"Guess I'll not run at full speed," decided Tom. "I wouldn't like
to crash into the RED STREAK. We'd both sink."
So he did not run his motor at the limit and sat at the steering-
wheel, peering ahead into the fog for the first sight of another
craft.
He turned to look at Mr. Duncan and was alarmed at the pallor of
his face. The man's eyes were closed and he was breathing in a
peculiar manner.
"Mr. Duncan," cried Tom, "are you worse?"
There was no answer. Leaving the helm for a moment, Tom bent over
the injured hunter. A glance showed him what had happened. The
tourniquet had slipped and the wound was bleeding again. Tom
quickly shut off the motor, so that he might give his whole
attention to the work of tightening the handkerchief. But
something seemed to be wrong. No matter how tightly he twisted
the stick the blood did not stop flowing. The lad was frightened.
In a short time the man would bleed to death.
"I've got to get him to the sanitarium in record time!" exclaimed
Tom. "Fog or no fog, I've got to run at full speed! I've got to
chance it!"
Making the bandage as tight as he could and fastening it in place,
the young inventor sprang to the motor and set it in motion. Then
he went to the wheel. In a few minutes the ARROW was speeding
through the water as it had never done before, except when it had
raced the RED STREAK.
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