It did. There soon came into sight one of the strangest contraptions ever seen on four wheels. Once it had been a flivver, but those days were gone forever. Its body was of shiny red and made to resemble a boat, with a rudder in the rear, and a propeller. The wheels were nearly concealed in the “hull.” From its pointed bow, blue smoke arose. Within it, on the front seat, sat a cow puncher, his face alight with the joy of possession. In the rear were two girls, some two or three years older than Belle Manley, trying in vain to suppress the laughter that would bubble over. “Bug Eye!” Teddy yelled. “And Nell and Curly! But what in the name of seven sledges is that thing they’re riding in?” “Howdy, boys!” Bug Eye called, waving one arm and reaching toward the “in’ards” of the machine with the other. With a groan the contraption subsided. “What do you think of my Fishmobile?” “Your what?” Roy shouted. “Fishmobile! P-s-y-c-h-e--Fish. I saw it on a boat once. And this is a boat and an automobile, so I call it a Fishmobile. Good, hey?” “Did you two ride in that all the way over from the 8 X 8?” Roy laughed, walking toward Nell and Ethel, the good-looking nieces of Peter Ball. “We certainly did!” Nell answered. “It runs splendidly, doesn’t it, Ethel?” “Great!” was the laughing answer. “How are you, boys? We came to visit Belle, though, as I remember, Nell did say something about Roy--” “Oh, hush!” Nell interrupted, blushing. “Teddy, I haven’t seen you since you and Roy found us in those terrible caves at Thunder Canyon,” and she shuddered slightly. “But we want to forget that--although we’ll never forget what you did for us,” and she looked quickly at Roy. “But where is Belle?” “Right here!” a voice called from the porch, and Belle Ada ran into the yard. Greetings were soon over, and then the young folks gathered around to inspect Bug Eye’s new creation. “She goes on land or water,” he explained proudly. “See? Got a propeller on her and everything. Works on the fly wheel. The boss give me that old flivver--remember?--an’ said I could do what I wanted with it. So I done it. Looks great, hey? An’ when I come to a lake, why all I have to do is throw the propeller in gear, an’ away we go!” “Yes! But, Bug Eye,” Teddy broke in, with a look at Roy, “where is this lake you’re going to sail on?” A look of amazement spread over the puncher’s face. He snapped his fingers and frowned. “Golly!” he exclaimed. “Never thought about that. Well, I’ll be jiggered! Of course there’s Lomley’s Lake--but that would never do. Too small. Well, now, that’s too bad.” Then he brightened. “But if I _do_ find a lake somewheres, I’ll be all set for it!” A laugh arose, which did not at all disconcert Bug Eye. All but the proprietor of “Psyche, the Fish,” wandered into the house. Bug Eye drove toward the bunk-house, there to be the center of a crowd of sarcastic cowpunchers. The remarks made concerning the Fishmobile were graphic if not flattering.