How they were to go, Harry showed. He snatched up the nearest bicycle and swung himself upon it, whereupon Phil did the same with another of the handy vehicles. Then, with Harry setting the pace, they were off upon the maddest flight that the imagination could have wanted.
The path down from the Knoll was as twisty as it was steep. All you had to do with a bike was let it ride and keep steering while you gave the brakes. In this case the braking wasn’t advisable until the danger zone had been passed and there was no telling how soon that would be.
Up from the darkness the curving path flowed like a tangled ribbon unraveling itself beneath the wheels of Harry’s borrowed bicycle. It did the same with Phil’s, for he was keeping close behind this guide who apparently knew the route.
Things happened all the way down. As they whipped beneath some thick trees, knives came from the dark and planked hard into tree trunks. As they skewered around a huge rock, writhing, spotted figures flung themselves down at the intrepid riders and missed.
Greased lightning would have described those whizzing bicycles except at the places where the wheels screeched under the hard-jammed brakes, but even then, the speed was lessened just enough to make the turns.
Guns were barking from far above and now they seemed strangely remote to Phil. This trip had been so fast, so furious, that he hadn’t found a chance to breathe the air that came whining past. And now, with the menace of the leopard men banished, a new disaster threatened.
The path ended at a huge rock, down deep in the dell. Rather, it ran into a cross path, but the rock blocked the way. Harry took a swerve that a trick bicycle rider would have envied and went to the left of the rock. He missed the path of course, but jounced the bike across the ground beyond.
Phil thought that Harry had taken the hard way. The turn to the right looked easier. Phil chose it and scaled out through space. His bicycle left him and he landed with a smacking splash in a broad pond that he hadn’t even guessed was there.
Far around the other side of the pond, Harry Vincent halted his ride and turned to look for his companion. He saw men hauling Phil from the water and the glare of flashlights showed who they were. Not leopard men, but a squad in blue uniforms, representing the police.
Perhaps Phil could explain his wild nocturnal ride, but in a sense it didn’t matter. Harry’s job was done.