“Couldn’t I take the wheel a while? I guess I wouldn’t be any more scared to run the car than I am sitting here watching for trouble!”
“I’ll stick it out,” answered Tom grimly. “There can’t be much further to go.”
After that silence reigned for several miles. Occasionally a dim reddish glow from the back of the car told them that Mr. Connors was fighting nervousness with cigars. On and on, mile after mile, sped The Ark, never once faltering in its task. Willard’s eyes became heavy, and once, forgetting his anxiety, he actually slumbered for a moment between jounces! Then Tom’s voice startled him into full wakefulness.
“Finley Falls,” said Tom briefly.
Ahead of them the sky glowed as from the many lights of a city. The road began to show small houses on each side, the homes of truck-farmers. Then a factory loomed dark and formless at the left, and they crossed a stream that fell over a dam and drowned for an instant the noise of the car. And then, almost before they realized it, they were in the outskirts of the town and The Ark was running smoothly in the rails of a trolley road. Lights flashed from houses that clustered closer and closer together. Vehicles began to dispute the crossings with them and Tom was forced to slow down. Then cobblestones took the place of dirt under the wheels, stores appeared, flooding the street with light, and The Ark was at the end of its journey.
And yet not quite, for when Tom stopped in front of a brilliant drug-store and Willard leaped out to make inquiries they found that they must traverse the center of town before they could reach the hospital. That was slow work, for it was a Saturday night and Finley Falls was a busy place, and more than once Tom had to stop at crossings or crawl along for rods at a time behind slow-moving trolley cars and teams. But once through the shopping district Tom sped faster again and a few minutes later The Ark was brought to a final halt in front of a big building with many lighted windows and a wide doorway at the top of a flight of granite steps. Mr. Connors was out almost before the car stopped and was hurrying toward the entrance. But half-way up the steps the boys saw him stop. He stood quite motionless for a moment. Then he went on slowly and was lost to sight within the building.
Tom sighed. “I hope we got him here in time,” he said softly.
“So do I,” agreed Willard as he climbed stiffly out and stretched his legs. “I wonder how long it took us, Tom.”
“What time is it now?”