smile upon his lips--he had faced the leveled rifles of the three he
had ridden down and he had not quailed. But now, his machine in the
center of the road again, he shook like a leaf, still in the grip of
the sickening nausea of that awful moment when the mighty, insensate
monster beneath him had reeled drunkenly in its mad flight, swerving
toward the ditch and destruction.
For a few minutes he held to his rapid pace before he looked around,
and then it was to see two cars climbing into the road from the
encampment in the field and heading toward him in pursuit. Barney
grinned. Once more he was master of his nerves. They'd have a merry
chase, he thought, and again he accelerated the speed of the car.
Once before he had had it up to seventy-five miles, and for a
moment, when he had had no opportunity to even glance at the
speedometer, much higher. Now he was to find the maximum limit of
the possibilities of the brave car he had come to look upon with
The road ahead was comparatively straight and level. Behind him
came the enemy. Barney watched the road rushing rapidly out of sight
beneath the gray fenders. He glanced occasionally at the
speedometer. Seventy-five miles an hour. Seventy-seven! "Going
some," murmured Barney as he saw the needle vibrate up to eighty.
Gradually he nursed her up and up to greater speed.
Eighty-five! The trees were racing by him in an indistinct blur of
green. The fences were thin, wavering lines--the road a white-gray
ribbon, ironed by the terrific speed to smooth unwrinkledness. He
could not take his eyes from the business of steering to glance<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>