[CHAPTER XVIII.]
A TRICK OF THE ENEMY.
The gas and oil lamps were lighted, and, as the sun sank to rest behind the hills, the auto began the night trip. The way was still upward, for the summit of the mountains had not yet been reached. Ned was steering and Jerry was on the seat beside him.
The machine topped a long rise and came to the brow of a small incline, the descent of which, on the other side, was quite steep.
It was now dark, for the moon had gone behind a cloud. The road was not of the best, and Ned had the machine pretty well under control. Down it went on the slope.
Suddenly Jerry gave a cry and reached over to shut off the power.
“Jam on the brakes!” he cried to Ned.
The steersman obeyed, and, with a grinding sound, the auto came to a halt, with a sort of jar.
“What’s the matter?” asked Nestor.