"Take that from Herc Taylor!" shouted Ned.
Forward into the darkness plunged the car, leaping and rolling over the rough road.
"Hurt, Ned?"
It was the inventor speaking. His voice was anxious. Already the shouts and cries behind them were dying out.
"No, sir, why?"
"That blow with the knife. I thought it would have killed you."
"Well, it might have, sir, but for this. I carried it for a luck piece, and I guess it's earned its name!"
The Dreadnought Boy held up a tiny silver coin. It had a big dent in it, where Kennell's blade had been turned.
It was old Zack's parting present, the Canadian dime.