"Settling down nicely to it," reflected Susanne, after a while, for it took a great deal to shake the coolness of the French youth. Indeed, he seemed rather to have enjoyed the recklessness of the driver. "He don't steer into the footpath quite so often, and he isn't going so fast. In another twenty minutes we ought to be back near the common."
"And mighty glad I'll be too," admitted Bert. "Of all the brutes, this Higgins is the biggest. But he does seem to be settling down. No, he doesn't. He's putting on the pace again."
"Racing," ejaculated Masters, as if the admission pained him. "Look, there's a car ahead and Higgins means to pass it."
Perhaps a quarter of a mile ahead they could see the back of another car, one, too, with which the boys of Ranleigh were familiar. For they knew it to be one of the three which plied for hire in the neighbourhood.
"Slow as a beetle. We'll beat 'em easy," declared Hugh, stimulated by the thought of a race.
"Walk past it if Higgins can manage to steer decently," agreed Clive.
"Shove her ahead," cried Susanne, springing to his feet and leaning over the driver. "Keep her straight, Higgins. Now, let her go. We'll beat those other fellows into a cocked hat. Hullo, they're looking back."
There were two passengers in the vehicle in front, and at this moment they looked behind them, and then turned to urge their own driver to greater speed.
"Whew! Did you recognise 'em?" asked Hugh, staring after the other car.
"Who?" demanded Clive.