“Back fire?” questioned Bob.
“Blow-out!” said Jerry, with a grim tightening of his lips, as he felt the car skidding under the stress of the collapsed tire.
Jerry brought the machine up with a jerk, and was out on the ground almost before it had stopped.
“Come on!” he cried grimly to his chum. “Got to put on a new shoe.”
It was not easy work, and it seemed as though it took them longer than usual, as it always does when one is in a hurry. But, doubtless, they worked with their usual speed.
Once more they were off again, and kept on speeding. They halted at a country store to get some crackers and a box of herring, also some bottled soda water to relieve their thirst. They ate on the run, glad enough to get their meal that way.
Then a puncture delayed them, but working with feverish haste, they managed to get in a new tube. Then, tired, with aching muscles, and covered with the oil from the motor boat, as well as the dust of the road, they swung into Brookville, and sent the car around a turn on two wheels, into the hotel driveway.
Once more Jerry was out almost before the vehicle had ceased rolling. Bob followed him more slowly into the corridor of the hotel.
“Dr. Wright—is he here—yet?” panted Jerry to the clerk.
That functionary looked up in surprise, and not a little suspicion at the grimy and disheveled figure before him.