"Oh, that's--that's good taste," replied Walter, running his hands through his hair with the doubtful purpose of removing from them some of their lately acquired gasoline and polishing paste. "Then, according to Walt, we must keep at a respectful distance from their good taste," finished Jack. "You are sure--the ghost works all right?" asked Walter. "There is nothing more disgusting than a ghost that refuses to work." "Oh, my ghost is a regular union man--eight hours and all that," replied Ed. "I've tried it on the chickens, and they almost turned into pot-pie from actual fright." "And what time are we counting on getting to a putting-up place?" Walter asked further. "If we leave here about three, will we get anywhere in time to--have breakfast, for instance?" "Well, my machine is in fine shape," declared Jack, "and I just count on the _Get There_ beating your little _Comet_ if yours is a newer machine. With this calculation we should get to the Wayside by eight o'clock. The motor girls are going to put up there for the night, and we may be able to put _down_ there, if it appears out of good style for us to put _up_ there." "Why didn't they go right on--start in time to reach the beach to-night?" inquired Ed. "Oh, just a whim. Girls want all that's coming to them, and a night at a Wayside they count among their required experiences, don't you know. And the old folks being along made it particularly all right," declared Jack. "But they'll beat us by an hour now," almost sighed Walter, who was becoming famous among his chums for his keen interest in the girls and their doings. "Not much," answered Jack. "They are going the long way 'round. Do you suppose they would go over the new road? Why, the dust would blind Cora if she made a single mile of that grind and grit." "Well, after my beauty bath, I'll be about ready," observed Walter. "Ed, don't put too much witch-hazel on your locks. Makes me think of the day after fourth of July, when I went to grandmama's." "Not half as bad as your new gloves. They give me a regular spell of the pig skin fever. I'll bet they're made out of junk, and you got stuck. Three dollars for a pair of gloves to save your lily-white hands--your lily-white hands!" and he ended in the strain of the familiar college song. "Well, I'll be going," said Jack. "See to it that neither of you fellows do so much primping that we miss our--guess," and with that the three young men parted, each going his own way to make ready for the run after the motor girls. CHAPTER XIV LOST ON THE ROAD "Look out there, Walter. Do you want the _Comet_ to run into the _Whirlwind_?" "We are getting pretty close," answered Walter, shutting off the power and coasting with the emergency brake partly on, for he found he was covering a hill too quickly. "I guess we can run alongside here. It's a good enough road."