by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER XVI.
One More Race.
A faint toot-toot warned from behind.
"They've got out the other car," said Beryl, a bit tremulously; and added,"it's a much bigger one than this."
I let her out all I dared for the road we were traveling; and then therewe were, at that blessed gate. I hadn't thought of it till we were almostupon it, but it didn't take much thought; there was only one thing to do,and I did it.
I caught Beryl by an arm and pulled her down to the floor of the car, nottaking my eyes from the trail, or speaking. Then I drove the car forwardlike a cannon-ball. We hit that gate like a locomotive, and scarcely feltthe jar. I knew the make of that motor, and what it could do. The air wasraining splinters and bits of lamps, but we went right on as if nothinghad happened, and as fast as the winding trail would allow. I knew thatbeyond the pass the road ran straight and level for many a mile, and thatwe could make good time if we got the chance.
Beryl sat half-turned in the seat, glancing back; but for me, I was busywatching the trail and taking the sharp turns in a way to lift the hair ofone not used to traveling by lightning. I will confess it was ticklishgoing, at that pace, and there were places when I took longer chances thanI had any right to take. But, you see, I had Beryl--and I meant to keepher.
That Weaver fellow must have had a bigger bump of caution than I, or elsehe'd never raced. I could hear them coming, but they didn't seem to begaining; rather, they lost ground, if anything. Presently Beryl spokeagain, still looking back.
"Don't you think, Mr. Carleton, this joke has gone far enough? You havedemonstrated what you _could_ do, if--"
I risked both our lives to glance at her. "This joke," I said, "is goingto Osage. I want to marry you, and you know it. The Lord and this carwilling, I'm going to. Still, if you really have been deceived in myintentions, and insist upon going back, I shall stop, of course, and giveyou back to your father. But you must do it now, at once, or--marry me."
She gave me a queer, side glance, but she did not insist. NaturallyI didn't stop, either.
We shot out into the open, with the windings of the pass behind, and thenI turned the old car loose, and maybe we didn't go! She wasn't a badsort--but I would have given a good deal, just then, if she had been the_Yellow Peril_ stripped for a race. I could hear the others coming up, andwe were doing all we could; I saw to that.
"I think they'll catch us," Beryl observed maliciously. "Their car is asixty h.p. Mercedes, and this--"
"Is about a forty," I cut in tartly, not liking the tone of her; "and justplain American make. But don't you fret, my money's on Uncle Sam."
She said no more; indeed, it wasn't easy to talk, with the wind drawingthe breath right out of your lungs. She hung onto her hat, and to theseat, and she had her hands full, let me tell you.
The purr of their motor grew louder, and I didn't like the sound of it abit. I turned my head enough to see them slithering alongclose--abominably close. I glimpsed old King in the tonneau, and Weaverhumped over the wheel in an unpleasantly businesslike fashion.
I humped over my own wheel and tried to coax her up a bit, as if she hadbeen the _Yellow Peril_ at the wind-up of a close race. For a minuteI felt hopeful. Then I could tell by the sound that Weaver was crowding up.
"They're gaining, Mr. Carleton!" Beryl's voice had a new ring in it, andI caught my breath.
"Can you get here and take the wheel and hold her straight without slowingher?" I asked, looking straight ahead. The trail was level and not a bendin it for half a mile or so, and I thought there was a chance for us."I've a notion that friend Weaver has nerves. I'm going to rattle him, ifI can; but whatever happens, don't loose your grip and spill us out.I won't hurt them."
Her hands came over and touched mine on the wheel. "I've raced a bitmyself," she said simply. "I can drive her straight."
I wriggled out of the way and stood up, glancing down to make sure she wasall right. She certainly didn't look much like the girl who was afraidbecause something "made a funny noise." I suspected that she knew a lotabout motors.
A bullet clipped close. Beryl set her teeth into her lips, but grittilyrefrained from turning to look. I breathed freer.
"Now, don't get scared," I warned, balanced myself as well as I could inthe swaying car, and sent a shot back at them.
Weaver came up to my expectations. He ducked, and the car swerved out ofthe trail and went wavering spitefully across the prairie. Old King sentanother rifle-bullet my way--I must have made a fine mark, standing upthere--and he was a good shot. I was mighty glad he was getting joltedenough to spoil his aim.
Weaver came to himself a bit and grabbed frantically for brake andthrottle and steering-wheel all at once, it looked like. He was rattled,all right; he must have given the wheel a twist the wrong way, for theircar hit a jutting rock and went up in the air like a pitching bronco, andold King sailed in a beautiful curve out of the tonneau.
I was glad Beryl didn't see that. I watched, not breathing, till I sawWeaver scramble into view, and Beryl's dad get slowly to his feet andgrope about for his rifle; so I knew there would be no funeral come of it.I fancy his language was anything but mild, though by that time we weretoo far away to hear anything but the faint churning of their motor astheir wheels pawed futilely in the air.
They were harmless for the present. Their car tilted ungracefully on itsside, and, though I hadn't any quarrel with Weaver, I hoped his bigMercedes was out of business. I put away my gun, sat down, and looked atBeryl.
She was very white around the mouth, and her hat was hanging by one pin,I remember; but her eyes were fixed unswervingly upon the brown trailstretching lazily across the green of the grass-land, and she was drivingthat big car like an old hand.
"Well?" her voice was clear, and anxious, and impatient.
"It's all right," I said. I took the wheel from her, got into her place,and brought the car down to a six-mile gait. "It's all right," I repeatedtriumphantly. "They're out of the race--for awhile, at least, and nothurt, that I could see. Just plain, old-fashioned mad. Don't look likethat, Beryl!" I slowed the car more. "You're glad, aren't you? And you_will_ marry me, dear?"
She leaned back panting a little from the strain of the last half-hour,and did things to her hat. I watched her furtively. Then she let her eyesmeet mine; those dear, wonderful eyes of hers! And her mouth washalf-smiling, and very tender.
"You _silly_!" That's every word she said, on my oath.
But I stopped that car dead still and gathered her into my arms, and--Oh,well, I won't trail off into sentiment, you couldn't appreciate it ifI did.
It's a mercy Weaver's car _was_ done for, or they could have walked rightup and got their hands on us before we'd have known it.
