“Pretty brisk, too,” murmured Tom. “Must be a busy time of day.”
Clang, clang, clang!
In response to the insistent warnings of a rapidly-approaching electric car he drew near the curb. Then a two-horse dray swung sharply off from the car tracks and compelled him to come to a stop.
Tom was just in the humor to call out gruffly:
“Hey, there! Where are you going?”
But the trolley car at that instant whizzed rapidly past, and the boy concluded, just in time to check the remark, that the driver of the dray was justified in his action.
This far from exciting incident was the only one which marked the passage of the motor car through the streets of Racine. Tom, however, drew a long, deep breath of relief when clanging gongs, blasts of automobile horns and the rattle of wagons were but a memory and the open country lay stretched once more before him.
In the middle distance the moisture-laden air seemed to dip down, and through this veil the views beyond were revealed in misty patches. Every minute it looked as if the scudding clouds would begin to dissolve themselves in torrents of driving rain. All vegetation glistened with cold gray reflections caught from above. Yet, as the motor car sent the mile-stones, one after another, slipping past, the expected did not happen.
“It will mighty soon, though, I’m thinking,” mused Tom. “By gum, this is rather lonely work. Houses ahead! Good! Signs of life out here are certainly scarce.”
It was a very pretty little village along the principal street of which the car presently rolled. He caught several glimpses of men working in fields; of others gathered in front of a store. They hailed him; he sent an answering salute; then, in a few moments, the last house had been reached and passed.