"Now, all together!" cried the lad, as he and his friends grasped the long rope. They gave a great heave. At first it seemed like pulling on a stone wall. The rope strained and the pulleys creaked. "I--guess--we--will--pull--the--bridge--over!" gasped Mr. Sharp. "Something's got to give way!" puffed Tom. "Now, once more! All together!" Suddenly they felt the rope moving. The pulleys creaked still more and, by the light of the lamp, they could see that the auto was slowly being pulled backward, out of the mud, and onto the hard road. In a few minutes it was ready to proceed again. The rope and pulleys were put away, and, after Tom had made an examination of the car to see that it had sustained no damage, they were off again, making good time to the hotel in Burgfield, where they spent the night. They had an early breakfast, and, as Tom went out to the barn to look at his car, he saw it surrounded by a curious throng of men and boys. One of the boys was turning some of the handles and levers. "Here! Quit that!" yelled Tom, and the meddlesome lad leaped down in fright. "Do you want to start the car and have it smash into something?" demanded the young inventor. "Aw, nothin' happened," retorted the lad. "I pulled every handle on it, an' it didn't move." "Good reason," murmured Tom, for he had taken the precaution to remove a connecting plug, without which the machine could not be started. The three were soon under way again, and covered many miles over the fine country roads, the weather conditions being delightful. On inquiry they found that by taking an infrequently used highway, they could save several miles. It was over an unoccupied part of country, rather wild and desolate, but they did not mind that. They were whizzing along, talking of Tom's chances for winning the race when, after climbing a slight grade, the auto came to a sudden stop on the summit. "What's the matter?" asked Mr. Sharp. "Why are you stopping here, Tom?" "I didn't stop," was the surprising answer, and the lad shoved the starting lever back and forth. But there was no response. There was no hum from the motor. The machine was "dead." "That's queer," murmured the young inventor. "Maybe a fuse blew out," suggested Mr. Damon, that seeming to be his favorite form of trouble. "If it had you'd have known it," remarked Mr. Sharp. "There's plenty of current in the battery, according to the registering gauge," murmured the lad. "I can't understand it." He reversed the current, thinking the wires might have become crossed, but the machine would move neither backward nor forward, yet the dial indicated that there was enough power stored away to send it a hundred miles or more. "Perhaps the dial hand has become caught," suggested Mr. Sharp. "That sometimes happens on a steam gauge, and indicates a high pressure when there isn't any. Hit it slightly, and see if the hand swings back."