“He was probably the most surprised crook ever,” commented Grace with a chuckle.  “He never will get over cursing you, Betty.  How did you ever happen to have it?  The pepper gun, I mean,” she added curiously.

Betty explained how the gun had come into her possession.  “I didn’t know,” she added ruefully, her foot on the accelerator as they sped up a steep hill, “when I bought it, that it would come in so handy.  How much further do you suppose we have to go?” she asked, changing the subject abruptly.

“Why,” said Grace, looking at her wrist watch and realizing suddenly that she was getting rather hungry, “we have been riding since ten o’clock and it is now after noon.  We must be very nearly there by this time.  Goodness, I hope there will be something to eat around Wild Rose Lodge.  I’m getting famished.”

“Mollie’s Uncle John said he would attend to that—­ stocking the cabin with good things, I mean,” said Betty, herself suddenly conscious of a disturbingly hungry feeling.  “He said we would find enough canned things to last us at least a week.”

“Canned things, yes,” pouted Grace.  “But who in the world wants to live on canned things?  I don’t see why we didn’t bring a chicken along, at least.”

“Well, maybe we can manage to run over one,” chuckled Betty, as they passed a farmhouse and several chickens scuttled squawking across the road.  “Then we can have one good and fresh.  For goodness’ sake, what is Mollie tooting that horn for?” she added, as the raucous signal came from the car behind them.  “Has she stopped the car, Grace?  Look and see.”

“It’s stopped deader than a door nail,” said Grace, obligingly screwing about in her seat and fixing on the road behind them a disapproving eye.  “Now what do you suppose can be the trouble this time?  If she has had a blowout or something, I’m not going to help fix the old thing——­”

“You couldn’t fix the blowout, dear, but you might help with the tire,” Betty said, with a laugh, as she stopped the roadster and jumped to the road.  “Come on, she seems to be excited about something——­”

“Goodness, I hope it isn’t another highway robber,” said Grace anxiously, stopping in the middle of the road at the dreadful thought.  “I don’t see any, but——­”

“You don’t see any because there isn’t any,” Betty assured her, taking her by the arm and leading her decidedly forward.  “You don’t suppose there is a whole Robin Hood’s band in this woods, do you?”

Mollie and Amy and Mrs. Irving came running to meet them excitedly—­ or at least, Mollie and Amy did the running, while their chaperon followed more slowly.

“There are blackberries in there, whole bushels and bushels of them!” Mollie called.  “You could see them from the road, and there you girls passed right by them without even looking.”

“Blackberries!” repeated Grace resignedly, as she felt in her pocket to see if she had any candy left.  “Just listen to her speaking of blackberries when what I’m dying for is a good big steak with onions on top of it—­”