llen star, gleaming cheerfully through the trees.

He sensed rather than saw a quick stiffening of Terry's already tense
little body; fancied that the car was steadily taking on greater speed,
read Terry's purpose in a flash. If he forced her to carry him, why
then she would take him as far out of his way as possible.

"Terry Temple!" he cried sharply, leaning in a little toward her.
"What's the matter with you anyway? What if we're not friends exactly?
I never did you any harm, did I? Why, good Lord, girl, when a man
tells you his horse has been shot under him; when he is trying to
overhaul the crook at the bottom of the whole mess whom you hate as
well as I do-- Oh, I mean Blenham and you know it----"

"Liar!" cried Terry, flashing her eyes at him, and back to the road
alternately white with the moon and black with shadows. "Liar on two
counts! Didn't I see your horse this afternoon? Tied in front of
Wimble's whiskey joint? Oh, it's where I'd expect him! Well--and you
needn't think I looked to see or cared, either--when I came by just
now, leaving town, I saw your horse standing there yet. So you
needn't----"

"That couldn't be," muttered Steve. "And yet-- Anyhow, I've got to
get off here. Will you stop, please?"

"No, I won't stop please! Nobody asked you to ride that I know of.
Get off the same way you got on!"

Packard realized two things very clearly then:

If he jumped with the car going at its present speed he would probably
break his neck; if he gave any considerable time to arguing the matter
with her he would be carried as far in five minutes as he could walk in
an hour.

"I mean business to-night," he told her bluntly. "If you don't slow
down before I count ten I am going to lean out a little--like this--and
shoot a hole in your tire. Then, if you keep on, I'll shoot a hole in
the other tire. Understand?"

Terry laughed mockingly.

"You wouldn't dare!" she told him serenely. "That would be some kind
of a crime; they could put you in jail for it. You'd be scared to."

"One, two, three, four, five," he counted briskly.

"I would seek to interrupt to advise, oh, Miss Lady!" chattered Iki.
"His voice has the sound of bloodthirstiness."

"Six, seven, eight, nine--ten," counted Packard.

Terry sniffed. He leaned out, she saw the glint of the moon upon his
revolver.

She threw out her clutch and jammed down both brakes, hard. Steve
swung out and down to the ground. The car,