Leaning over, Bob saw a shaggy form of nondescript color, and caught a gleam from a pair of greenish eyes.
“Nice doggie!” he chirped, soothingly.
“He’s started off every other ‘nice doggie’ in town,” chuckled Tom. “Listen!”
The baying of numerous canines, some near at hand, others in the distance, was rising on the air.
“Some up-to-the-minute constable may nab us for disturbing sleeping dogs,” said Tom.
“That’s so,” grinned Bob.
He manipulated the lever. The car leaped forward, leaving their four-footed foe far in the rear. For a few moments, his senses keenly alert for any signs of danger, he kept up the swinging gait, slowing up as the lights of a store and smithy close to it shot into view.
As they passed the latter a cheerful glow was spreading out over the street from a partly-open door. The boys caught a momentary glimpse of figures and horses within, and heard vigorous blows on an anvil sending forth a series of musical notes.
Then the long street, silent and deserted, slipped slowly by, and, presently, the motor car was threading its way in the zone where human activities seemed to have ceased. Another stretch of dreary blackness followed, with the trees, in the grip of the blasting air currents, soughing and snapping their branches mournfully.
Pelting rain still assailed the travelers. The motor car often rolled through deep pools, scattering sheets of muddy spray aside. The boys could hear the oozy, sucking sound of slimy masses torn from their resting places and spattering against the guards.