."

Jack hastily told the doctor of his father's stroke. The medical man
looked grave.

"I'll go with you just as soon as I can pack my bag," he said. "Your
father had been overworking. I warned him of what would happen if he
did not rest up, some time ago, but he has, seemingly, disregarded my
advice."

In a few minutes the doctor, muffled up in a raincoat, was ready to
start. But he stipulated that the run to High Towers should be made by
the road.

"I like excitement as well as anybody," he said, "and I've been up in
your Wondership before----"

"When it was the Roadracer," interpolated Jack.

"Exactly; but I must confess that when I saw you a short time ago
looking like a floating ball of fire, I lost my taste for aerial
travel."

"We'll go back by road, then," said Jack, as through the rain, which
was falling in torrents, they ran to the Wondership.

"My, but you have it snug in here," said the doctor, as he entered the
tight, waterproof cabin.

"Hang up your coat, doctor," said Tom, and he took the physician's
dripping mackintosh and slung it on a hook attached to one of the
stanchions. Then the start was made, with the bag partially deflated
and lying in limp, wet folds on its framework.

Through the night, under skies fretted with lightning, the Wondership
shot forward. Out on the open road Jack ordered full speed, the great
searchlights illuming the roadway as if it were day. He felt little
apprehension of meeting other vehicles. The night was too bad to
permit of any save emergency traveling.

The roads were deep in mud, and water spurted up from the wheels of
the flying car as it raced through the storm. But seated snug and dry
in the cabin none of them bothered about this. Little was said. Jack
had to concentrate his mind on handling the Wondership, for driving
under the conditions, and at such speed, required all the
wheel-handler's attention.

On and on they flew, down hills and over bridges, under which,
ordinarily, quiet streams flowed, but now swollen by the rains, they
boiled and raced like angry torrents. They flashed through villages
and past farmhouses without encountering a soul, while overhead the
tempest roared and raged and flared.

They were shooting down a hill at top speed when Jack suddenly gave a
gasp. Right in front of them, vividly outlined in the searchlight's
glare, was an obstacle. A big wagonload of hay, covered with a
tarpaulin, and deserted by its driver who, desp