"Yes, and we're ahead of it!" exclaimed Paul as he caught sight of the cars. "We've gained on them!"
"But they're going down grade, and we have a hill to climb," spoke Cora a little despairingly. But she would not give up. On and on rushed the car. There was but five minutes left, and the railroad; station was very close to the building where the automobile concern was located. Sid's chances were very good—Paul's not quite so much so.
"We'll have to be a little careful now," Paul reminded her as they swung around a curve. "We'll have to go slow through the city."
"Yes, but I have been counting on that. We still have a few minutes. Oh, isn't it a pity that a motor isn't like a horse? When you get a machine going just so fast it can't go any faster, but a horse can always be depended on for a spurt."
"Yes," answered Paul quietly. He was busy thinking.
"How many minutes lift now?" asked Cora.
"Two," was the grim answer.
With keen eyes, that took note of every obstruction or vehicle that might block her, Cora drove her car on. Around corners, and through busy streets she piloted it. They were but a block from the center of the town.
"There's the train," spoke Paul quietly as the engine pulled into the station.
"And we're at the building of the Whitehall auto concern!" exclaimed Cora triumphantly a few seconds later, as she guided the car up to the curb. "Hurry!" she called to Paul. As if he needed to be told that!