"Crank for your life," he ordered Remedios. "Jack, keep him covered."
As the Mexican sprang to the crank, and started turning, Frank leaped to the driver's seat of the flivver and manipulated throttle and spark. With a clatter the engine turned over and began to race.
Closer came the bandits, their car slowing down as it approached.
Jack leaned far over the windshield, his weapon leveled at Remedios.
"Up on the hood," he shrieked. "Up with you, or I'll shoot you full of holes."
Remedios threw himself sprawlingly over the hood.
The bandits' car had slowed almost to a stop, four or five lengths away. Frank released the hand brake, pressed the clutch into low with his foot, and shot ahead.
Shifting the clutch into high, Frank opened the throttle wide and the old rattletrap seemed fairly to leap ahead, its wheels spurning the ground. The lights of the other car which had theretofore seemed dimmed were switched to full brightness. Before the blinding glare in his eyes, Frank involuntarily ducked his head.
As his eyes left the road, the car swerved. A shot rang out from the car of the bandits, ripping high and doing no damage.
"Look out, Frank. Swing her over," cried Jack in alarm.