When the money was received, and after Tim had paid off Daley and Spofford, he and Rodney decided to join forces, and go off “on a good time” to Columbus, a large city west of Springfield. “Life is too slow and risky here,” Tim had remarked, “and we would be suspected if seen with all this money.” It was, indeed, a large amount for two boys to handle. The boys left Springfield with the idea of going to Columbus, but did not. Ten miles from Springfield they made a change in their plans. Here was located a noted summer resort, known as Eagle Cliff, and Rodney insisted on spending a day or two there. “What for?” asked Tim. “To cut a dash.” “Who’s there?” “A lot of snobs from the academy I used to go to. I’d just like to show them that I’ve got more cash than any of them.” “All right, I’m willing,” assented Tim. Both boys had rigged themselves up in the finest of clothes, and the amount of gaudy jewelry that Tim wore was enormous. They tired of the humdrum life at Eagle Cliff in a day, and both decided to go on to Columbus. “Suppose we drive there, and take in the fair at Chester and the races at Dover on the way?” suggested Tim. “All right.” The result was that they made an arrangement with a liveryman to supply a double team, and one morning they started for Columbus by way of a fine road lined by charming villages. They drove recklessly, and in crossing a narrow bridge were so precipitate that they crowded several boys standing there to its extreme edge. One little fellow fell over into the stream and was with difficulty rescued, but the indifferent Tim and Rodney only laughed at the anger and indignation of the boy’s companions. Late that afternoon Tim Downey and his companion arrived at a place called Ridgeton, where they lingered long enough to get quite intoxicated. The tavern keeper bluntly told them that they were not in a condition to pursue the journey, and that the horses were nearly exhausted. “We’ll load up with a dozen bottles of champagne and go on to the fair at Chester,” persisted Tim. Five miles on the road they became uproariously, intoxicated and wandered off from the road, finding themselves pursuing a sandy and yielding course along the shores of a lake. A girl calling home the cows told them that they had better retrace their way to the road, but they were stubbornly determined to cross a swampy reach of land by a short cut, and kept on. Darkness overtook them at last. They kept drinking more and more, quarreled, had a fist fight, and then Rodney, at last overcome with the wine, lay in the bottom of the carriage unconscious. Tim, angry at the slow progress of the horses, lashed them with the whip. The animals became frightened and unmanageable. They tore the reins from his hands, ran away, and colliding with a tree, the frail vehicle was dashed to fragments and both boys landed insensible among a wreck of wood and wine bottles in the swamp.