e in
his mouth; and there were Aunt Lodema and Weaver. They were all smiling at
the escapade--Beryl's escapade, that is--and I don't think they realized
just at first who I was, or that I was in any sense a menace to their
peace of mind.

When we came opposite and showed no disposition to stop, or even to slow
up, I saw the smiles freeze to amazement, and then--but I hadn't the time
to look. Old King yelled something, but by that time we were skidding
around the first shed, where Shylock had been shot down on my last trip
through there. It was a new shed, I observed mechanically as we went by.
I heard much shouting as we disappeared, but by that time we were almost
through the gantlet. I made the last turn on two wheels, and scudded away
up the open trail of the pass.

CHAPTER XVI.

One More Race.

A faint toot-toot warned from behind.

"They've got out the other car," said Beryl, a bit tremulously; and added,
"it's a much bigger one than this."

I let her out all I dared for the road we were traveling; and then there
we were, at that blessed gate. I hadn't thought of it till we were almost
upon it, but it didn't take much thought; there was only one thing to do,
and I did it.

I caught Beryl by an arm and pulled her down to the floor of the car, not
taking my eyes from the trail, or speaking. Then I drove the car forward
like a cannon-ball. We hit that gate like a locomotive, and scarcely felt
the jar. I knew the make of that motor, and what it could do. The air was
raining splinters and bits of lamps, but we went right on as if nothing
had happened, and as fast as the winding trail would allow. I knew that
beyond the pass the road ran straight and level for many a mile, and that
we could make good time if we got the chance.

Beryl sat half-turned in the seat, glancing back; but for me, I was busy
watching the trail and taking the sharp turns in a way to lift the hair of
one not used to traveling by lightning. I will confess it was ticklish
going, at that pace, and there were places when I took longer chances than
I had any right to take. But, you see, I had Beryl--and I meant to keep
her.

That Weaver fellow must have had a bigger bump of caution than I, or else
he'd never raced. I could hear them coming, but they didn't seem to be
gaining; rather, they lost ground, if anything. Presently Beryl spoke
again, still looking back.

"Don't you think, Mr. Carleton, this joke has gone far enough? You hav