“How are they doing now?” asked Thad.
“Catching up hand over fist,” replied Giraffe. “It’s going to be an open question whether they reach us before we cross the line, or not.”
“Oh! I think we’ve got a good chance to slip over, unless something happens to our cranky old engine,” Allan asserted, for it was his nature to be sanguine, just as the tall scout could not help looking at the gloomy side of things as a rule.
“Now they’re lashing their mounts like everything,” reported Giraffe; “and seems to me they do get more speed out of the horses.”
Bumpus did not attempt to get up any more, so as to look. He had a firm grip on the side of the quivering car, and was staring ahead. Perhaps he was trying to figure how happy he would be if only they could rush across that border line, and secure the protection of those Dutch soldiers.
They were drawing very close to the haven of refuge, so that it was easy for all of them to see the little squad of guardians stationed there to see that the strictest neutrality was maintained. While the Netherlands might seem to be a small country, still she has an active army of some five hundred thousand soldiers, and history tells how bravely the Dutch have always fought when their country was invaded.
Germany would not want to have such a foe on her flank. Besides, many of those harbors of Holland would be extremely valuable to an Allied navy seeking to strike at the heart of the gun foundry region of the Fatherland.
Giraffe was becoming more excited than ever. He fairly quivered as he reported the lessening of the distance between the fleeing car and the pursuing horsemen.
“Faster! Thad, give her all the juice you can! [Squeeze a little more speed out of the poor old thing], and we’ll do it yet!” was the burden of his appeal.
Of course Thad was trying everything he could to coax the motor to do just a little mite better. Small things count at a time like this, and even the wobbling motion that the car continued to keep up as it ran was counting against them, more or less.