In the first place, he had not run a mile on the road to Severn Corners when he stepped on a pebble, turned his ankle sharply, and had to hobble the rest of the way at a much slower pace than he had expected.
All the time, too, Tom was troubled about the uncertainty of there being at the Corners any repair shop. He knew it was a small settlement. At most, the repair garage would be very small, and perhaps the mechanic a mere country "jack-of-all-trades," who would fumble the job.
To obtain a car to drag his own into the town was beyond the boy's hopes, and when he came at last to a comfortable looking farmhouse some half a mile that side of the settlement, he determined to see if he could not obtain a pair of horses from the farmer, to get the car to the hamlet.
He approached the back door of the house without seeing anybody about. It was already growing dark, he had hobbled so slowly on the road. As he stepped upon the porch, Tom heard a sudden furious barking inside the house.
"Welcome to our city!" he muttered. "If nobody's at home but that savage beast, I'm likely to fare about as Roberto did at that farmhouse 'way back on the road by Culm Falls."
But he ventured to rap upon the door. It was one of those old-fashioned doors which opens in two parts. The upper half swung outward, but the lower remained bolted.
Lucky for Tom Cameron this was so. A great, shaggy beast, with gleaming fangs and slobbering jaws, appeared over the ledge, scratching with his strong claws to get out at the intruder.
"What do you want?" demanded a shrill voice from somewhere behind the excited brute. "We ain't got nothin' for tramps."
"I should say you most certainly had something for tramps, Madam," said Tom, when he could make himself heard. "Any tramp would run from that fellow."
"I don't see you running. But you better," advised the woman, who was thin-faced, scant of hair, and had a voice about as pleasant as a whip-saw going through a knot.