their own
roar heard the same deep steady rumble that had preceded the coming of
the first German force. The sound was so similar he knew instinctively
that it was made by a second detachment, advancing along the same road,
but miles back. Their own headlong speed would carry them directly into
it, and, as he saw it, they were completely trapped.

He leaned over, put a hand on the shoulder of Carstairs, and shouted in
his ear:

"A second army of the enemy is in front, and we're going into it at the
rate of a mile a minute!"

"Never mind!" Carstairs shouted back. "I know a little road not far
ahead, leading off from this almost due westward. I'm going to take it,
but it's a sharp turn. Hold tight you two!"

"For God's sake, Carstairs, slow up a little on the curve!"

But Carstairs made no answer. He did not even hear him now. He lay
almost upon the wheel, and his eyes never left the track in front of
him. He was the jockey riding his horse to victory in the greatest of
all races.

Wharton ceased to feed the machine gun. The use for it had passed now.
They were rapidly gaining on the pursuit, but the same speed was
bringing them much nearer to the second force. He wondered if Carstairs
really knew of that branch road, or if it were some wild idea flitting
through his mad brain. As it was, he laid his rifle on the floor of the
car, and commended his soul to God.

"Now!" suddenly shouted Carstairs, and it seemed to Wharton that they
were whirling in a dizzy circle. Carstairs boasted afterwards that they
made the curve on one wheel, but Wharton was quite sure that they made
it on air.

They shot into a narrow road, not much more than a path leading through
woods, and when Wharton looked back the pursuit was not in sight. They
were now going almost at a right angle from either force, leaving both
far behind, and Wharton suggested to Carstairs that he slow down--John
had already ceased firing, because there was nothing to fire at. But his
words were in vain. Carstairs would not yet come out of his frenzy. As
John had talked to his gun he was now talking to his machine, bestowing
upon it many adjectives of praise.

Wharton gave up the task as useless and sank back in his seat. He must
let the fever spend itself. Besides he was gaining supreme confidence in
the driving of Carstairs. The Englishman had shown such superb skill
that Wharton was beginning to believe that he could drive the car a mile
a minute anywhere s