Then, a hundred feet ahead, his lights fell upon the dauntless, abandoned flivver
"Halt!" shouted Anderson Crow from the top of the roadside bank. "Surrender in the name of the Law!"
He spoke just in time.
Crash! They halted!
Deacon Rank's little car died a glorious, spectacular death. (Harry Squires, in his account, placed it all alone in the list of "unidentified dead.")
Three minutes after the collision, brawny soldiers were bending over the stretched-out figures of five unconscious men.
Mr. and Mrs. Crow stood on the edge of the group, awe-struck and silent.
"They're coming around, all right," said some one at Anderson's elbow. "He was slowing down when they struck. But there's no hope for the poor old flivver."