Bumping and jouncing, her springs protesting loudly, The Ark skirted the end of the railroad yards, turned at a sharp angle where the way resembled a dump more than a road, and finally pulled up within a hundred feet of the mills. It was impossible to get any nearer, but the boys showed the passenger the gate through the high board fence and, with a grunt of disgust, he leaped out, fumbling in his pocket. “What’s the fare?” he demanded. “Twenty-five cents, sir.” “Twenty-five cents――twenty-five cents――Here’s a half a dollar; smallest I’ve got.” “I’m afraid――――” Tom looked at Willard enquiringly―――― “I’m afraid, sir, I haven’t the change.” “Didn’t ask for it,” replied the man over his shoulder. “Be back here at three sharp. I want to get the accommodation to Eustis. Don’t forget!” Tom viewed the half-dollar radiantly. “I think we ought to keep this, Will,” he said. “It’s the first money, you know.” “All right,” laughed Willard. “Put it away. And now let’s go and make some more. If we hurry we may get there in time for the 2:06.” Tom jammed his lever in and they jolted recklessly back the way they had come, Willard clutching the seat desperately to keep from being tossed out. As Tom had very nearly kept his promise to reach the mill in two minutes, they were able to return to the station before the west-bound train, which was fortunately two or three minutes late, had arrived. They might as well have spared themselves the trouble and saved the gasoline that they consumed in making the trip, for, although at least two dozen persons got off the 2:06, not one patronized the Benton and Morris Transportation Company’s vehicle. The 2:06 was almost the only train with which the trolley line made any sort of connection. If the express came in on time or merely a minute or two late the trolley car was there at the foot of River Street and, of course, offered a cheap and speedy way of reaching the center of town. To-day the car caught the bulk of the arrivals, while a few walked and some eight or ten piled into Connors’ vehicles. Only The Ark failed to get its share. “I guess the trouble is,” said Willard when the station had settled down to quiet again, “that they can’t see the auto.” “That isn’t it,” replied Tom. “They’re so used to giving their luggage and their checks to Connors’ drivers that they can’t get it into their heads that there might be someone else around. If there was only some way to advertise!” “Advertising costs money. Besides, how would we do it? Or where?” Oddly enough that question was in a manner quickly settled for them. Willard had scarcely finished when Spider Wells, much out of breath and very red of face, panted up to the platform where the partners were seated on a baggage truck. “Gee, I was afraid I’d miss you fellows!” gasped Spider, mopping his heated brow as he swung himself to the truck beside Tom. “It’s nice to be missed,” murmured Willard.