"That's the way to do it! Whoop her up, Andy! Shove the spark lever over, and turn on more gasolene! We'll make a record this trip." Two lads in the tonneau of a touring car, that was whirling along a country road, leaned forward to speak to the one at the steering wheel. The latter was a red-haired youth, with somewhat squinty eyes, and not a very pleasant face, but his companions seemed to regard him with much favor. Perhaps it was because they were riding in his automobile. "Whoop her up, Andy!" added the lad on the seat beside the driver. "This is immense!" "I rather thought you'd like it," remarked Andy Foger, as he turned the car to avoid a stone in the road. "I'll make things hum around Shopton!" "You have made them hum already, Andy," commented the lad beside him. "My ears are ringing. Wow! There goes my cap!" As the boy spoke, the breeze, created by the speed at which the car was traveling, lifted off his cap, and sent it whirling to the rear. Andy Foger turned for an instant's glance behind. Then he opened the throttle still wider, and exclaimed: "Let it go, Sam. We can get another. I want to see what time I can make to Mansburg! I want to break a record, if I can." "Look out, or you'll break something else!" cried a lad on the rear seat. "There's a fellow on a bicycle just ahead of us. Take care, Andy!" "Let him look out for himself," retorted Foger, as he bent lower over the steering wheel, for the car was now going at a terrific rate. The youth on the bicycle was riding slowly along, and did not see the approaching automobile until it was nearly upon him. Then, with a mean grin, Andy Foger pressed the rubber bulb of the horn with sudden energy, sending out a series of alarming blasts. "It's Tom Swift!" cried Sam Snedecker. "Look out, or you'll run him down!"