“Stop!� shouted Constable Small. “In the name of the law I command you!�
“Hold up!� wheezed Constable Buzzell. “Stop right where ye be!�
“Pinched!� exclaimed the driver, in disgust and consternation.
“Don’t stop! Go on!� rasped the florid-faced man at his side. Then he lifted himself above the glass wind shield, flung up his gloved hands, and roared: “Clear the road, you idiots! Out of the way! Get out!�
Seeing the automobile whizzing straight at him without slackening speed to any perceptible degree, Jeremiah Small cast his dignity to the winds and made a leap for safety. Weeping Buzzell backed off the shoulder of the road, caught his heel, and sat down amid the dusty grass of the shallow ditch. The car swished past, the stout man relaxing on the seat, and tore on its way.
“That’ll cost ye ten dollars more for defyin’ the majesty of the law!� spluttered Small, shutting his eyes to prevent them from being filled with the blinding cloud of dust flung over both officers. “The jedge alwus tucks on an additional ten for that trick. Go it, you gay birds! The faster you drive, the higher you’ll bounce when you hit the bumps. Come on, Silas! Deputy Newberry’ll have that gay pair collared in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.�
If the defiant autoists fancied they were to escape the clutches of the speed regulators in that easy manner, they soon realized their error. Farther on toward the village, running the full width of the road, were a series of artfully arranged ridges and hollows calculated to give a severe shaking up to the passengers of any motor car proceeding at a speed exceeding four or five miles an hour.
When this particular car struck those speed-killers, the two occupants were shot into the air with great violence. Coming down, the car seemed to meet them coming up, and the second and third bounces were worse than the first. Indeed, it was little short of remarkable that the florid-faced passenger succeeded in staying in the car at all. The driver, clinging desperately to the wheel, had a better chance, although he found it extremely difficult. And ahead of them the road undulated for a distance of several rods, like miniature waves of the sea.
“Ugh! Woogh! Woosh!â€� spluttered the older man, clutching wildly at the bucking car. “What—in—Halifax! Shut her—unk!—down, Hitchens! Stop her!â€�
Hitchens struggled to obey, finally succeeding in throwing the clutch and jamming on the brake. The wheels, locked, slid with a grinding sound that meant money in the pocket of some tire manufacturer, the car bobbed and hobbled over the ragged places, and the pursuing cloud of dust swooped down over them. When the dust settled a little and they could catch their breath again, they beheld a formidable, satisfied-looking man calmly mounting the right-hand running board.