was danger, not infrequently, for the road was up and down
hill, over frail bridges, and along steep cliffs. It was no pleasure
tour they were on.

When a little over half the distance had been made they came to a
better road, and Tom was able to use full speed ahead. Then the
electric went so fast that, had it not been for the steel wind-shield
in front, Mr. Damon, at any rate, would have been short of breath.

"This is going some!" he cried to Tom. The lad nodded grimly, and
shoved the controller handle over to the last notch. Then came a bad
stretch and they had to slow down again. As they were about out of it
there came a little flash of fire and the motor stopped.

"Bless my overshoes!" cried Mr. Damon. "What's that; a fuse blown out?"

"No," replied Tom, with a puzzled air. "But something has gone wrong."
Hastily he got out, and made an examination. He found it was only one
of the unimportant wires which had short-circuited, and it was soon
adjusted. But they had lost five precious minutes. Tom tried to make up
for lost time, but came to a hill a little later, and this reduced
their speed.

"Do you think we can make it before twelve?" asked Mr. Damon anxiously.
"We've got to, if we're to get back before three, Tom."

"I'll try," was the calm answer, and Tom's jaw was shut still more
tightly. Once again came more favorable roads and pushing the car to
the limit the occupants were rejoiced, a little later, as they topped a
hill, to come in sight of a fairly large city.

"There's Clayton!" cried Mr. Damon.

Ten minutes later they were rolling through the main street, and as
they stopped in front of the bank, the noon whistles blew shrill and
noisily.

"You did it, Tom!" cried Mr. Damon, springing out with the valise of
securities. "Now be ready for the return trip. I'll be with you as soon
as possible."

He went up the bank steps three at a time, like some boy instead of an
elderly man. Tom looked after him for a second and then got down to oil
up his car, and make some adjustments that had rattled loose from the
rough road. Unmindful of the curious throng that gathered he crawled
under the machine with his oil-can.

He had finished his work, and was back in his seat, ready to start, but
Mr. Damon had not reappeared.

"It's taking him a good while to get that cash," thought Tom. "Maybe
the securities were no good."

But, a few minutes later, Mr. Damon came hurrying from the bank. The
valise he carr