They had gone a few hundred feet further when something went wrong with the car. Cal drew it up by the roadside and got down to investigate. A few moments went by. Then came a sharp cry from Garry. "Look out!" he called. Cal looked up just in time see a stick in the hands of one of the tramps who had followed them descending toward his head. He dodged, and the tramp, almost overbalanced by missing his stroke, stumbled forward, and in the attempt to save himself dropped the stick. Instantly Cal picked it up and gave the man a poke with it in the pit of his stomach. The man doubled up and sat down promptly, gasping for breath and with all the fight knocked out of him for the moment. Simultaneously with his cry of warning to Cal, Garry had jumped from the car. As he did so, the other two tramps rushed toward him. Against the three of them it would have fared hard with the boys if at that moment a car full of schoolboys who had been to the game had not swept around the bend of the road. They took in the unequal struggle in an instant, stopped the car and swarmed down from it. At these unexpected reinforcements the tramps, seeing themselves much outnumbered, made off at good speed, never once stopping to look behind them. The newcomers, who took it all as a lark, shouted lustily and pursued the fleeing rascals until the latter were lost in the woods near by. Then they returned, waved aside laughingly the thanks of Garry and Cal, jumped into their waiting car and sped away. Garry turned to Cal, grinning and wiping the dust from his clothes. "That was a lucky interruption for us," he said. "Surest thing you know," agreed Cal. They resumed their trip, and before long drew up at a roadhouse that stood a little back from the highway. "Ready for the next act?" asked Cal. "More than ready--eager," returned Garry. They went quietly around to a side door of the building. Cal appeared to know his way about very well. "The eats are good here," he explained, "and I've often dropped in when I've been coming home from a spin. Only for the eats though, for I never touch anything stronger than tea or coffee for liquid refreshment." "Don't seem to be doing much business now," volunteered Garry, as he looked about. "The dinner crowd hasn't begun to come yet," replied Cal. "It's a good time to find Jake unoccupied. Come on. I think I'll know where to locate him." Jake, Garry conjectured, was the proprietor of the place. Cal opened the side door with an air of assurance and stepped into a large kitchen. The cook and two helpers were already busied with preparations for dinner. Cal greeted them jovially. "Want a word with Jake in private, Jerry," he said, and favored the cook with a wink. "Where shall I find him?" Jerry, a big fat man with a chef's hat on his head, jerked the hat toward a door at the further end of the kitchen. "In his office. Go on in. He's always glad to see old customers." Cal crossed the kitchen swiftly, Garry at his side.