The inventor started the Terror off.
It had begun to rain.
There was every indication of a wet night.
Jack had informed himself about the roads.
Both he and Tim put on their rubber clothing and occupied the front seat, where they managed the wheel.
A detour was made, and several miles further along they struck into the high road again.
"If the stage-coach in any manner resembles the Terror," said the young inventor, as they ran along, "I think I know of a way in which we can substitute this vehicle for it and fool the bandits, should they waylay her."
"Decoy 'em, eh?"
"Yes. We can easily disguise this coach."
"By hitchin' ther stage horses onter it, yer kin do it."