But the gauge showed no indication that the change of speed had been felt.
"The oil pump!" came with a half gasp.

"It's broken--I'll have to--" The sentence was not finished.

A sudden, clattering roar had come from beneath the hood, a clanking jangle which told him that his eyes had sought the oil gauge too late,--the shattering, agonizing cacophony of a broken connecting rod, the inevitable result of a missing oil supply and its consequent burnt bearing.

Hopelessly, dejectedly Barry shut off the engine and pulled to one side of the road,--through sheer force of habit.

In his heart he knew that there could be no remedy for the clattering remonstrance of the broken rod, that the road was his without question, that it was beyond hope to look for aid up here where all the world was pines and precipices and driven snow, that he must go on, fighting against heavier odds than ever.