The start was so sudden and so violent that Dora was thrown forward. Dick drew her back and they smiled at each other glowingly.
“Life is a jolly lark today, isn’t it, so full of a.’s and n. e.’s.”
“I suppose you mean adventures and narrow escapes.” Dora straightened her small hat that had been twisted awry. Then, as they sped away from the shelter of the grim, gray towering mountain, they all four looked quickly to the right and left. The desert lay dreaming in the sun. To the far south of them the air was full of a sinister yellow wall of flying sand and dust. It was surely headed in the opposite direction. Jerry did not doubt it and since he did not, the girls and Dick had no sense of fear. The ominous roaring sound had lessened, although, of course, they could hear little when that small car was speeding, its own squeaks and rattles having been increased.
Mary turned a face flushed with excitement and called back to Dora, “Ten miles! Only ten more to go.”
It was a perfect road, recently completed. There was almost no sand on it and very few dips.
Dick waved up toward a low circling vulture. “That fellow’s eyes are popping out in amazement, more than likely,” he shouted to Dora.
She laughed back, holding tight to her hat. “He probably thinks this is some new kind of a stampede.”
Again Mary’s pretty glowing face appeared in the opening back of the front seat. “Fifteen miles! Only five more to go.”
Dick’s expression became anxious. He said, close to Dora’s ear, “If Jerry feels so sure that the sand storm is headed toward Mexico, I don’t think he ought to race this little machine. He may know a lot more than I do about busting bronchos, but—”
An explosion interrupted Dick’s remark, then the car zigzagged wildly from side to side. Jerry turned off the spark and the gas. Dick, without thought, leaped out onto the running board and put his weight over the wheel with the blow-out in its tire.