I'm going a bit faster than I like. Guess I'll shut off and put on the brakes."
The mule and wagon were now squarely across the road. Tom was coming nearer and nearer. He turned the handle-grip, controlling the supply of gasolene, and to his horror he found that it was stuck. He could not stop the motor-cycle!
"Look out! Look out!" cried Tom to the negro. "Get out of the way! I can't stop! Let me pass you!"
The darky looked up. He saw the approaching machine, and he seemed to lose possession of his senses.
"Whoa, Boomerang!" cried the negro. "Whoa! Suffin's gwine t'happen!"
"That's what!" muttered Tom desperately, as he saw that there was not room for him to pass without going into the ditch, a proceeding that would mean an upset. "Pull out of the way!" he yelled again.
But either the driver could not understand, or did not appreciate the necessity. The mule stopped and reared up. The colored man hurried to the head of the animal to quiet it.
"Whoa, Boomerang! Jest yo' stand still!" he said.
Tom, with a great effort, managed to twist the grip and finally shut off the gasolene. But it was
