"We ought to make it easily," he responded brightly. "You're a heroine."
"I do not know what the roads are beyond Hedgeport," she interrupted anxiously. "It is hill country. It rained two days ago."
She had steadily increased the speed again until the indicator kept constantly around the forty-five mile mark. The speed was terrific and made conversation almost impossible.
"Hadn't you better rest? You must be tired," he screamed above the noise of the car.
"Arms are cramped," she replied, without lifting her eyes from the road ahead. "We'll take gas at Hedgeport and walk around. We will lunch somewhere near Hilton. We'll be over the worst of the road then."
"I wish I could help you," called McCarthy, after a long silence.
She shook her head, and, after the car had throbbed up the next incline and was sailing, hawklike, down the opposite side, she said:
"You'll need your strength for the game. There's Hedgeport now."
Before them, set on the hillside, lay the little city. It seemed as if the houses grew by magic as they rushed upon it. They flashed past a few market wagons, passed another auto chugging along busily, and slackened the pace as the car rolled upon the brick pavements and toward the heart of the city.
"A hundred and thirty-one miles in a little over three hours," said McCarthy, elated. "That leaves us one hundred and four miles and more than four hours to make it in. We've won."
"The road has been perfect," Betty Tabor said. "For the next fifty miles it is marked bad."
She turned quietly to ask questions of the mechanician, who was overhauling and examining every part of the machine, and examining the feed pipes. Another man was filling the tanks and using oil plentifully.
"My hands and wrists are cramped and numb," she remarked, turning to McCarthy.
"Let the man drive the rest of the way. He knows the road," he urged.
"And leave me--to miss the game?" she asked. "Not much. Rub my hands, please."
She extended her strong, firm hand and McCarthy, bending over it, massaged and slapped it vigorously.
"Don't break it, please," she said, laughing. "Take the other one."
"Both," he whispered, his voice full of meaning.
"All ready," announced the garage keeper. "I think she'll stand it now."