"Over the top--yes, I hope," answered Tom, with a laugh.
"How about you down there?" he called to the engine room
through a telephone which could only be used when the
machinery was not in action, there being too much noise to
permit the use of any but visual signals after that.
"All right," came back the answer. "We're ready when you
are."
"Then here we go!" said Tom. "Hold fast, Ned! Of course
there's no real telling what will happen, though I believe
we'll come out of it alive."
"Cheerful prospect," murmured Ned.
The grippers were now in place. It only remained for the
tank to propel herself over them, pick them up on the other
side of Tinkle Creek, and proceed on her course.
Tom Swift hesitated a moment, one hand on the starting
lever and the other on the steering wheel. Then, with a
glance at Ned, half whimsical and half resolute, Tom started
Tank A on what might prove to be her last journey.
Slowly the ponderous caterpillar belts moved around on the
sprocket wheels. They ground with a clash of steel on the
surface of the spanners.
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