“Throw your watch!” cried Reggie grimly, above the noise of the machine.
“No, it’s a good watch yet, in spite of that trick,” answered Joe. “It wasn’t the fault of the watch.”
Once more he looked at it. Time was ticking on, and they still had several miles to go. The game must have been called by this time, and Joe was not there. He clenched his hands, and shut his teeth tightly.
“We’ll do it—or bust!” declared Reggie.
His car was not a racer, but it was capable of good speed. He did not dare use all that was available, on account of the traffic. Many autos were taking spectators to the game, and they were in a hurry, too.
Amid dust clouds they sped on, the engine whining and moaning at the speed at which it was run. But it ran true and “sweet,” with never a miss.
“They’re playing now!” spoke Joe, in a low voice. In fancy he could hear the clang of the starting gong, and hear the umpire cry:
“Play ball!”
And he was not there!