CHAPTER FIVE ON TO BUFFALO
"GEE WHIZ!!"

From Painesville three roads led east,--the North Ridge, Middle
Ridge, and South Ridge. We followed the middle road, which is said
to be by far the best; it certainly is as good a gravel road as
one could ask. Some miles out a turn is made to the South Ridge
for Ashtabula.

There is said to be a good road out of Ashtabula; possibly there
is, but we missed it at one of the numerous cross roads, and soon
found ourselves wallowing through corn-fields, climbing hills, and
threading valleys in the vain effort to find Girard,--a point
quite out of our way, as we afterwards learned.

The Professor's bump of locality is a depression. As a passenger
without serious occupation, it fell to his lot to inquire the way.
This he would do very minutely, with great suavity and becoming
gravity, and then with no sign of hesitation indicate invariably
the wrong road. Once, after crossing a field where there were no
fences to mark the highway, descending a hill we could not have
mounted, and finding a stream that seemed impassable, the
Professor quietly remarked,--

"That old man must have been mistaken regarding the road; yet he
had lived on that corner forty years. Strange how little some
people know about their surroundings!"

"But are you sure he said the first turn to the left?"

"He said the first turn, but whether to the left or right I cannot
now say. It must have been to the right."

"But, my dear Professor, you said to the left."

"Well, we were going pretty fast when we came to the four corners,
and something had to be said, and said quickly. I notice that on
an automobile decision is more important than accuracy. After
being hauled over the country for three days, I have made up my
mind that automobiles are driven upon the hypothesis that it is
better to lose the road, lose life, lose anything than lose time,
therefore, when you ask me which way to turn, you will get an
immediate, if not an accurate, response; besides, there is a
bridge ahead, a little village across the stream, so the road
leads somewhere."

Now and then the Professor would jump out to assist some female in
distress with her horse; at first it was a matter of gallantry,
then a duty, then a burden. Towards the last it used to delight
him to see people frantically turning into lanes, fields, anywhere
to get out of the way.

The horse is a factor to be considered--and placated. He is in
possession an