"Maybe we'll telephone for Captain Colby to come and get her." Tom was at the wheel of the touring car and, once the farm was left behind, and they were on a fairly good country road, he advanced the spark and the gasoline control until they were running at twenty-five and then thirty miles an hour.
"Now, don't get gay, Tom!" warned Dick.

"This road wasn't built for racing." "Pooh, what's thirty miles an hour!" declared the fun-loving Rover, who just then felt like "letting out." "You know this machine can make fifty and better, Dick." "I know it, but you've got to have a safer road than this, Tom." "Beware of the turn!" cried Sam, who sat on the front seat with Tom, while Dick was alone in the tonneau.

"It's a bad one!" "I know it, but I'll make it," answered Tom, and then the touring car reached a bend in the road, and went whizzing around it with a sudden lurch that made Sam cling desperately to the seat and sent Dick flying from one side of the tonneau to the other.
"Tom, be careful!" cried Sam.

"Do you want to pitch me out on my head ?" "Do that again, and I'll make you let Sam drive," came from Dick.
"It was the brake--it didn't act just right," answered Tom, just a little frightened.

"I think it's loose." "Better stop and look at it," answered Dick, promptly.
"Oh, I guess it's all right," said Tom.