Cattle and horses along her road awoke from their dozing in the
moonlight, perhaps leaped to the conclusion that it was old Hell-Fire
himself in their midst, flung their tails aloft and scampered to right
and left, and Terry's car stood in front of Packard's door.
Right square in front of the door so that Terry herself could jump from
her running-board and so that her front wheels were planted firmly in
the old man's choice bed of roses. There were two flat tires,
punctured on the way; two ruined, battered rims; her tank still held
perhaps a gallon of gasoline. But she had arrived.
Before she leaped out Terry had glanced at her clock; she had made the
trip of forty miles in exactly fifty-three minutes. Considering the
state of the roads----
"Not bad," admitted Terry.
Then with a final clarion call of her horn she had presented herself at
Packard's door. She had got a few of the wildest blown wisps of brown
hair back where they belonged before the door opened. She heard
hurrying feet and prepared herself by a visible stiffening for the
coming of the arch villain himself. There was a sense of
disappointment when she saw that it was only the dwarfed henchman come
in the master's stead. Guy Little stared at her in pure surprise.
"Terry Temple, ain't it?" gasped the mechanician. "For the love of
Pete!"
"I want Doctor Bridges," said Terry quickly.
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