Tom Swift and His Electric Runabout Part 26

"Something's got to give way!" puffed Tom. "Now, once more! All together!"

Suddenly they felt the rope moving. The pulleys creaked still more and, by the light of the lamp, they could see that the auto was slowly being pulled backward, out of the mud, and onto the hard road. In a few minutes it was ready to proceed again.

The rope and pulleys were put away, and, after Tom had made an examination of the car to see that it had sustained no damage, they were off again, making good time to the hotel in Burgfield, where they spent the night. They had an early breakfast, and, as Tom went out to the barn to look at his car, he saw it surrounded by a curious throng of men and boys. One of the boys was turning some of the handles and levers.

"Here! Quit that!" yelled Tom, and the meddlesome lad leaped down in fright. "Do you want to start the car and have it smash into something?" demanded the young inventor.

"Aw, nothin' happened," retorted the lad. "I pulled every handle on it, an' it didn't move."

"Good reason," murmured Tom, for he had taken the precaution to remove a connecting plug, without which the machine could not be started.

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.

CHAPTER XXIV

ON THE TRACK

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Damon. "Will the electric trolley pull us to a charging station?"

"No, we'll not need to go to a station," answered the youth. "If we can get my car to the trolley tracks I can charge my battery from there. And I think we can push the auto near enough. It's down hill, and I've got a long wire so we won't have to go too close."

"Good!" cried Mr. Sharp. "But attach the rope to the front of the car, Tom. Mr. Damon and I will pull it. You'll have to ride in it to steer it."

"We can take turns at riding," was Tom's answer, for he did not want his companions to do all the work.

"Nonsense! You ride," said Mr. Damon. "You're lighter than we are, and can steer better. It won't be any trouble at all to pull this car down hill."

It proved to be an easy task, and in a short time the "dead" auto was near enough to the electric line to permit Tom to run his charging wire over to it.

"Why bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, looking up. "There's no overhead trolley wire. The car must run on storage batteries."

"Third rail, more likely," was the opinion of Mr. Sharp and so it proved.

"I can charge from either the third rail or the trolley wire," declared Tom, who was insulating his hands in rubber gloves, and getting his wires ready. In a short time he had the proper connections made, and the much-needed current was soon flowing into the depleted battery, or batteries, for there were several sets, though the whole source of motive power was usually referred to as a "storage battery."

"How long will it take?" asked Mr. Damon.

"About two hours," answered the lad. "We'll probably have to disconnect our wires several times, whenever a trolley car comes past. By my system I can recharge the battery very quickly.

"Do you suppose the owners of the road will make any objection?" asked the balloonist.

"I'm going to pay for the current I use," explained the young inventor.

"I have a meter which tells how much I take."

The hum of an approaching car was heard, and Tom took the wires from the third rail. The car came to a stop opposite the automobile, the pa.s.sengers, as well as the crew, looking curiously at the queer racing machine. Tom explained to the conductor what was going on, and asked the fare-collector to notify those in charge of the power station that all current used would be paid for. The conductor said this would be satisfactory, he was sure, and the car proceeded, Tom resuming the charging of his battery.

Allowing plenty of reserve power to acc.u.mulate, and making sure that the gauge would not stick again, and deceive him, the owner of the speedy electric was soon ready to proceed again. They had been delayed a little over three hours, for they had to make several s.h.i.+fts, as the cars came past.

They reached their sh.o.r.e cottage late that night, and, after seeing that the runabout was safely locked in the big shed where the submarine had been built, they all went to bed, for they were very tired.

Tom sent word, the next day, to the managers of the race, that he would be on hand at the time stipulated, and announced that he had made part of the trip, as required, under the power of the auto itself.