CHAPTER XXVIII
A WILD RIDE
Although Tom and Mr. Connors walked as fast as they knew how, the garage was lighted when they came in sight of it and they found Willard, who had run all the way from his house, seeing to the lamps on the car.
“I’ve looked at the tank, Tom, and it’s two-thirds full,” said Willard. “That’ll get us to Finley Falls all right. We can buy gas there if we need more. Shall I turn the lights on?”
Mr. Connors, after nodding to Willard, took out his watch and frowned at what he saw. While the boys lighted the lamps he paced impatiently up and down by the car, although Tom had opened the tonneau door invitingly. Finally, “All ready, sir,” said Tom. Mr. Connors took his place in the back of the car, Willard slammed the door after him and The Ark ran out into the street. Willard closed the garage and sprang into his place beside Tom. The engine sputtered, the gears rasped and they started off. One block on Main Street and Tom turned back through Linden to Washington. As he swung around the corner he pulled the throttle further open and they flew along under the yellowing elms at a pace that brought the residents of that quiet thoroughfare to their doors.
As they passed the common a quick glance at the clock in the Town Hall gave them the time. It was just eight minutes to seven.
“You’ll be cold,” said Tom, as he noted that Willard had no overcoat on.
“No, I won’t; not very. There wasn’t time to find anything.” Willard dropped his voice. “How badly is he hurt, Tom?”
“I don’t know. The telegram didn’t say. It just said ‘seriously injured.’ He’s in the hospital, though, and I guess it’s pretty bad.”
Their way took them down River Street, past the station, over the bridge and then sharply to the right along a country road that followed the river for five or six miles. It was a fair road, when in good condition, but lack of rain for many days had placed a two-inch deposit of dust on it and hollowed out many chuck-holes. But this was no time to consider comfort, and, once in the Fountain Road, Tom pulled the throttle wide open, and, with the searchlights boring a dim yellow path into the gloom of early evening, The Ark bounced and lurched onward at break-neck speed.