now is the time to get it."

The lad ran to the shed where his charging wires were, and they were
connected in a trice. He allowed twenty-five minutes for the charging,
as he knew with his improved battery he could get enough current in
that time to finish the contest. Before the red and green car drivers
had finished installing new batteries, for they could not recharge as
quickly as could our hero, Tom was on the track again. But, in a little
while, his two rivals were after him.

It was now a spectacular race. Around and around swept the three big
cars. All the others were practically out of it. The crowd became
lively airs. Mile after mile was reeled off. The day was passing. Tired
and covered with dust from the track, Tom still sat at the steering
wheel.

"Two laps more!" cried Mr. Sharp, as the starter's pistol gave this
warning. "Can you get away from 'em, Tom?"

The red and the green cars were following closely. The young inventor
looked back and nodded. He turned on more power, almost to the
limit--that he was saving for the final spurt. But after him still came
the two big cars. Suddenly the red car shot ahead, just as the last lap
was beginning. The green tried to follow, but there was a flash of
fire, a loud report, and Tom knew a fuse had blown out. There was no
time for his rival to put in a new one. The race was now between Tom
and the red car. Could the lad catch and pass it?

They were now only a mile from the finish. The red car was three
lengths ahead. With a quick motion Tom turned on the last bit of power.
There seemed to come a roar from his Motor and his car shot ahead. It
was on even terms with the red car when what Tom had been fearing for
the last five minutes happened: his fuse blew out.

"Too bad! It's all up with us!" cried Mr. Sharp.

"No!" cried Tom in a ringing voice. "I've got an emergency fuse ready!"
He snapped a switch in place, putting into commission another fuse. The
motor that had lost speed began to pick it up again. Tom had pulled
back the controller handle, but he now shoved it forward again, notch
by notch, until it was at the limit. He had fallen back from the red
car, and the occupants of that, with a yell of triumph, prepared to
cross the line a winner.

But, like a race horse that nerves himself for the last desperate
spurt, Tom's machine fairly leaped ahead. With his hands gripping the
rim of the steering wheel, until it seemed that the bones of his
fingers woul