"Good morning to you," he said, somewhat breathlessly. "I’m just off the train from London, and there’s never a bit of a car, and what’ll I do at all, when I’ve to be at the Upper Edgecombe camp before twelve? I’ll be glad now if so be you can tend me the loan of a car." "You’re the second man within ten minutes or so who has wanted to get to the camp in a hurry," said Templeton. "Do you say that, now? And what like might the first be, if you please to tell me?" Templeton was considering how to begin a serious description; but Eves forestalled him. "A fur-lined coat, a bristly moustache, and a voice like a corncrake. That’s near enough for anythink." "It is that," said the stranger, his blue eyes twinkling for an instant. His expression became grave as he added: "Sure it’s mighty unlucky, without you have a car. They told me in the town I’d get one here, or nowhere at all." "I’m sorry I haven’t one handy," said Templeton. "Ours are out." "I say, Bob, what about the road yacht?" said Eves, who had been attracted by the civility of the Irishman, and with quick wit had jumped to the conclusion that he was on the same errand as the boor. "There’s a spanking wind." "Well, if he doesn’t mind risking it," said Templeton, dubiously. "’Deed now, I’ll be after risking anything." "Anythink?" said Eves. "You’ll have his measure taken," said the Irishman, smiling again. "And if it’s a five-pound note——" "Don’t mention it," said Templeton. "Tom, just lock up, will you? while I get ready." He hastened across the yard, opened the bonnet of the car, and spent a few minutes with the inner mysteries. By the time he had satisfied himself that the engine was in working order the other two had joined him. "I’ve only a quart of petrol," he said. "Wilkins has taken the rest, and our monthly allowance isn’t due till to-morrow. The camp’s about eleven miles, and we’ve nearly half an hour; but there’s a stiff hill that will use most of the petrol; it’s an old Ford and can barely do fifteen miles to the gallon." "I’ll run up the hill on my two feet to lighten the car," said the stranger, eagerly; "and sure I’d have run the whole way from the station if I were twenty years younger." "You must have been a stayer in your time, sir," said Eves. "Maybe I was that, the time I did a Marathon, and was not the last either. Only for being five and forty I wouldn’t be troubling you, for a matter of eleven miles. But it’s a sail I see you have. There’s a nice breeze from the west, surely, and if the car doesn’t upset on us I’m thinking we’d do without petrol only for the hill." "Faith removes mountains," said Eves. "You’ve a pretty good share of it." "Faith, and I have then. And if so be the car upsets on us, sure we’ll have a bit of fun, and maybe that’ll make up for the disappointment."