"Yes. Now come in here and we'll talk over what's best to do. We must get that paper away from Dick Hamilton." CHAPTER XIII THE HAND IN THE DARK "Say, this is a little bit of all right; isn't it?" "It certainly is. I'll have some more of that steak." "Another morsel of bacon would just about suit me." "Those eggs aren't so bad. That electric stove cooks quick enough." "I should say yes. Any more coffee left?" Question and comment thus went back and forth among the three chums as they sat in Dick Hamilton's big touring car, under a great oak tree at one side of a pleasant country road. They had traveled many miles from Hamilton Corners before stopping at a village grocery and meat market and buying what they wanted for dinner. "Going camping?" the man had asked them, as he wrapped up the parcels. "No, just on a tour," Dick said. "Oh, then you're going to cook over an open fire?" "No, we're going to cook it right in the auto," the young autoist said. "Ha! ha!" laughed the man. "Joking; eh? Well, I know you auto fellows have some new wrinkles, but I didn't think you were up to that. Going to broil the steak on your over-heated engine, I suppose, and make coffee with the hot water from your radiator? Ha! ha!" "Not exactly," replied Dick. "Though that might be done. No, we have a stove of our own," and he showed the man the little electrical apparatus in the rear of the enclosed tonneau, on which a good meal could be prepared. And the boys had just finished their culinary operations and were now enjoying the fruits of their labors. They were in a secluded place, and the day was all that could be desired. The little table had been let down from the roof, and the three sat about it, laughing and joking. Farmers and others passing along the highway paused to look in some astonishment, not only at the big car, which was of a type and size seldom seen, but at the boys themselves, who seemed to be taking their ease in regular Gypsy fashion, yet in a style never approached by the dark-skinned nomads. "Some class to this," remarked Paul, as he passed his plate for more steak and bacon. "I should say yes," agreed Innis. "I say, old boy, you're not going to take that egg; are you?" "Why not, I'd like to know?" retorted Paul, pausing in the act of helping himself to a nicely browned one, nestling amid a pile of crisp bacon. "Because you've had three, and that's mine--or Dick's, if he wants it." "No, I don't want it," said the latter. "But it isn't worth quarreling over. We can fry some more." "I guess we'll have to if Paul is going to develop that kind of an appetite," remarked Innis. "Three eggs, twice on the steak, and no end of bacon----" "I did not!" snapped Paul. "Did not what?" asked Innis, with a smile. "Did not have three eggs. It was only two, and----" "Well, this'll be three," retorted Innis. "Oh, well, then I'll split it with you," and Paul cut the egg in half, thus settling the dispute.