The Dark Star

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."