Besides, the second climb of the mountain chain was just ahead. The Speedwells struck it an hour before noon. Half way up the steep ascent they passed number seven—stuck in the muddy ruts. Chance and Burton were floundering around, trying to pry out their heavy car.
“This isn’t any fun!” shouted Poole, recognizing the Speedwells. “But how did you manage to catch up to us again?”
“We never would have escaped Chance Avery’s friends outside of Greenbaugh if he’d had his way!” cried Billy in reply. “But now I tell you what it is, Burton: It looks to me as though we were seeing you for the last time in this race. Fare thee well!” he added with a mocking smile.
“You’d better not crow too loud, youngster,” growled Dan. “We don’t know what may happen to us yet.”
But nothing could convince Billy now that they hadn’t got Poole’s car beaten. Their own lighter machine worked much better on the heavy road.
There were ten cars in advance of them when the Speedwells reached the pass through the hills and started down the incline which ended at the plain on which Riverdale, Compton, and neighboring towns were built. With seven of these cars they caught up at Lorillord at the end of their fourth day’s run. They were then seventy-two miles from Compton. The three cars ahead were respectively sixty-eight miles, fifty-nine miles, and fifty-six miles from the end of the endurance run.
“If it clears off before morning, we’re beaten,” said Dan, with confidence. “But our car is a regular mudlark. If it keeps on raining we may plough through and catch up to all three of those other cars.”
“Suppose they wait till it clears off before they start to-morrow?” suggested Billy.
“If you’ll read your little book you’ll find that isn’t allowed. There’s only fifteen hours’ recess allowed between the end of one day’s run and the beginning of another.”
The boys were first up in the morning. The weather bureau reported no hope of a change in the falling weather; but the other autoists at the hotel hesitated to set forth early.