"Faster!" shouted Billy.
Intoxicated with the speed and excitement, Terry threw the throttle
wider and the big car leaped forward and sped down the avenue. In
it four black, feather-bedecked children whooped in wild glee until
suddenly Terry's war cry changed to a scream of panic.
"The lake is coming!"
"Stop!" cried Billy. "Stop! Why don't you stop?"
Paralyzed with fear Terry clung to the steering gear and the car sped
onward.
"You little fool! Why don't you stop?" screamed Billy, catching Terry's
arm. "Tell me how to stop!"
A bicycle shot beside them and Freckles standing on the pedals shouted:
"Pull out the pin in that little circle at your feet!"
Billy fell on his knees and tugged and the pin yielded at last. Just
as the wheels struck the white sand the bicycle sheered close, Freckles
caught the lever and with one strong shove set the brake. The water
flew as the car struck Huron, but luckily it was shallow and the beach
smooth. Hub deep the big motor stood quivering as Freckles climbed in
and backed it to dry sand.
Then he drew a deep breath and stared at his brood.
"Terence, would you kindly be explaining?" he said at last.
Billy looked at the panting little figure of Terry.
"I guess I better," he said. "We were playing Indians on the warpath,
and we hadn't any ponies, and Terry said it was all the style to go in
automobiles now, so we----"
Freckles's head went back, and he did some whooping himself.
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