"Order your own," responded Masters, careless of the consequences. "We've as much right to go fast as you have. Fall behind. You're the slower car."
Rawlings shook a big fist at them. Susanne acknowledged the threat by once more ironically lifting his hat. Masters grimaced at his seniors. And Higgins stirred his car to even greater efforts. They shot ahead, leaving the occupants of the rival car fuming with rage. All heads were turned to watch them. Faces were reddened with excitement, and eyes shone at the thought of such a brilliant victory. A hoarse cheer was even uttered by Clive and his friends, a reckless cheer, just to let Rawlings know what they thought of him and how little they feared. And then all gave vent to a howl of dismay. For, of a sudden, something went wrong with the following car. It swerved to one side, recovered a straight line, and then turned into the pathway. A moment later the rear end had risen into the air, and as Clive and the others watched, first Rawlings, then Trendall were tossed out into a dense mass of bushes lining the path. The driver followed them, smashing his way through the glass wind screen. They heard his body thud to the ground, while the up-turned car fell on him. Their shouts and shrieks caused Higgins to cram his brakes on and bring their own vehicle to a standstill. A minute later they were gathered about the up-turned car.
"FIRST RAWLINGS THEN TRENDALL WERE TOSSED OUT INTO A DENSE MASS OF BUSHES."
"Quick! Pull it off him," commanded Susanne, seemingly as cool as a cucumber. "Now, all together. Ah! He's killed."
"Killed?" It was Rawlings who asked the question, his lips bloodless, his knees almost knocking. "Killed? Then—then what happens? Do we have to appear?"
It was like him to think first of himself, and not of the unfortunate man. But the question he had asked was one which was bound to be asked. It was one which intimately concerned one and all of the boys of Ranleigh who had broken bounds. They turned from the body of the man to one another.