Tish pushed a few things on the dashboard, but it only hiccoughed twice
and then stopped breathing.

"No gasoline!" she exclaimed, in a rage. "We'll have to run for it."

The farmhouse was in sight now, about a half mile ahead. Aggie groaned,
but got out and turned to Myrtle. But Myrtle was sitting back in the car
with a gleam of triumph in her eyes.

"Certainly _not_," she said calmly.

"Very well," Tish replied. "I don't know but you are just as well where
you are. That last car is done for, if I know anything about barbed
wire, and they're not likely to chase a machine on foot. They're
probably on their way back to town now, and I hope the policeman has to
hop all the way. It's only forty miles or so."

She then started up the road, but turned:

"Bring her suitcase, Lizzie," she said. "There's no use leaving it there
for tramps to come along and steal it."

She then stalked majestically up the road, and we followed. I am not a
complaining woman, but if that girl had left any clothes at home they
couldn't have amounted to much. Aggie refused to help with the suitcase,
as she had her knitting bag, and as any exertion in summer brings on her
hay fever.

It was perhaps five minutes later that I heard a faint call behind me,
and turned to see Myrtle coming along behind. She was not crying now,
and her mouth was shut tight.

"I suppose," she said angrily, "that it does not matter if tramps get
_me_."

"Miss Tish invited you to the farm," I replied.

"Invited!" she snapped. "If this is what she calls an invitation, I'd
hate to have her make it a request."

However, she seemed to be really a very nice girl, although misguided,
for she took one end of the suitcase. But I learned then how difficult
it is for the average mind to grasp the high moral purpose and lofty
conception of a woman like Tish.

"I might as well tell you now," she said, "that I don't believe they'll
pay any large sum. They're not going to be very keen about me at home,
since this elopement business."

"Who'll pay what sum?"

"The ransom," she said, impatiently. "You don't suppose I fell for all
that patriotic stuff, do you?"

I could only stare at her in dumb rage.

"At first, of course," she said, "I thought you were white slavers. But
I've got it now. The other game is different. Oh, I may come from a
small town, but I'm not unsophisticated. You people didn't send my
father those black hand letters he's been getting lately, I suppo