"Did Mr. Chase make any objection to giving you the cash?"
asked Tom, as he shoved the controller over another notch, and
caused the motor to make a higher note in its song of speed.

"Oh, no, he was very nice about it," replied Mr. Damon. "He
said he hoped our bank would pull through. Said if we needed more
cash we could have it."

It was nearly one o'clock, and they had the worst part of the
journey yet to go. Thirty miles of stiff roads lay between them
and Shopton, the last five and the first five being fairly good,
with, here and there, soft spots.

Up hill and down went the electric auto. At every opportunity
Tom let out all the speed he could draw from the motor, but there
were many times when he had to slow down. He had just made the
ascent of a steep hill, and was turning into a fairly good road,
skirting the edge of a steep cliff, when there came a sharp
report.

"Bless my soul! That's a fuse, I'm sure of it!" cried Mr.
Damon.

"No," announced Tom, as he quickly shut off the power. "It's a
puncture. One of the inner tubes of the tire has been pierced. I
was afraid of that tube."

"What have you got to do; put on a new tire?" asked Mr. Damon.