“Unless she hits the stonework of the bridge approach. Then——”
“Shut up!” snapped Stanley. “We can’t let her do it! We have five miles. In that distance, we ought to be able to help.”
Karl did not reply. He knew how quickly five miles can be covered in an automobile.
Stanley drove faster and faster. The girl had nearly got to the next bend, which was one of the awful “S” turns. He saw that she was bending low over her wheel, prepared to serpentine her way around at full speed, if it could be done.
“The Lord send that she doesn’t meet anything!” murmured Stanley, as he put on more power. “What are we doing, Karl?”
“Fifty,” replied Karl, glancing at the speedometer.
“Fifty miles an hour! Well, we’ll have to go up to sixty—perhaps more.”
Stanley Downs gritted his teeth, forced his car up to sixty miles an hour, and then reduced the speed to thirty. They were approaching the “S.”
The girl was just running out of it, her car rocking awfully as she reached the straight.
“Well, she’s out of that,” remarked Stanley. “I was afraid she’d never do it. By Jove, she’s some driver!”