The air was raining splinters and bits of lamps, but we went right on as if nothing had happened, and as fast as the winding trail would allow.

I knew that beyond the pass the road ran straight and level for many a mile, and that we could make good time if we got the chance.
Beryl sat half-turned in the seat, glancing back; but for me, I was busy watching the trail and taking the sharp turns in a way to lift the hair of one not used to traveling by lightning.

I will confess it was ticklish going, at that pace, and there were places when I took longer chances than I had any right to take.

But, you see, I had Beryl--and I meant to keep her.
That Weaver fellow must have had a bigger bump of caution than I, or else he'd never raced.

I could hear them coming, but they didn't seem to be gaining; rather, they lost ground, if anything.