“Motoring in such blackness is dandy fun. The idea that you’re going to run into something the next minute makes it kind of spicy, eh? Gee, Bob, the rain’s coming down harder every minute. Wonder where old Dave and Victor are now?”
“Very likely taking it easy in the hotel,” grinned Bob.
“Christopher! What’s that?”
A low rumbling sound had suddenly risen above the warring of wind and rain.
“Thunder,” answered the chauffeur, briefly.
“Thunderation! I thought for a second it was a message from Dave passing right over our heads,” laughed Tom. “Some weather, this, Bob. Hello—a village beyond!—See it?”
Bob nodded.
“We’ll soon twirl that far behind us,” he said.
The faint points of light dotting the gloom gradually loomed up stronger; the white glare from their lamps at length flashed over a house by the roadside; then on another, and within a few minutes the touring car was sweeping steadily through the village.
Out from the darkness a small form seemed to literally hurl itself toward them, and, racing alongside, filled the air with vociferous barks and yelps.