“That’s what I can’t get used to about an auto—­the size of it.  They’re like houses to me, as big as all outdoors.”

“I know of an old barn out this way, over toward Woodbine,” went on Cora.  “We would likely find that open, for when I went past there the other day they were getting ready to put the hay in.”

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Belle as the thunder sounded nearer and louder.  “I wish we could get back home.  Turn around, Bess., dear.”

“I can’t,” declared her sister with a nervous little laugh.  “The road is too narrow for me to make a turn in, and I haven’t yet learned how to reverse well.  We’ll have to keep on until I get to a wide place.”

“I don’t want to do that!” objected Belle.  “Let’s stop the car, get out, and push it around.  Surely we can do that.  Don’t go any farther.”

“Yes, yes!” cried Cora.  “Keep on.  It’s too late to turn back now.  There!  It’s raining!  Let me get ahead, and I’ll show you the way-a short cut.  I know how to get through that lane.”

Her car shot ahead, the girl skillfully guiding it, and the twins timidly following, until, with many a twist and turn, Cora piloted them up a little hill to a big red barn, with the wide doors invitingly open.

“Drive right inside,” called Cora, slowing down her car.  “I guess no one will object, and we haven’t any lights to put out, as the warning over the door of the garage says.”

The rain was falling in torrents now, and before Cora could get the Whirlwind wholly within the shelter, and while yet the Flyaway was entirely out; the girls received quite a wetting.  A moment later they were out of the storm in the barn, had stopped their cars, and shut off the engines.

“Suppose the owner doesn’t like it?” suggested Belle.

“Well, we’re in, anyway,” declared Cora, “and I guess they won’t put us out.  But we must be careful.  Don’t let any gasolene or oil drip out.  But I guess it won’t, as both the cars are new.”

No one but themselves seemed to be in the barn, which was odorous with new-mown hay, great mows of it being on either side of the broad floor on which the autos stood.

“There are some men coming,” announced Bess, looking out through the big doors into a mist of rain.

“The haymakers,” announced Cora.  “They were getting in the crop, but the rain didn’t let them finish.  See how they’re running.”

“What shall we do when they come in?” inquired Belle, anxiety depicted on her face.

“Why, nothing, I should say,” replied Cora.  “There is plenty of room for them and us, I’m sure, even if our cars are rather large.  We won’t eat the men, and I hope they won’t eat us.”

“Oh, dear!” sighed Belle, but Bess laughed.

The first to reach the barn was a very tall farmer, of the type designated as lean and lanky.  He was headed straight for the open doors, his head bent down to avoid the pelting drops, and he did not see the cars and the young ladies until he had nearly collided with Cora.  Then he straightened up suddenly, and the look of astonishment on his face made Cora want to laugh, only she felt, under the circumstances, that she did not dare.