Avidon's is located half-way up what is known as Pine Mountain. Its front verandah commands an uninterrupted view of the western horizon line. Also an uninterrupted view of the last quarter-mile of roadway that emerges from the shelter of some woods in the valley below, and makes a dash for the hotel up over a shorn hill, as bare and exposed as a Scotch moor. There are not many automobiles that climb this road. Avidon's is far removed from the beaten track. The approach of any car is always an occasion of mild interest.
'What kind of an animal do you call that?' suddenly somebody on the verandah exclaimed, pointing down the hill. Everybody turned, abandoning the sunset. Crawling along the road at a snail's pace, there approached a small, dark object, self-propelling and suggestive of an automobile, halting every little while, coming to a dead stop, rolling down the hill a few yards, and making a fresh start.
As witnessed by the idle group of spectators on the verandah and commented upon by them with facetious remarks, it was a highly entertaining sight. The little car threatened so many times to give up the struggle.
'Persistence! Never say die! Excelsior!'
Such was the form of wit indulged in by the group upon the verandah.
