It did not come straight. If it had, the problem would not have been so difficult for Nick Carter.
It struck so many bumps and stones on its way that it gave no dependable indication of where it would land when it got to the road.
The only thing that looked likely was that it would run after the car wherever it might be, and smash it to kindling wood in sheer joy of destruction.
That was Patsy Garvan’s view of it, although he did not put it in quite those words.
“I have a hunch it’s going to get us!” he shouted. “I don’t see how it can miss! Gee! Look at that bunch on top of the hill, laughing! A lot of chumps! I suppose they think it’s a joke!”
“Speed on, Nick!” begged Chick, as the great stone flew into the air, only about fifty yards up the mountain. “She’s almost on top of us!”
Nick Carter needed no advice just now. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen the bowlder hit another one embedded in the earth, and leap away as if it had struck a hidden mine.
Then it swerved in the direction the car was running, and there seemed no possibility of avoiding it.
With a last effort, Nick Carter tried to squeeze a little more speed out of the motor. He had the throttle wide open as it was, however. He could do no more.
It was here that the little, common, everyday, bull luck came on his side.