The love of adventure was strong in Danny Burns' veins, and he listened with eager interest. When Felix finished his story, Danny turned the steering wheel over to Conway while he consulted road maps and made calculations regarding the possibility of landing Warrington in Washington at the time appointed. "Say, Danny," cried Felix, as he reluctantly took hold of the wheel, "I don't know a blessed thing about this machine. I wish you'd run it yourself." "Oh, it's only for a few minutes. If a chicken or a rabbit gets in your way, run over it. If it's a cow, turn aside. We don't want to help the trusts by sending beef any higher; besides it might scratch the varnish on the car." For a man that knew nothing whatever of motoring, Felix did fairly well. Once the machine threatened to run into a barbed wire fence, and again it skidded on a slippery stretch of road, but otherwise he managed it very creditably. He was glad enough when the owner of the car relieved him. "I figure it out that Wynnwood is nearly twenty miles from Washington. Now if we can keep up our speed both ways and do not meet with any mishaps, there is a bare possibility that we may win out--just a bare possibility." Felix groaned. "That means we're beaten," he said. "When a confirmed optimist becomes cautious, it makes me believe the jig's up." "What time must you be back?" asked Burns, ignoring the reference to himself. "Well, the bill should come up at four o'clock." "Well, that's what I based my calculation upon. You see, it's after three o'clock now." Barry, who had been listening to the conversation, now spoke: "I think, Mr. Burns," he said, "that Mr. Carlton will keep the votes back until some time after four o'clock." "Good," cried the young man, "every minute saved in that way is a minute gained." "Sure," responded Conway, recovering his hopeful manner at once, "and if Danny could gain a few minutes more with this old tin can of a motor car, we'd come mighty near winning the race." Danny's answer was characteristic of that spoiled darling of fortune. He pulled the lever back one or two notches and the machine shot ahead as though it were possessed of a thousand furies, each one urging the other on to greater excesses. The shock threw Conway against the cushions and made him shake his fist at his friend in pretended anger. As for Barry, the sudden rush of the machine fairly took his breath away. They were out in the open country now on a great waste of level land where speed laws could be ignored with impunity. They soon went so swiftly that intelligible conversation was out of the question. The young page boy was enjoying it to the fullest. There was something exhilarating about it that made him close his eyes and breathe a long-drawn sigh of utter contentment. He was perfectly satisfied to remain quiet and drink in the joys of this wonderful ride. [Illustration: The young page boy was enjoying it to the fullest _See page 331_]