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Updated: May 24, 2025
Gray's trowsers on a fense, although torn, but that he ran into a tree because of going very fast and skiding. He would have gone through the wind-shield, but that it was down. I was by that time mollafied and sorry I had been so angry, especialy as Tom said: "Father ofered a hundred dollars reward for his capture, and as you have been adviseing me to save money, I went after the hundred."
Tom, however, had decided upon a plan of action. He steered his machine in toward the curb, ran up the steel wind-shield, and called: "Mr. Berg!" "Eh? What's that?" asked the agent, in some surprise. Then, as he caught sight of Tom, and recognized him, he added: "I'm very busy now, my young friend. You'll have to excuse me." "I won't detain you a moment," went on Tom, casually.
Of course, Ruth Fielding had no proper automobile outfit, and Helen had not expected such an emergency when she had started with her crippled brother for this afternoon run. She had no goggles, nor any mask; but she had the presence of mind to raise the wind-shield. Already they could have heard the steady roaring of the advancing flood had not the racing motor car drowned all other sounds.
"I'll look over the wind-shield," he added, to Roger, and lifted a corner of the front curtain for that purpose. "You'll get wet, Dave." "Not a great deal, and I'd rather do that than have an accident," was the reply. Roger had thrown the car into low gear, so that the power was really acting as a sort of brake. Slowly they slid along, over the wet stones and dirt.
When he was half way across the mesa, the front tires of the Don’s car had been punctured by nails driven through a board and hidden in the sand of the road. Evidently the Don had risen to alight and investigate when he had been shot, for his body had been found hanging across the wind-shield of the car with a bullet hole through the head.
At the curb a low-bodied, high-power car, with the top flung back and the wind-shield up, lay sidled against the coping. "Get right in, Mrs. Fischlowitz. Burk, put under Mrs. Fischlowitz's both feet a heater." A second man, in too-accentuated livery of mauve and astrakhan, flung open the wide door. A glassed-in chauffeur, in more mauve and astrakhan, threw in his clutch. The door slammed. Mrs.
It was no pleasure tour they were on. When a little over half the distance had been made they came to a better road, and Tom was able to use full speed ahead. Then the electric went so fast that, had it not been for the steel wind-shield in front, Mr. Damon, at any rate, would have been short of breath. "This is going some!" he cried to Tom.
I struck the ground at an angle of about 30 degrees, the motor, which was just hanging on, spilled out, and I went skidding along, with the fuselage of the machine, the landing chassis having been snapped off as though the braces were so many toothpicks. One of my ankles was broken and the other one sprained, and my poor old nose received and withstood a severe contact with my wind-shield.
Men and women staring out from a sight-seeing car turned their heads with a common accord, their attention arrested by something intangible. Then as the megaphone operator lowered his voice it became pregnant with importance. To visitors from Paris, Kentucky, Berlin, Iowa, and Cairo, Illinois, he confided, "The gentleman by the car with the broken wind-shield is Hamilton Burton." It was enough.
Birdie did, and another ten minutes was lost while they went around to the refreshment room. The storm was at its height when at four o'clock they started on that mad drive home. The shrieking wind, the wet, slippery streets, the lightning flashing against the blurred wind-shield, the crashes of thunder that drowned all other sounds, were sufficient to try the nerves of the steadiest driver.
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