wind, and Aunt Mary began to shiver as we
started on, still going slowly. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed crossly, "we
shall never get anywhere to-night if we crawl like this. Surely there's
no danger now?"

That was enough for Jimmy. He said that certainly there was no danger
now, and never had been. Opening the throttle, he began to tell me
anecdotes of a trip he had made with his Panhard over the Stelvio with
snow on the ground. If I weren't afraid now of a decent pace, he'd get
us into Toulon in no time.

I do hate to have people think I'm afraid, so of course I denied it
sharply, and we began to fly down hill. Our lamps seemed to have shut
the night down closely all around us. We didn't see much except the road
with the light flying along it; but suddenly, circling round a curve,
there appeared--dark within the brilliant circle of our Bleriot--a
great, unlighted waggon lumbering up the hill we were descending, and on
the wrong side of the road.

We were close on to it, and oh, Dad, that was a bad moment! It was made
up of lightning-quick impressions and feelings, no reasoning at all.
Jimmy was frantically blowing the horn, though it was too late to be of
much good. I had a vision of a startled Jack-in-the-box man appearing
from the bottom of the waggon to snatch wildly at the reins; the next
instant our car waltzed round just as it had in Marseilles, twisted off
the road, and, with a loud shriek from Aunt Mary, who had clutched me by
the arm, we all pitched headlong into darkness.

It felt as if we were falling for ever so long, just as it does in a
dream before you wake up with a great start; but I suppose it really
wasn't more than a second. The next thing I knew, I was on my hands and
knees among some stones; and evidently I'm vainer than I fancied, for
among other thoughts coming one on top of the other, I was glad my
_face_ wasn't hurt. I've always imagined that it must be terrible for a
girl to come to herself after an accident and find she had no face.

I scrambled to my feet and began calling to the others. I think I called
Brown first, because, you see, he is so quick in emergencies, and he
would be ready to look after the others. But he didn't speak, and the
most awful cold, sick feeling settled down on my heart. "Oh, Brown,
Brown!" I heard myself crying, just as you hear yourself in a nightmare,
and it hardly seemed more real than that. Into the midst of my calling
Aunt Mary's voice mingled, and I was than