“We must have averaged pretty nearly thirty-five miles an hour!” exclaimed Willard. “Gee, I didn’t think the old Ark could do it!” “She did though. And she sounds like it. Hear that water boiling in the radiator, will you?” Tom, who had not left his seat since the start, pulled himself erect with many groans and descended to the sidewalk, rubbing his arms to get the kinks out. “I suppose,” he said, “we’re to wait here until he sends word or something.” At that moment a figure descended the steps and approached the car. “That you, Tom Benton?” asked a voice. “Yes, sir. Is that you, Mr. Chase?” The Assistant Principal clapped a hand on Tom’s shoulder and seized his hand in a tight clasp. “Tom, you saved the day, I guess,” he said. “You mean――I got him here――in time, sir?” “Yes. George had a pretty hard knock. I don’t know just how it happened. It was about five minutes before the end of the last quarter, and there was a pile-up in front of their goal. Perhaps he was kicked. Anyhow, he was senseless when we got him off. We rushed him right up here in a carriage and the doctors said it was concussion of the brain. They put him to bed and examined him and said there’d have to be an operation as the skull was fractured a little; trepanning, they call it. But they wouldn’t operate without permission of his folks. I sent another telegram then, but Mr. Connors’ wire, saying he had left, reached me a few minutes later. There was nothing to do then but wait. Half an hour ago the surgeon told me that if they didn’t operate inside an hour it might be too late. There was a pressure on the brain, it seems. They’re doing it now. There’s not much danger now, they say, but of course the poor boy will be laid up for some time. It was lucky Mr. Connors thought of getting you to bring him, Tom. If he had waited for the train he wouldn’t have got here until after ten. You must have made time, boys!” “We did,” replied Willard with emphasis. “I must get back,” said Mr. Chase. “As soon as the operation’s over I’ll let you know. Then you’d better get back to the Mosely House; that’s where I’m staying; and turn in. Of course, you aren’t thinking of going back to-night?” “No, sir, I guess about all we’re thinking about is bed,” said Tom. “If you’ll let us know when he’s out of danger we’ll go along, sir. I’m awfully glad it’s no worse than it is. Your telegram sounded pretty bad, sir.” “Things looked pretty bad when I sent it,” replied the teacher. “Well, I’ll be back in a half-hour, I guess. You boys ought to be proud of what you’ve done to-night!” “I don’t know that I’m so proud of what _we’ve_ done,” said Tom as Mr. Chase hurried back into the hospital, “but I’m certainly proud of what the old Ark has done!” And he patted the wheel affectionately. CHAPTER XXIX THE ARK SAYS GOOD-BYE