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Updated: April 30, 2025
On the other side was a large red biplane flying steadily and keeping about level with the Golden Butterfly. Far behind lagged a monoplane. The other contestants had dropped out of the race. They were so manifestly out of it that their drivers did not care to continue. A glance at the speedometer showed Peggy's two passengers that they were reeling off fifty-five miles an hour.
The Earth loomed gigantic above them! Below them shone the sun! The direction of up and down was changed by the terrific speed! The needle of the speedometer was wavering at 7.8 miles a second. Now it held steady! "I thought you were going to take it up to eight miles a second, Dick?" "Air resistance is too great! I'll have to go higher!"
That and the speedometer were both on my side of the cabin, and as I turned to take a reading from the former I could see Perry muttering. "Ten degrees rise it cannot be possible!" and then I saw him tug frantically upon the steering wheel. As I finally found the tiny needle in the dim light I translated Perry's evident excitement, and my heart sank within me.
Why, it's like spring." Jim headed the car in the direction of Salem and the speedometer registered thirty miles. "Why didn't you promise mother not to go over forty miles an hour?" Lois asked. "Because I knew she wouldn't let us go," Jim replied. "Isn't this fast enough for you?" Lois looked up at him over her brown furs.
So they wheeled and flew, Z. endeavouring to bring his gun to bear, the German keeping skilfully out of range, now above him, now below, but ever and always behind. Thus the Boche flying on Z.'s tail had him at his mercy; a bullet ripped his sleeve, another smashed his speedometer, yet another broke his gauge slowly and by degrees nearly all Z.'s gear is either smashed or carried away by bullets.
After letting contracts for Milk and Vegetables, Loretta and the other specimens of our Best People zipped over to the Country Club, breaking into silvery Laughter every time the Speedometer made a Face at the Sign-Board which said that the Speed Limit was 12 Miles an Hour.
Then, with a haste that could be called nothing less than precipitate, he made a turn and fairly shot out of the door by which he had entered the tank. "There he goes!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my speedometer, but there he goes!" "I'll stop him!" cried Ned. "We've got to find out more about him! I'll get him, Tom!" Tom Swift was not one to let a friend rush alone into what might be danger.
Call out the figures to us, for we must keep our eyes on the valves." Slowly the speed indicator hand, which was like that of an automobile speedometer, swept over the dial. "Fifty miles a second," read off Mark. The two professors shoved the levers over still more. "Seventy-five," called Jack. "Give it a little more of the positive current," directed Mr. Roumann.
She jumped down, threw the gate wide open, propped it back with a stone knowing full well how the farmers and cattlemen hereabouts builded their gates to shut automatically, drove through in such haste that she grazed the gate itself and so jarred it into closing behind her, and was again glancing from road to speedometer twenty-five, thirty-five, a turn to negotiate, seen far ahead, dropping back to twenty-five, to twenty.
"Hundred and eighty," stated the more experienced Tom. "All too low," said John. "We're going just exactly two hundred and fifty, if this speedometer doesn't lie!" He now announced that he was going to throw in the idle engine. This was done successfully, and under the extra power they were soon making the remarkable speed of three hundred miles an hour!
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