roaring race of the war automobiles.

And at last, making the sharpest sort of a turn, he baffled the
pursuers. Before they realized what they were doing, they were in the
midst of Colonel Abbey's regiment, and a minute later they were forced
to stop by a volley of shots, and instead of capturing the Red scout
car, as they had hoped, were themselves prisoners.

"I guess that's going some!" cried Pete, as they turned back toward the
captured car. "We got the news we were after, and we led one of their
scout cars into a trap, too. That's what I call a pretty good night's
work. Fine business, Jack! And that was certainly some ride, too! If you
hadn't been able to drive as well as you do, we'd never have got away
from them."

"We had a lot of luck," said Jack. "But it certainly was a great race!
I'll be glad to get some sleep, now. That was pretty tiring work."

CHAPTER XIII

A REAL ENEMY

Jack had led the hostile scout car into the most hopeless sort of a
trap. He had twisted and turned and doubled on his course so cleverly
that his pursuers had completely lost their sense of direction. In a
chase of that sort, with his quarry in front of him, the driver of a
racing automobile, making from sixty to seventy miles an hour, has no
chance to watch objects about him.

There Jack's almost uncanny sense of direction and locality had helped
him mightily. The speed at which he had driven his car had not at all
confused him. He had known exactly what he was doing, and just where he
was going, at all times. A few miles had taken him into country over
which he had already driven, and his memory for any place he had once
seen was phenomenal. So he had been able, by constant turning and
doubling, to fool the driver of the enemy's car completely, and lead
him, all unknowing the fate in store for him, into the very midst of the
Red troops.

Jack had taken his final turn from the road so sharply that it had been
impossible for his pursuer to turn quickly enough to follow him. Any
attempt to do so would have resulted in disaster, and, since this was
only a mock war, the driver of the other scout car was not justified in
taking the chance of killing himself and his companions in the effort to
make the turn. He had gone straight on, therefore, and a few rods had
carried him into the midst of Abbey's cavalry regiment. A minute was
enough to surround his car, and a line of troops in front of him made
him see the hopelessness