"Well, then, we ought not to stand here all night," groaned Joe, his
ears open to catch the sound of the locomotive's whistle. There was no
time to be lost.

"I'll--I'll try to back her out," shouted Windomshire. Eleanor
whispered something shrilly and anxiously from the tonneau, and Joe
called out instantly:

"Who is ill?"

"Mrs.--Mrs. Smith," replied the other, bravely.

"Good!" exclaimed Dauntless, heartily. Windomshire was not in the
least annoyed by the lack of sympathy. He began to drive his car
backward by jerks and jolts, blindly trusting to luck in the effort to
reach the road which he had passed in his haste a few minutes before.
Joe was shouting encouragement and pushing slowly forward in his own
machine. The noise of the engines was deafening.

"Hang it all, man, don't blow your horn like that!" roared Windomshire
at last, harassed and full of dread. Joe, in his abstraction, was
sounding his siren in a most insulting manner.

At last Windomshire's wheels struck a surface that seemed hard and
resisting. He gave a shout of joy.

"Here we are! It's macadam!"

"Cobberly Road," cried Joe. "Back off to the right and let me run in