At first, Noddy, who was steering his machine, was too surprised at Jerry’s move to know what to do. When he did attempt to speed up, the other car was several hundred feet in advance. Two minutes later Jerry had reached the bridge and brought his auto to a stop.
“There!” he exclaimed. “I guess we can hold them here as long as we like. The other car can’t beat us, can it?”
“I should say not,” answered Nestor. “You’re a slick one, Jerry!”
For the bridge was so narrow that there was but room on it for one auto at a time. With Noddy’s car in the rear, it could not go ahead until Jerry was ready.
“We’ll all have a drink!” exclaimed Broswick. “I’m as dry as a powder-horn myself.”
There was a general rush to the stream, which proved to be a clear, cold, mountain brook, and never did liquid taste better than that to the thirsty adventurers. They had not half enough when Noddy’s machine came puffing up, but was forced to stop.
“Pull your machine out of there or I’ll ram you!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, I guess not!” said Nestor, slowly. “This is a public road.”
“I’ll show you whether it is or not,” went on the bully, in a blustering tone, reaching for the lever to send his car ahead. His intention was to push the other auto off the bridge.