"You ought to get a couple of heavy rails or fence-posts to pry up the front wheels and run her across." "That's all right, but I don't see any lying round here, do you?" Joyce snapped angrily. Then he added in a more pleasant tone, "I'll make it worth your while to put your team in here. I've got business in town that can't wait." "I'm sorry; so have I," answered Rob. "Wouldn't twenty-five make it up to you? Here it is." Joyce pulled the gold pieces from his pocket. Rob shook his head. "Business first, pleasure afterward," he said, as the team started ahead. "I'm late as it is. You can get a couple of planks over at the ranch yonder." A little way down the road Rob glanced back. "Now for the last lap," he said. "If that motor will only be kind enough to sulk for half an hour longer, I think we can just about beat him, her or it by a neck. Hurray!" "He hasn't started yet," Harry announced from time to time, looking back to see what progress their rival was making. "Why can't he stick where he is until we get there? The moment he manages to get his machine out of the mud he'll simply open everything and rush past us, and we'll not be in the race at all." "Not much. He'd bust the whole machine wide open if he struck one of these sharp rocks going fast. No, he'll wait until he gets pretty near town, where the roads are smooth, before he hits her up to top speed. So here is where we whirl in and do our level best." Rob merely touched one of the ponies with the whip, and it was enough. Both ponies started on a run. "O Rob! They're running away!" gasped Harry. "Don't worry. I'd hate to see them drop, but I'm going to get there first, or bust. Where's Joyce now?" Harry turned and knelt on the seat of the swaying buggy. "I don't see him. Yes, there he is! He's started! O Bobs! If we could only go faster!" Rob did not answer. All his attention was on the team. How they could run! With ears back and tails stretched out, they dashed on; behind them swung the buggy, bounding over mudholes and across stones and ruts. Faster and faster the ponies flew. Not daring to look back, Harry clung to the seat with both hands. Behind them came the continual blare of the horn as the motor car crept up on them, drew nearer and nearer, until, as they scrambled up the last hill, the mad clatter of the engine seemed almost in their ears. At the top of the slope, with the main street stretching before them, Rob showed no mercy. With the reins wrapped round his hands, he sat forward on the edge of the seat and urged the horses on. Down the main street they went, missing a wagon, swerving past men who ran out to stop the runaway team, and who then, seeing the motor car behind, understood, and shouted applause. In a moment the quiet street was in an uproar of excitement. Shopkeepers and customers, corner idlers and school children, old men and women, ran pell-mell after the galloping team and the motor car.