n. He had no mind to surrender tamely now
when victory was within his grasp. In a moment the big grey car shot
down the road, and the next moment it was roaring at full speed ahead.
Behind it, after a stunned moment of surprise and silent inaction,
thundered the other car, a scout car of the Blue army.

"Gee, this is going to be a real road race!" yelled Jack. "That car is
this one's twin. They can go just as fast as we can. And they're
stronger than we are, if they ever catch us--three men to three boys.
But they'll have to go some to catch us!"

For the first time since his dash across the State line when the war
began, Jack let the grey car do its best for him now. It leaped forward
along the road as if it were alive. But behind, going just as fast,
keeping the gap between the cars the same, pounded the hostile machine.

Over roads as empty as if they had been cleared by the police for a race
for the Vanderbilt cup, the two cars sped, kicking up a tremendous dust,
their exhausts roaring and spitting blue flame, and the noise of their
passage making a din that Jack thought could be heard for miles. Only
the big metal hood saved them from being cut to ribbons by the wind and
the flying dirt and stones that their mad rush threw back from the road
before them. But Jack had one big advantage, as he guessed. He knew the
country better, and he was making baffling turns every few minutes. One
thing he dared not do. He stuck to the road, afraid, at the frightful
speed, to risk a side trip into the fields, and equally afraid to slow
down, since that would mean that the other car, never very far behind,
would be able to catch up to them.

So fast they went that, by making many corner turns, Jack was able to
turn completely around without attracting the attention of the pursuing
car. He was heading straight for Bremerton, finally, and his heart
leaped at the thought that this new and unforeseen danger was going to
be thrown off. Just to lose the car behind would not be enough, he knew.
He was playing for high stakes now, and at last he slowed down--not
much, but enough to let the other car make a perceptible gain. He felt
safe now. He knew that the other car was no faster than his own, though
it was just as fast, and if he had even a hundred yards of lead, he was
sure he could hold it.

Other campfires were twinkling near by now. The sentries that guarded
them, he knew, would not fail to hear and guess at the reason for the