CHAPTER I
"THE COACHLESS WONDERS"
A blue runabout chugged blithely along
Troutman Street, in the town of Clearfield,
one afternoon in mid-September, honking
hoarse warnings at the intersections of other thoroughfares
and rustling the yellow and russet leaves,
which, because of an unprecedently early frost two
nights before, had already sprinkled the pavement.
In the car, clutching the wheel with an assumption of ease somewhat belied by the frequent frowns of anxiety which appeared on his face, sat the proud owner, Richard, or, as some of us already know him, Dick Lovering. Dick was seventeen years of age tall, nice-looking, with dark eyes and hair and a lean face a trifle more pallid than one would expect on the driver of an automobile. But Dick hadn't had that runabout very long, only about
