-fire fusillade from the motor, all sense of hearing was benumbed.

A craze for speed took possession of the three--Dorothy, Garrison, the
driver. The power to think on normal lines was being swept away. Such
mania as drives a lawless comet comes inevitably upon all who ride with
such space-defying speed. The one idea is more--more speed--more
freedom--more recklessness of spirit!

A village seven miles from Woodsite, calm in its half-deserted state,
with its men all at business in New York, was cleaved, as it were, by
the racing machines, while women and children ran and screamed to
escape from the path of the monsters.

The fellow behind was once more creeping up. The time consumed in
going seven miles had been barely ten minutes. In fifteen minutes
more, at his present rate of gain, the driver behind would be up
alongside, and then--who knew what would happen?

Dorothy had started as if to speak, at least a dozen times. She was
now holding on with all her strength, aware that conversation was
wholly out of the question.

Garrison was watching constantly through the glass. The race could
hardly last much longer. They were rapidly approaching a larger town,
where such speed would be practically criminal. If only they could
gain a lead and dart into town and around some corner, into traffic of
sufficient density to mask his movements, he and Dorothy might perhaps
alight and escape observation on foot, while the car led pursuit
through the streets.

About to suggest some such plan to his driver, he was suddenly sickened
by a sharp report, like a pistol fired beneath the car. He feared for
a tire, but the noise came again, and then three times, quickly, in
succession. One of the cylinders was missing. Not only was the power
cut down by a fourth, but compression in the engine thus partially
"dead" was a drag on the others of the motor.

The driver leaned forward, one hand on the buzzer of his coil, and gave
a screw a turn. Already the car was losing speed. The fellow behind
was coming on like a red-headed whirlwind. For a moment the missing
seemed to cease, and the speed surged back to the hum of the whirring
gears.

"Bang! Bang!" went the sharp report, as before, and Garrison groaned.
He was looking out, all but hopeless of escape, rapidly reflecting on
the charges that would lie against not only himself, but his chauffeur,
when he saw the red fellow plunge through the dust on a crazy, gyrating
c