The car swayed from side to side, and the boys, except Bob, who had a firm grip of the wheel, were bounced up into the air, again and again. Bob had on big goggles, and, with head bent low, was watching the road like a hawk ready to pounce on a chicken.
“We’re gaining on him!” he muttered, and he tooted the horn. Back a faint, answering blast came.
Indeed, it was evident that the red auto, though a smaller and less powerful machine, was creeping up on its rival. The lone chauffeur glanced back, saw the pursuing car, and turned on full power.
For a few moments he increased his lead. But Bob advanced his spark further, and turned on a trifle more of gasolene. The red auto once more leaped forward.
“We’ve got him!” cried Bob. “He can’t get another inch out of his, and I haven’t used the accelerator pedal yet. We’ll beat him!”
“If we don’t all break our necks!” exclaimed Jerry, holding to his seat.
“Terrible fast—takes your breath—shakes the liver-pin out of you—loosens all your teeth—great sport—smash the machine—never say die—don’t give up the ship—whoop!” yelled Andy, as he slid down to the bottom of the car, unable any longer to remain upright.
Slowly the red car crept up on the green one. The dust arose in clouds about both machines. The autos swayed from the terrific speed, but Bob held the wheel firm and was ready to shut off power and apply the emergency brake in a second. The man in front again glanced back, and did not seem to relish being passed by mere boys in a smaller car than his. He was making desperate efforts to draw away.
The distance between the machines lessened. Bob was watching his opportunity.