?"

"I ought to-I drove an express wagon for four years."

"That looks as if we were up against it," said d.i.c.k, to his brothers.

"We'll go in a drug store and consult a city directory," answered Sam.

"He may think he knows all the streets, but every city has a lot of places even the oldest inhabitant doesn't know."

They rode on a few blocks further and then, seeing a large drug store, alighted from the car and entered the place. A directory was handy, on a stand, and they asked for permission to consult it.

"Nothing like Carm here," said Tom, after they had looked at the alphabetical list of streets. "We are stumped, sure enough."

"h.e.l.lo! I've got it-I think!" burst out Sam, so loudly that the attention of several persons in the store was attracted to him. "Here is a Varmolet street. Maybe Mrs. Stanhope only heard the name, and thought it was Carmolet. She wrote that down, and the end became rubbed off."

"You may be right, Sam," answered d.i.c.k. "Anyway, I guess your idea is worth looking into. I wonder where Varmolet street is?"

They made several inquiries, and at last learned that the street was a narrow and exceedingly crooked affair about half a mile away. They boarded another street car to visit the neighborhood.

"Look who is here!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tom, as he and his brothers sat down.

"Well, I never!" cried Sam.

"Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur!" murmured d.i.c.k.

It was indeed the two former students of Brill-the lads who had run away after causing the Rovers and some others so much trouble. Both were loudly dressed in summer outing flannels, and each carried an unlighted cigarette in his hand.

"Huh!" grunted Jerry Koswell, as he glared at the Rovers. "Where did you come from?"

"Perhaps we might ask the same question," returned d.i.c.k, coldly.