With their tank replenished by a five gallon supply, they were ready for the last stage of their momentous journey. “We ought to make Kingston in an hour,” said Townsend. “What d’you say, Liz? We ought to hit Saugerties about noontime—” “You should never hit anybody under your size,” said Pee-wee; “Saugerties is a small place.” “Well, then _you_ can hit it,” said Townsend. “Then Kingston, then Catskill; and we ought to be at camp by about two. That’s allowing for two blow-outs, three short circuits, a puncture and fourteen hold-ups by the upstate cops. I’ll throw in a leaky radiator just to be on the safe side.” “Of course if we should have any _unexpected_ troubles it would take us longer. I’m just figuring on the regular every-day program.” Then, as they rattled along, he sang one verse of a song which had nine million verses, all of which he knew. He had a way of making the flivver accompany him with certain noises and tooting the horn twice as a sort of orchestral finale: “When the rear end starts a-bumping, And the engine starts a-thumping, And the top falls down and hits you in the neck; When the water starts a-hissing, And three cylinders are missing, Will you love me when my flivver is a wreck?” “Gee whiz, I don’t see how the top can fall down and hit me,” said Pee-wee. “Do you call that logic?” “Once it had a fine top, Kid,” said Townsend. “A top that could fall down—easily—every ten minutes. A real top. It can’t fall down any more, Kid,” he added sadly. “It would if it could; you shouldn’t make fun of it.” “How can I make fun of it when it isn’t there?” Pee-wee shouted. “That’s just it,” said Townsend; “you talk behind its back when it isn’t here to fall down on you. Do you call that chivalrous?” “You’re crazy,” said Pee-wee. Townsend, sitting up straight in his funny, complacent way as if he were driving a golden chariot, sang: “When the front wheels are a-wriggling, And the busted hood is jiggling, And the rusty springs they jounce you all about; When the squeaking never ceases, And the windshield is in pieces, Will you love me when my Lizzie’s down and out?” “You bet your life I will,” said Pee-wee. “Gee whiz, after this whenever I think of you, I’ll think of this Ford; you’re kind of like partners.” “In adversity?” said Townsend. “And you won’t be ashamed of us when we get to Temple Camp? I wonder what they’ll think of us there. I’m kind of anxious to see the place, I’ve heard so much of it from you.” “Gee whiz, I’ll always stick up for you and your flivver,” said Pee-wee. Townsend stuck his feet up where the lower pane of the windshield had once been and hummed as he caressed the steering-wheel fondly.