“I just jumped out of an airplane,” said Jimmy, “and I’ve got to get to Bellefonte at once. Have you got a car?”
“Sure,” said the mountaineer deliberately.
“I’ll pay you $25 to take me to Bellefonte. And if you get me there quick, I’ll make it $30,” said Jimmy. “I’m trying to catch a man for whom I have important despatches. I have to get there in the least time possible.”
“I’ll take you,” said the mountaineer.
“Hurry,” panted Jimmy.
The man ran for his barn. The car was inside. It was an old Ford. Jimmy groaned when he saw it. The man started to crank it. To Jimmy it seemed as though the thing would never start. But finally it coughed, then began to explode regularly. The motor sounded good to Jimmy. The man drew on an old overcoat that was in the car. “Get in,” he said. Jimmy obeyed with alacrity. The man let in his clutch and the car rolled out into the road.
“Drive as fast as you can make her go,” urged Jimmy. “I have very important despatches for an official of the government. I simply must catch him. He’s on his way west. If you hurry, there’s a chance.”
The man threw caution to the winds. Twenty-five dollars was more money than he had seen at one time in years. He opened the throttle wide. The little Ford tore along the road. It roared and rattled. It bounced and swayed. When it struck a bump it leaped like a rabbit. But the man never slackened his speed and Jimmy clung to the seat desperately.
“I want to go to the flying field,” said Jimmy. “There’s a car waiting for me there to take me to Tyrone.”
“I’ll put you there in no time,” said the mountaineer.