“Turn around, boy, and get after them!” cried Polk. “We’ll rescue him!”
It was not yet one o’clock. The leading machine had raced to Upton Falls and back again. Without much doubt, it was now headed across the county, aiming for the same section in which it had escaped pursuit on Saturday night.
But as Dan Speedwell felt the car he drove throb and shake under his manipulation, and realized that it responded to his will and touch, he could not but believe that his was the better one.
On and on the cars tore along the road. The red spark of light ahead seemed to draw nearer. Dan knew that he was gaining upon the other machine.
Suddenly the spark of light ahead vanished. Dan did not reduce his speed, but he wondered for a moment if the rascals, becoming wary of pursuit, had put out all their lights again.
They could observe the lamps on Mr. Briggs’ car and Dan dared not run dark in this narrow road. One collision they had escaped by a hand’s breadth; he was not likely to risk another right away.
But before he could comment upon the disappearance of the rear light of the fugitive automobile, Polk cried from the tonneau:
“There she goes around the corner. They’ve struck the Port Luther turnpike.”
“And turned toward the coast?” demanded Mr. Armitage.
“Don’t know. Too far away for us to be sure whether she turned right or left,” said the deputy.