He put on a little more speed, and was soon close up behind the load of hay, ringing his electric bell as a warning.
"I say!" called Mr. Damon to the unseen driver, "can't you turn out and let us pass?"
"Ha! Hum! Wa'al I guess not!" came the answer, in unmistakable farmer's accents. "You automobile fellers is too gol-hanged smart, racin' along th' roads. I've got just as good a right here as you fellers have, by heck!" The driver did not show himself.
"We know that," responded Tom, as quickly as he could, for he did not want to anger the man. "But our machine is so heavy that if we turn into the ditch I'm afraid we'll be mired."
"Huhl' So'll I," was the retort from the unseen driver. "Think I want t' spile my load of hay?"
"But you have wide tires on, and you wouldn't sink in far," answered the young inventor. "Besides, it's very necessary that we get past. A great deal depends on our speed."
"So it does on mine," was the reply. "Ef I git t' market late I'll have t' stay all night. an' spend money on a hotel bill."
"I'll pay it! I'll pay your bill if you'll only pull out!" cried Mr. Damon. "I'll give you a hundred dollars"
