The three were soon under way again, and covered many miles over the fine country roads, the weather conditions being delightful.On inquiry they found that by taking an infrequently used highway, they could save several miles.It was over an unoccupied part of country, rather wild and desolate, but they did not mind that.
They were whizzing along, talking of Tom's chances for winning the race when, after climbing a slight grade, the auto came to a sudden stop on the summit.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr.Sharp."Why are you stopping here, Tom?""I didn't stop," was the surprising answer, and the lad shoved the starting lever back and forth.
But there was no response.There was no hum from the motor.The machine was "dead.""That's queer," murmured the young inventor"Maybe a fuse blew out," suggested Mr.Damon, that seeming to be his favorite form of trouble.
"If it had you'd have known it," remarked Mr.Sharp.
"There's plenty of current in the battery, according to the registering gauge, murmured the lad."I can't understand it." He reversed the current, thinking the wires might have become crossed, but the machine would move neither backward nor forward, yet the dial indicated that there was enough power stored away to send it a hundred miles or more.
"Perhaps the dial hand has become caught," suggested Mr.Sharp."That sometimes happens on a steam gauge, and indicates a high pressure when there isn't any.Hit it slightly, and see if the hand swings back."Tom did so.At once the hand fell to zero, indicating that there was not an ampere of current left.The battery was exhausted, but this fact had not been indicated on the gauge.
"I see now!" cried Tom."It was those fellows at the hotel barn! They monkeyed with the mechanism, short circuited the battery, and jammed the gauge so I couldn't tell when my power was gone.If I had known there wasn't enough to carry us I could have recharged the battery at the hotel.But I figured that I had enough current for the entire trip, and so there would have been, if it hadn't leaked away.Now we're in a pretty pickle.""Bless my hat band!" cried Mr.Damon."Does that mean we can't move?""Guess that's about it," answered Mr.Sharp, and Tom nodded.
"Well, why can't we go on to some place where they sell electricity, and get enough to take us where we want to go?" asked the odd character, whose ideas of machinery were somewhat hazy.
"The only trouble is we can't carry the heavy car with us," replied Tom."It's too big to pick up and take to a charging station.""Then we've got to wait until some one comes along with a team of horses, and tows us in," commented Mr.Sharp."And that will be some time, on this lonely road."Tom shook his head despondently.He went all over the car again, but was forced to the first conclusion, that the reserve current had leaked away,in consequence of the meddling prank of the youth at the hotel.The situation was far from pleasant, and the delay would seriously interfere with their plans.
Suddenly, as Tom was pacing up and down the road, he heard from afar, a peculiar humming sound.He paused to listen.
"Trolley car," observed Mr.Sharp."Maybe one of us could go somewhere on the trolley and get help.There it is," and he pointed to the electric vehicle, moving along about half a mile away, at the foot of a gentle slope.
At the sight of the car Tom uttered a cry."I have it!" he exclaimed."None of us need go for help! It's right at hand!" His companions looked curiously, as the young inventor pointed triumphantly to the fast disappearing electric.
