faster it ran, until it was moving at a speed scarcely less than that of Mr. Damon's car, when it was doing its best. Of course that was not saying much, for the car owned by the odd gentleman was not a very powerful one, but it could make fast time occasionally.
"Is this the best you can do?" asked Mr. Damon. "Not that it isn't fast," he hastened to add, "and I was wondering if it was your limit."
"Not half!" cried Tom, as he turned on a little more power. "I'm not trying for a record to-day. I just want to see how the battery and motor behaves."
"Pretty well, I should say," commented Mr. Sharp.
"I'm satisfied—so far," agreed the lad.
They were now moving along the highway at a good speed—moving almost silently, too, for the motor, save for a low hum, made no noise. So quiet was the car, in fact, that it was nearly the cause of a disaster. Tom was so interested in the performance of his latest invention, that, before he knew it, he had come up behind a farmer, driving a team of skittish horses. As the big machine went past them, giving no warning of its approach, the steeds reared up, and would have bolted, but for the prompt action of the driver.
