"Can you catch him?" asked Ned anxiously.
"Watch," was his chum's reply. "I haven't used my high speed gear yet. I'm afraid the fuses won't stand it, but here goes for a try, anyhow."
He threw over a switch, changed a lever and then, having pushed into place the last gear, he grasped the steering wheel more firmly.
There was need of it, for, in an instant, the electric runabout, with the motors fairly roaring, swept up the road, after the gasolene car that was almost hidden from sight in a cloud of dust. Faster and faster went Tom's car. The young inventor was listening with critical ear to the song of the machinery. He wanted to learn if it was running sweet and true, for that is how a careful mechanic tests his apparatus. Foot by foot the distance between the two cars lessened. Now the electric was lapping the rear wheels of the gasolene machine, but the driver did not know it. His whole attention was on the road ahead of him.
"Half a mile more!" cried Ned, naming the distance which yet remained of the straight stretch. "Can you do it, Tom?"
His chum nodded. He shoved the controller handle over to the last notch, and then waited an anxious second. Would the fuse carry the extra load? It seemed so, for there was a slight increase of power.
An instant later Tom gave a sudden twist to the steering wheel. It was well that he did, for he was passing the gasolene car dangerously close. Then he was ahead of it, and in a second he was three lengths in advance.
Desperately the man opened his muffler, and sought to gain by this advantage, but though his car gave off explosions like a battery of guns in action, he could not gain on Tom. The electric shot around a curve in the road, winner of the impromptu race by an eighth of a mile.
"Well," asked Tom of his chum, as he slowed down, for the road now was not so good, "did I do it?"
"You certainly did. Whew! But we did scoot along?"