"She can do sixty," cried Tomlinson, from behind. "You know her, Gregory! Perhaps you'd better take the wheel."
Gregory had been watching Motor Matt sharply.
"King can forget more about driving a car than I ever knew, Mr. Tomlinson," said he. "Leave the thing as it is. If any one can get us out of this, it's King."
The Red Flier was going like the wind.
"Watch behind, Carl!" shouted Matt.
"Sure," answered Carl, "you bed you. Py shinks! Der odder car is slowing down aboudt vere ve vas. Ah, ha! Dere comes Spangler, oudt oof der blace vere you come, und he chumps by der car. Now dey're rushing ad us again! Himmel, how dey vas purnin' der vind! No use, Matt. Der Red Flier ain'd in it mit dot odder car."
"How's she going, Gregory?" cried Tomlinson.
Gregory bent forward over the speedometer.
"Fifty-eight," he answered.