had been all but racing before; but
now--

Behind them the cloud of dust rose higher and higher, and darker and
darker as the suction increased. To either side was no longer yellow and
green distinct, but a mingling, indistinct, mottled unreality. Ahead the
ribbon of yellow and white seemed to rise up and throw itself into their
faces; again and again endlessly. The engine no longer moaned. It roared
as a fire under draft. The wind was a wall that held them back like a
vise in their places. In the flash of a glance the man looked at the face
of the dial. The single arm was pasted black over the numeral sixty.
Once more the throttle advanced a notch, the spark lever two--and the
hand halted at sixty-five. The wind gripped them afresh, and like human
fingers grappled with them. Up, fairly level with their eyes, lifted the
advancing yellow-white ribbon. By his side, though he did not look, the
man knew that the girl had covered her face with her hands, was
struggling against the gale to breathe. He was struggling himself,
through wide-opened nostrils, his lips locked tight. On his bare hands
the sweat gushed forth and, despite the suction, glistened bright. Yet
once more, the last time the throttle moved, the spark--and met on the
sextant. With its last ounce of power the great car responded, thrilled;
one could feel it, a vital thing. Once again the speed-hand on the
indicator stirred; but this time the man did not see it, dared not look
even for the fraction of a second. Like grim death, grim life, he clung
to the wheel; his eyes not on the road beneath but a quarter of a mile
ahead. About him the scuttling earth shaded from motley to gray; but he
did not see. A solitary tree loomed ahead beside the ribbon, and seemed
to crack like a rifle report as they flashed past. At the radiator vent a
tiny cloud of steam arose, caught the gale, and stung damp on his
cheeks. Far ahead, then nearer and nearer miraculously, a blot of green
that he knew was the tree fringe of a river, took form, swept forward to
meet them, came nearer and nearer, arose like a wall--

Back into neutral, separating until they were once more opposite, went
the two companions of the sextant. Simultaneously again the speed
indicator followed the backward trail. Incredibly swift the gale
dwindled, until it barely fanned their cheeks. The roar of the great
engine subsided, until once more it was a gentle murmur. The vivid green
and the dull yellow of summer