“Indeed it doesn’t,” said Tom stoutly. “I’ve been thinking.”
“You want to be careful this hot weather,” observed his chum with an attempt at humor.
“They won’t let us stop the car anywhere,” Tom went on, disregarding the slur, “but they can’t prevent us from driving up and down the street, can they?”
“I don’t suppose so. Why?”
“Well, then what’s to prevent me from taking the car up to the hotel just before train time and driving it back and forth slowly? If anyone wanted to get in I’d have a right to stop, I suppose.”
“Of course you would! Why didn’t we think of that before? But—but it will use up a lot of gasoline, won’t it?”
“Not much. Besides—” and Tom looked savage—“I’d waste a gallon a day to get ahead of Connors!”
“And I’d pay for it out of my own pocket!” declared Willard. “That’s what we’ll do, then, Tom. We’ll try it for a few days, anyhow. We’ll start to-morrow morning and I’ll go with you.”
It was a rather tedious and trying job keeping The Ark on the move all the time, but it answered the purpose apparently quite as well as keeping it stationary. If a person wanted to ride down in the car, he didn’t hesitate to use his lungs, and Tom, always with an eye on the hotel entrance, drew up and took him in. The policeman on the beat watched proceedings closely and was plainly disgruntled, and had Tom given him the least excuse he would have swooped down and made trouble. But Tom was too wise to stop The Ark for an instant save to pick up or set down passengers.