With the motor idling, it seemed perfect.

Once more he started,--only to stop again and anxiously survey the ignition, test the spark plugs and again inquire into the activities of the carbureter.

At last, reassured, he walked to the front of the machine, and with the screwdriver pried the name plate from its position on the radiator and tossed it into the tumbling, yellow stream beside the road.

Then he turned back to the machine,--only to stop suddenly and blink with surprise.

The road was not level! The illusion which comes to one at the first effort to conquer a mountain grade had faded now.