"It won't hurt her. She's built for lust this sort
of thing!"
And over Tank A did go. Over and over she rolled,
sidewise, tumbling and sliding down the shale sides of the
great gully.
"Hold fast! Grab the rings!" cried Tom to his two
companions in the tower with him. "That's what they're for!"
Ned and Mr. Damon understood. In fact, the latter had
already done as Tom suggested. The young inventor had read
that the British tanks frequently turned turtle, and he had
this in mind when he made provision in his own for the
safety of passengers and crew.
As soon as he felt the tank careening, Tom had pressed the
signal ordering the motors stopped, and now only the force
of gravity was operating. But that was sufficient to carry
the big machine to the bottom of the gulch, whither she slid
with a great cloud of sand, shale and dust.
"Bless my--bless my--" Mr. Damon was murmuring, but he was
so flopped about, tossed from one side to the other, and it
took so much of his attention and strength to hold on to the
safety ring, that he could not properly give vent; to one of
his favorite expressions.
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