Suddenly they felt the rope moving. The pulleys creaked still more and, by the light of the lamp, they could see that the auto was slowly being pulled backward, out of the mud, and onto the hard road. In a few minutes it was ready to proceed again.
The rope and pulleys were put away, and, after Tom had made an examination of the car to see that it had sustained no damage, they were off again, making good time to the hotel in Burgfield, where they spent the night. They had an early breakfast, and, as Tom went out to the barn to look at his car, he saw it surrounded by a curious throng of men and boys. One of the boys was turning some of the handles and levers.
"Here! Quit that!" yelled Tom, and the meddlesome lad leaped down in fright. "Do you want to start the car and have it smash into something?" demanded the young inventor.
"Aw, nothin' happened," retorted the lad. "I pulled every handle on it, an' it didn't move."
"Good reason," murmured Tom, for he had taken the precaution to remove a connecting plug, without which the machine could not be started.
The three were soon under way again, and covered many miles over the fine country roads, the weather conditions being delightful. On inquiry they found that by taking an infrequently used highway, they could save several miles. It was over an unoccupied part of country, rather wild and desolate, but they did not mind that.
They were whizzing along, talking of Tom's chances for winning the race when, after climbing a slight grade, the auto came to a sudden stop on the summit.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Sharp. "Why are you stopping here, Tom?"
"I didn't stop," was the surprising answer, and the lad shoved the starting lever back and forth.
But there was no response. There was no hum from the motor. The machine was "dead."