“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
passengers, 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
accumulate, 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 shifts, as the cars came past.
They reached their shore 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.
The next day was spent in overhauling
the machinery, tightening up some loose bearings,
oiling different parts, and further charging the battery.
Tires were looked to, and the ones on the spare wheels
were gone over to prepare for any emergency that might
arise when the race was started.
On the third day, Tom, Mr. Sharp and
Mr. Damon, leaving the cottage completed the trip
to Havenford, Long Island, where the new track had
been constructed.
They reached the place shortly before
noon, and, if they had been unaware of the location
they could not have missed it, for there were many
autos speeding along the road toward the scene of
the race, which would take place the following day.
Several electric cars passed Tom and
his friends, whizzing swiftly by, but the young inventor
was not going to show off his speed until the time
came. Besides, he did not want to run any risks
of an accident. But some of the contestants seemed
anxious for impromptu “brushes,” and more
than one called to our hero to “speed up and
let’s see what she can do.” But Tom
smiled, and shook his head.
There were many gasolene and some
steam autos going out to the new track, which was
considered a remarkable piece of engineering.
It was in the shape of an octagon, and the turns were
considered very safe. It was a five mile track,
and to complete the race it would be necessary to
make a hundred circuits.
Through scores of autos Tom and his
friends threaded their way, the young inventor keeping
a watchful eye on the various types of machine with
which he would soon have to compete.
There were many kinds. Some were
larger and some smaller than his. Many obviously
carried very large batteries, but whether they had
the speed or not was another question. Some, in
spurts, seemed to Tom, to be fully as fast as his
own, and he began to have some doubts whether he would
win the race.
“But I’m not going to
give up until the five hundredth mile is finished,”
he thought, grimly.
They were now in sight of the track,
and noted many machines speeding around it.
“Go on in and try your car, Tom,” urged
Mr. Sharp.
“Yes, do,” added Mr. Damon. “Let’s
see how it travels.”
“I will, after I notify the
proper officials that I have arrived,” decided
the lad.
The formalities were soon complied
with. Tom received his entry card, after paying
the fee, made affidavit that he had completed the
entire trip from home under his own power, save for
the little stretch when the car was pulled, which
did not count against him, and was soon ready to go
on the track. Only electric cars were allowed
there.
As the young inventor guided his latest
effort in the machine line onto the big track there
were murmurs of surprise from the throngs.
“That’s a queer machine,” said one.
“Yes, but it looks speedy,” was another’s
opinion.
“There’s the car for my
money,” added a third, pointing to a big red
electric which was certainly whizzing around the track.
Tom noted the red car. Behind it was a green one,
also moving at a fast rate of speed.
“Those will be my nearest rivals,”
thought the lad, as he guided his car onto the track.
A moment later he was sending the auto ahead at moderate
speed, while the other contestants looked at the new
arrival, as if trying to discover whether in it they
would have a dangerous competitor.