“Now, don’t lose a minute,” said Dick.

“I won’t.  But we are taking chances on this road, sir, I can tell you that.”

It was still raining steadily, and the highway was a mass of oily mud,—­ a splendid compound upon which to skid.  On and on rushed the touring car at a rate of speed varying from twenty to thirty-five miles an hour.

“I could eat this road up if it was dry,” shouted the chauffeur.  “The machine is good for fifty miles an hour.”

“Well, don’t climb a tree, or a stone wall,” cautioned Dick, grimly.

Ordinarily the Rover boys might have been anxious because of such wild riding, but now every thought was centered on their father.  How he was faring, and would they be able to rescue him?

Twice the touring car made dangerous lurches to one side, once fairly brushing some trees which lined the roadway.  But the driver stuck to his post, and gained the middle of the roadway again, and rushed on as rapidly as ever.

“I’ll wager he doesn’t own the machine,” muttered Sam.  “If he did, he’d be more careful of it.”

“Well, he owns his own neck,” returned Tom, grimly.  “So maybe he’ll be careful of that.”

They passed through several small villages, the inhabitants gazing out curiously at the rushing and swaying car.  Then they took to a side road, where the traveling was worse than ever.

Suddenly the car made a turn.  They had struck a rut in the road and even the chains did not save them.  Around swung the automobile.  There was a grinding of the brakes and the power was shut off.  Then came a jar that sent the Rover boys in a heap.

“Something has happened sure!” cried Tom, who was the first to get up.

They looked out of the door of the enclosed car.  They had come up to a mass of bushes beside the road, and the left front wheel had struck a rock and was twisted around.  The mud guard on that side had crumpled up.

“I guess the journey is over—­ so far as this car is concerned,” muttered Dick, as he leaped out, followed by his brothers.

The chauffeur was trying his steering wheel.  The right wheel responded, but that which had hit the rock did not.

“Out of commission!” he said, with a frown.  “I was afraid something would happen.”

“If it’s only the steering gear it won’t cost much,” said Dick.  “How much further to that place?”

“Not over half a mile.”

“Then we’ll walk it!” cried Tom.

“Of course,” added Sam.

“Ain’t you going to pay me!” exclaimed the chauffeur, in dismay.  “I did my best.”

“Yes, I’ll pay you,” responded Dick.  “And give you an extra five for the repairs.  Now tell us just where that place is, and what sort.”

“It’s a country home,—­ a white place, set in a lot of trees,—­ with a wind mill back of the barn.  Got a green hedge in front—­ the right side of the road—­ you can’t miss it.”