The road was heavy and deeply rutted from the recent passage of cumbrous transport wagons and artillery. Kenneth found the acceleration of the car slow, and in any case the weight of the armour with which its vital parts were protected would have rendered it incapable of high speed. For a time the horsemen appeared to gain on it, and Pariset, who had taken charge of the machine gun, swung it round to cover the rear, ready to open fire if they drew too near.
"Don't fire if you can help it," Granger said. "It would be a pity to disturb the camp ahead."
After a few minutes the car began to draw away. Pariset saw one of the troopers rein up, and expected him to fire over the holster of his saddle. But the man dismounted, and just as the car swung out of sight at a bend of the road, he was clambering up a telegraph pole. Pariset hurriedly informed his friends.
"We must stop and cut the wires," said Kenneth, jamming on the brakes.
Lifting the lid of the tool box, he seized a pair of nippers.
"Evidently meant for the job," he said.
"Give them to me," cried Granger. "You stick to the car."
He sprang out, and swarmed up the nearest pole with an agility surprising in a man of his venerable aspect. Before he was half way up, however, the head of the column rounded the corner.
"There's no help for it," said Pariset. "Here goes!"
Next moment there was a sharp metallic crack. The car trembled.