Chapter 1.

“Yes,” sad Scoot Whizzer, “for getting over the country and seeing the scenery, give me the motor car every time.”

These words were spoken to Bill Buddle by Scoot Whizzer as they flew along the road in the new “Rattlebury” which Scoot had just purchased and was bringing home from the city.

“You see,” said Scoot, enlarging on the virtues of the motor car; “with train travelling you see the same old scenery every time.”

“I can never manage to see any scenery when I'm travelling in a motor car,” replied Bill; “everything seems to shoot past like a big basin of haggis.”

“Yes,” said Scoot, ignoring Bill's nasty indictment; “give me the motor car for variety, and there's nothing can beat the motor for giving a man a thrill.”

“And they can give you a dirty spill, too,” said Bill.

“I said ‘thrill,’” yelled Scoot, “not ‘spill.'”

Scoot's sense of humour had long since been embalmed by the constant inhalation of the vapours of many mysterious and terrible spirits, and with a deep touch of motor reverence in his voice, he continued:

“For combining business wth pleasure, give me the motor car. Nothing to touch it for killing two birds with one stone.”

“I thought the motor had a better average than that,” said Bill, and the conversation was closed.

Chapter II.

As the “Rattlebury” vaulted along over the pot-holes, Scoot again became talkative.

“Remember Jim Butters, who went to school with us?” he asked.

“Perfectly,” responded Bill.

“Well,” said Scoot, “he's got a great sheeprun in these parts. The homestead, alone, which you will see from the road, cost something like five thousand pounds.”

“Good,” said Bill; “it should be worth seeing.”

At that moment they reached a part of the road that narrowed slightly and a car that had been following, came up close behind them.

“There's a car behind, tooting to get past,” said Bill.

Scoot gave a quick glance to the rear, and then, stepping on the gas, the “Rattlebury” gave a mighty leap and bounded forward with a speed that, to Bill's mind, made the passing scenery look like a half-cooked omelette.

Chapter III.

When the time was opportune, Bill glanced behind, and away in the distance he could just see a little dark speck which, he had no reason to doubt, was a Ford car.

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Having treated Bill to about ten thousand acres of scenery to the mile, and feeling that his prestige as a pilot had been brilliantly enhanced, Scoot slowed the “Rattlebury” down a bit and looked over at Bill with a triumphant smile.

Bill seized his opportunity, and said: “You were saying, Jim Butters had a place in these parts. What about dropping in to see him when we come to it?”

“Confound those Ford cars!” shrieked Scoot. “That was Jim Butters’ place with the tiled roof that we passed about two miles back. I thought you noticed it.”

“I did notice something red,” said Bill; “but at the rate we were travelling it looked like a tomato patch.”

“Never mind,” said Scoot; “some day when you're not busy we'll take a run out and spend the day with Jim.”

“Right-oh, thanks,” said Bill. “I would like to see Jim Butters.”

Moral: Travel by rail, and see the scene that's otherwise unseen.