"What is it?" he demanded, peering out ahead. "Gee!" he cried in alarm, an instant later. "Quick, skirt it!"
But the car jerked to a standstill in a manner that must nearly have ripped the tires off the wheels, and Leyburn found himself with his hands gripping the dashboard below the glass wind-screen, which came into sharp contact with his face.
"Gee! That was a narrow shave," cried the chauffeur, with a gasp of relief.
"What the devil——!" cried Leyburn, struggling back to his seat, while the engine roared free, vibrating the whole car violently, as if in angry protest.
But the driver had jumped to the ground, and stood contemplating a huge tangle of barbed wire spreading right across the trail, less than a dozen yards beyond the front wheels.
Leyburn climbed down and followed him. There were no bluffs, there were no fields with barbed wire fencing anywhere in sight. It was plain enough, even in the darkness, that they were surrounded on either hand by nothing but bare, open prairie. He approached the tangled mass, and his man pointed at it.
"We must clear it," he said. "It's these cursed farmers. They're so darned careless—— Say, if we'd gone headlong into that, it would have torn our running gear right out. Look at that." He stooped and fingered the great strands of wire.
Leyburn bent down. His suspicions were fully aroused.
"Say," he cried. "This didn't get here by——"
"Hands up!"