The motorman now came into the car.
“Not enough juice,” he growled. “She turns all right, but she don’t get nowhere.”
“Try her again,” advised the conductor anxiously. He was looking at Nimbus and Billy with suspicion. “You kids ain’t been soapin’ the track, have you?” he inquired suddenly.
“Oh, no, sir!” said Billy. “I’m not allowed to do that.”
The motorman again turned on the power, but although the wheels hummed and whirred on the track, not an inch forward did the car go.
“There’s something wrong,” he said, “but I don’t know what it is. She turns all right, and she acts all right, but she don’t go ahead none.”
“She won’t,” said Nimbus, “till these people get off. It would be a shame to take them to the Equator.”
“Certainly it would,” said the deacon. “I for one am going to get off.”
“Me, too,” said the burglar.
