It was no
pleasure tour they were on.
When a little over half the distance had been made they came to
a better road, and Tom was able to use full speed ahead. Then the
electric went so fast that, had it not been for the steel
wind-shield in front, Mr. Damon, at any rate, would have been
short of breath.
"This is going some!" he cried to Tom. The lad nodded grimly,
and shoved the controller handle over to the last notch. Then
came a bad stretch and they had to slow down again. As they were
about out of it there came a little flash of fire and the motor
stopped.
"Bless my overshoes!" cried Mr. Damon. "What's that; a fuse
blown out?"
"No," replied Tom, with a puzzled air. "But something has gone
wrong." Hastily he got out, and made an examination. He found it
was only one of the unimportant wires which had short-circuited,
and it was soon adjusted. But they had lost five precious
minutes. Tom tried to make up for lost time, but came to a hill a
little later, and this reduced their speed.
"Do you think we can make it before twelve?" asked Mr. Damon
anxiously. "We've got to, if we're to get back before three,
Tom."
"I'll try," was the calm answer, and Tom's jaw was shut still
more tightly.
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