The grade was yet easy and there was no evidence of strain upon the engine; the tiny rivulets which ran along the slight ruts at each side of the road betokened nothing to him save the slight possibility of chains, should a muddy stretch of straightaway road appear later on.

But as yet, that had not occurred, and Barry was living for the moment.
The road began to twist slightly, with short raises and shorter level stretches winding among the aspens and spruces, with sudden, jagged turns about heavy, frowning boulders whose jutting noses seemed to scrape the fenders of the car, only to miss them by the barest part of an inch.

Suddenly Barry found himself bending forward, eyes still on the road in spite of his half-turned head, ears straining to catch the slightest variation of the motor.

It seemed to be straining,--yet the long, suddenly straight stretch of road ahead of him seemed perfectly level; downhill if anything.

More and more labored became the engine.
Barry stopped, and lifting the hood, examined the carbureter.