Tom hung up the receiver and he and Willard returned to the sidewalk. Tom was so busy bewailing the misfortune—for Saturday was the one day in the week when The Ark was sure to do a good business—that it was not until they were almost at the curbing that either discovered that the automobile was not there!
“What——” began Tom.
“Where——” exclaimed Willard.
But their unfinished questions were soon answered. From down near Main Street came a thump, thump, thumping that told the story. Moving steadily and slowly along was The Ark. In the front seat Jerry Lippit was to be seen moving this way and that, and occasionally looking back along the street. Catching sight of Tom and Willard in the distance, he waved a hand. Tom broke into a series of remarks far from flattering to Jerry, but Willard saved his breath for running.
“He’ll smash into something sure as shooting!” exclaimed Tom as he caught up with Willard. “Why, he never ran a car in his life! I—I’ll lick him good and hard when I catch him, the silly chump!”
At that moment The Ark reached Main Street and bumped across it, avoiding a dray by the merest good fortune, and continuing on its way toward The Hill. The pursuers gave sighs of relief when they saw that the car had escaped the dangers of Main Street. Luckily, The Ark was running on first speed and the boys were running on high! And half way through the next block they got within hailing distance.
“Jerry! Stop this minute!” shouted Willard.
Jerry turned in his seat for a brief look behind and shouted something that neither of the others could hear, but the car kept on going.
“I’ll kick you around the block when I get you!” bawled Tom. “You stop that car this instant, you—you——”
But Willard had managed a final sprint and had now reached the running-board, and The Ark stopped her thumping and drew up at the side of the street. Tom, filled with rage, made a leap at Jerry, but one glance at that youth’s face was sufficient. Jerry was as white as a sheet, although he was trying now very hard to smile.