“When it was the Roadracer,” interpolated Jack.

“Exactly; but I must confess that when I saw you a short time ago looking like a floating ball of fire, I lost my taste for aerial travel.”

“We’ll go back by road, then,” said Jack, as through the rain, which was falling in torrents, they ran to the Wondership.

“My, but you have it snug in here,” said the doctor, as he entered the tight, waterproof cabin.

“Hang up your coat, doctor,” said Tom, and he took the physician’s dripping mackintosh and slung it on a hook attached to one of the stanchions.  Then the start was made, with the bag partially deflated and lying in limp, wet folds on its framework.

Through the night, under skies fretted with lightning, the Wondership shot forward.  Out on the open road Jack ordered full speed, the great searchlights illuming the roadway as if it were day.  He felt little apprehension of meeting other vehicles.  The night was too bad to permit of any save emergency traveling.

The roads were deep in mud, and water spurted up from the wheels of the flying car as it raced through the storm.  But seated snug and dry in the cabin none of them bothered about this.  Little was said.  Jack had to concentrate his mind on handling the Wondership, for driving under the conditions, and at such speed, required all the wheel-handler’s attention.

On and on they flew, down hills and over bridges, under which, ordinarily, quiet streams flowed, but now swollen by the rains, they boiled and raced like angry torrents.  They flashed through villages and past farmhouses without encountering a soul, while overhead the tempest roared and raged and flared.

They were shooting down a hill at top speed when Jack suddenly gave a gasp.  Right in front of them, vividly outlined in the searchlight’s glare, was an obstacle.  A big wagonload of hay, covered with a tarpaulin, and deserted by its driver who, despairing of mounting the hill in the storm, had unhitched his horses and driven off till the weather cleared.

The wagon was in such a position that it blocked the road, which was sunken between high banks at that point.  Jack ground down his brakes in chagrin.

“Blocked!” he exclaimed disgustedly.

CHAPTER XXI.

Vaulting to the rescue.

“What awful luck,” muttered Tom.

“Isn’t there any way we can get by?” inquired the doctor anxiously.  “It’s important that I should reach Mr. Chadwick as soon as possible.”

Jack made no reply, but bent over the gas-valve.  In an instant the gas was hissing into the balloon bag.  Its wet folds swelled out, and presently Jack started the propellers.  Like a racehorse leaping a barrier, the Wondership rose skyward.

“Hold fast!” cried the boy in a triumphant voice.

“Wow!” yelled Tom, “there are more ways of killing a cat than by choking it with cream.”