“Just twenty-four minutes past eight.”
“We left at six-fifty-two. That makes it an hour and—and thirty-two minutes. If it’s about fifty-two miles that’s pretty good time! Especially as we had to crawl through the city when we got here!”
“We must have averaged pretty nearly thirty-five miles an hour!” exclaimed Willard. “Gee, I didn’t think the old Ark could do it!”
“She did though. And she sounds like it. Hear that water boiling in the radiator, will you?”
Tom, who had not left his seat since the start, pulled himself erect with many groans and descended to the sidewalk, rubbing his arms to get the kinks out. “I suppose,” he said, “we’re to wait here until he sends word or something.”
At that moment a figure descended the steps and approached the car. “That you, Tom Benton?” asked a voice.
“Yes, sir. Is that you, Mr. Chase?”
The Assistant Principal clapped a hand on Tom’s shoulder and seized his hand in a tight clasp. “Tom, you saved the day, I guess,” he said.
“You mean—I got him here—in time, sir?”