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Updated: June 30, 2025
She had been afraid horribly afraid of some ulterior purpose behind his innocent courtesy in driving Penelope Crain to Breakaway Inn. Well, speculation now was idle, he told himself, as he noted that his speedometer had dropped from sixty to thirty in his preoccupation. He speeded again, but was soon forced to stop and ask his way into Primrose Meadows.
In a moment the ship was headed out over the Atlantic at a speed no rifle bullet had ever known. The radio speedometer needle pushed farther and farther over as the speed increased to unheard of values. Before they left the North American shoreline they were traveling faster than a mile a second.
And they made a mistake there: the prizes were a lot of folderols and doodads like poetry books and illustrated Testaments, instead of something a real live kid would want to work for, like real cash or a speedometer for his motor cycle.
Connie drew a rug about her and laughed at the wind that cut her face. It was glorious, but she glanced at the speedometer. She had come a long way. She would just run on to the next village and have some luncheon, mercy, it was three o'clock.
"Oh, I wouldn't like to venture an opinion on that," replied Duncan, "but ignorance is closely allied to criminal negligence." Clip set her deep dark eyes in a tense, strained expression. Then they all fell to thinking, and for a time conversation ceased. "Ten more telegraph poles and we run into Breakwater," announced Duncan, while Tom eyed his speedometer. "Then for our reception!"
"Delighted," replied his father-in-law. And a half hour later in Bruce's new car, which was the pride and joy of his life, they were far up the river. On a long level stretch of road Bruce "let her out to show what she could do." And Roger with his heart in his mouth and his eye upon the speedometer, saw it creep to sixty-three.
"Isn't this a peach of a ride?" "Only about six miles more to Clintonia," shouted Frank Brandon, from the front seat which he shared with Dr. Dale. Most of that six miles consisted of new concrete state road as smooth and level as a billiard table. Up and up crept the speedometer needle, and the big car seemed to be fairly flying.
They watched the radio speedometer creep up 1-2-3-4-5-6 steadily it rose as the acceleration pressed them hard against the back of the seats 8-9 still it rose as the hum of the generator became a low snarl 10-11-12 they were rocketing at twelve miles a second, the tenuous air about the ship shrieking in a thin scream of protest as it parted on the streamlined bow.
This attainment was kept quiet; not even the train crew knew what the monster had done when they reached the summit of the mountain. But Mr. Bartholomew, who rode with Tom and Ned in the cab, had held his own watch on the test and compared it every minute with the speedometer. "I am satisfied that you are going to do more than I had really hoped, Mr.
"The general principle upon which my speedometer reposes," he said solemnly, "is the coordination of the cylinder and the cone upon an angle which will have to be determined in practice, and will probably vary for different types. But it will never fall below 15 nor rise over 43."
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