She found it took quite a vicious pull on the gears to "put her in low." And the instant it clicked into place, the car shot forward out of the garage with a violent pull that dashed them against the seat and took their breath away. And there was a tearing and crashing of wood--the garage door was none too wide-- "Father's fault," shouted Zee, pulling on the wheel for dear life. "Just splintered a little." "Slow up," cried Treasure. The car was in the main road now, swerving over the corner to the right, which fortunately was a low grassy bank with no curbing. Zee, rocking dizzily in her seat, moved the wheel from side to side at such a furious pace that she kept the car almost inside the road, and clear of the ditches on either side. "Go slow," begged Treasure. "I can't," cried Zee. "She must be leaking." After two blocks of riotously dangerous riding, Zee remembered that if she shoved with her left foot it did something to stop it--and she shoved, and the engine lifted, and the car slowed down. She turned a white anxious face toward Treasure. "That was some speed," she gasped. "Watch the road, Zee. You had the gas thing in the middle instead of the sparker thing--" "Oh, sure enough, wasn't that silly?" Zee put the hand feeder in its proper place and prepared to start again. "I know how to drive this car--I know how, and I will do it," she said between her teeth. She put it into low again, and started once more, very slowly. "Put it into second now," suggested Treasure. Zee shoved the gear shift grimly forward--into reverse--and there was a grinding of wheels and a curious sound of stripping gears that would have broken the heart of an older driver. Zee discovered her mistake, and remedied it quickly, pulling the gear into low once more, ready for a fresh start. "Oh, Zee, let me drive," begged Treasure. "I am sure I can do it." By rare good fortune, Zee succeeded in getting it into second gear, and finally, with a tearing racket, into high, and leaned back in her seat. "This is something like, now," she panted, releasing her scarlet lip from between her teeth. "The fender is all bent," mourned Treasure. "Oh, father'll fix it. See how well we're going now." Treasure said nothing. They were not yet home, and there was a wagon coming toward them. Zee swung the car to the right to pass the wagon--too far--she was fairly in the ditch at the side--with a wild turn of the wheel they bumped into the road again, the fender banging the back wheel of the wagon. "Hay, you blithering--" shouted the man angrily, and then, seeing their predicament, he pulled off to the side of the road and turned about in his seat staring after them.