After their talk with John Carlton, Barry and Felix left the meeting room together, and, hurrying down the corridor, emerged on the plaza fronting the Southern side of the Capitol. The boy was all a-quiver with excitement.

"What did you mean by dumping all of those reports on John Carlton?" he asked.

Conway laughed joyously.

"That's food for thought. He must feed it out to the Committee by degrees."

"What good will it do?" asked Barry, skeptically.

"It will postpone the vote on the Cleverly bill."

"But the postponement won't do any good unless Warrington gets here."

"You've hit the nail on the head."

Barry had confidence in the resourcefulness[Pg 324] of the journalist. He felt sure that he had conceived some brilliant plan by which Warrington could be instantly and miraculously—if you will—delivered to Carlton. He wondered why Conway did not tell him all about it. His hints had not given him much satisfaction. So he spoke bluntly:

"What are you trying to do?"

The honest blue eyes of Felix twinkled. Perplexity was drowned in merriment. He threw up both hands in a gesture of abandonment.

"Blest if I know!"

Barry was so amazed at this unexpected reply that he stood stock still at the foot of the Capitol steps.

"You don't know!" he interrogated in a reproachful tone.

"No," replied the other, putting his hands in his pockets, and raising himself up and down on his heels, "I don't know."

"And you left Mr. Carlton believing that you would be back with Warrington at your heels."

"It was the only thing to do. You must[Pg 325] never say die, my boy. Fight to the last ditch, but never surrender. There is always the possibility that something may turn up. The first and most important factor in this fight was delay. We've secured that. How long Carlton will hold that crowd is more than I can predict. After that we need an additional vote. The vote is at Wynnwood."

"Yes, I know all about that—but I don't see how this talk is going to help," cried Barry, irritably.

"Nor do I," responded the imperturbable Irishman, "but do you know that sometimes in the mere act of stating a difficulty you discover a way out of it."

The boy laughed in spite of himself.

"There's no way of getting to Wynnwood—no trains, I mean," he said.

"Quite right, and Wynnwood, being obstinate, won't come to us."

"If we could locate a wireless operator, we might flash a message to Warrington," said Barry, banteringly.

[Pg 326]

"Yes," assented the other, "or if we could pick up a flying machine that wasn't otherwise engaged, it might help some."

The boy gave a gesture of dismay.

"While we're out here fooling, Mr. Carlton is probably talking himself hoarse."

Conway suddenly broke away from Barry and started across the asphalted street.

"I've got it!" he shouted. "I've got it! The very thing!"

"What is it?" cried the boy, running after him.

"Look across the street," responded the correspondent, breathlessly, "do you see that big automobile, and do you see that red-haired youth in the front seat?"

"Yes, but I don't see the connection—yet."

"You will in a second. That's Danny Burns. He was in my class at Georgetown. He's the only son of one of the rubber kings. He has all kinds of wealth; money to burn, and oceans of time to consume it."

[Pg 327]

Before Barry could reply, Conway was hailing the young man in the automobile:

"Danny! Danny!"

The red-haired one turned around indolently.

"Why, hello, you rascal, what's the matter? Running a foot race, or is the world on fire?"

"Neither, you time-killer. I want you to give me a ride in your machine."

"Well, of all the cheek you—"

"You've invited me fifty times," interrupted Felix.

"Yes, and you've declined forty-nine."

"Hurry up, or I may change my mind."

"Jump in," shouted the young millionaire.

In a thrice Conway and Barry were in the machine. After the newspaper man had presented the boy, the amateur chauffeur turned to Felix:

"Where to?"

"Straight South, and I'll tell you all about it as we go."

As the big touring car whizzed along, the newspaper man told his college chum the story[Pg 328] of the Cleverly bill. He explained the plight of John Carlton and told of the mysterious disappearance of Congressman Warrington. The question was whether it would be possible to reach Wynnwood and return to Washington before the meeting of the Committee was concluded.

The love of adventure was strong in Danny Burns' veins, and he listened with eager interest. When Felix finished his story, Danny turned the steering wheel over to Conway while he consulted road maps and made calculations regarding the possibility of landing Warrington in Washington at the time appointed.

"Say, Danny," cried Felix, as he reluctantly took hold of the wheel, "I don't know a blessed thing about this machine. I wish you'd run it yourself."

"Oh, it's only for a few minutes. If a chicken or a rabbit gets in your way, run over it. If it's a cow, turn aside. We don't want to help the trusts by sending beef any higher;[Pg 329] besides it might scratch the varnish on the car."

For a man that knew nothing whatever of motoring, Felix did fairly well. Once the machine threatened to run into a barbed wire fence, and again it skidded on a slippery stretch of road, but otherwise he managed it very creditably. He was glad enough when the owner of the car relieved him.

"I figure it out that Wynnwood is nearly twenty miles from Washington. Now if we can keep up our speed both ways and do not meet with any mishaps, there is a bare possibility that we may win out—just a bare possibility."

Felix groaned.

"That means we're beaten," he said. "When a confirmed optimist becomes cautious, it makes me believe the jig's up."

"What time must you be back?" asked Burns, ignoring the reference to himself.

"Well, the bill should come up at four o'clock."

[Pg 330]

"Well, that's what I based my calculation upon. You see, it's after three o'clock now."

Barry, who had been listening to the conversation, now spoke:

"I think, Mr. Burns," he said, "that Mr. Carlton will keep the votes back until some time after four o'clock."

"Good," cried the young man, "every minute saved in that way is a minute gained."

"Sure," responded Conway, recovering his hopeful manner at once, "and if Danny could gain a few minutes more with this old tin can of a motor car, we'd come mighty near winning the race."

Danny's answer was characteristic of that spoiled darling of fortune. He pulled the lever back one or two notches and the machine shot ahead as though it were possessed of a thousand furies, each one urging the other on to greater excesses. The shock threw Conway against the cushions and made him shake his fist at his friend in pretended anger. As for[Pg 331] Barry, the sudden rush of the machine fairly took his breath away.

They were out in the open country now on a great waste of level land where speed laws could be ignored with impunity. They soon went so swiftly that intelligible conversation was out of the question. The young page boy was enjoying it to the fullest. There was something exhilarating about it that made him close his eyes and breathe a long-drawn sigh of utter contentment. He was perfectly satisfied to remain quiet and drink in the joys of this wonderful ride.
The y............