Then, far in the night, he heard a motor horn screech three times.
"You young devil!" he said, increasing the speed. "I ought to have
remembered that every snake has its mate.... If you offer to touch
me--if you move--if you as much as lift a finger, I'll throw you into
the creek!"
The car was flying now, reeling over the dirt road like a drunken
thing. He hung grimly to the wheel, his strained gaze fixed on the
shaft of light ahead, through which the road streamed like a torrent.
A great wind roared in his ears; his cap was gone. The car hurled
itself forward through an endless tunnel of darkness lined with
silver. Presently he began to slow down; the furious wind died away;
the streaking darkness sped by less swiftly.
"Have you gone mad?" she cried in his ear. "You'll kill us both!"
"Wait," he shouted back; "I'll show you and your friends behind us
what speed really is."
The car was still slowing down as they passed over a wooden bridge
where a narrow road, partly washed out, turned to the left and ran
along a hillside. Into this he steered.
"Who is it chasing us?" he asked curiously, still incredulous that any
embassy whatever was involved in this amazing affair.
"Friends."
"More Turks?"
She did not reply.
He sat still, listening for a few moments, then hastily started his
car down the hill.
"Now," he said, "I'll show you what this car of mine really can do!
Are you afraid?"
She said between her teeth: "I'd be a fool if I were not. All I pray for is that you'll kill
yourself, too."
"We'll chance it together, my murderous little friend."
The wind began to roar again as they rushed downward over a hill that
seemed endless. She clung to her seat and he hung to his wheel like
grim death; and, for one terrible instant, she almost lost
consciousness.
Then the terrific pace slackened; the car, running swiftly, was now
speeding over a macadam road; and Neeland laughed and cried in her
ear: "Better light another of your hell's own cigarettes if you want your
friends to follow us!"
Slowing, he drove with one hand on the wheel.
"Look up there!" he said, pointing high at a dark hillside. "See their
lights? They're on the worst road in the Gayfield hills. We cut off
three miles this way."
Still driving with one hand, he looked at his watch, laughed
contentedly, and turned to her with the sudden and almost friendly
toleration born of success and a danger shared in common.
"That was rather a reckless bit of driving," he admitted. "Were you
frightened?"
"Ask yourself how you'd feel with a fool at the wheel."
"We're all fools at times," he retorted, laughing. "You were when you
shot at me. Suppose I'd been seized with panic. I might have turned
loose on you, too."