But you must do it now, at once, or--marry me." She gave me a queer, side glance, but she did not insist.

Naturally I didn't stop, either.
We shot out into the open, with the windings of the pass behind, and then I turned the old car loose, and maybe we didn't go! She wasn't a bad sort--but I would have given a good deal, just then, if she had been the _Yellow Peril_ stripped for a race.

I could hear the others coming up, and we were doing all we could; I saw to that.
"I think they'll catch us," Beryl observed maliciously.

"Their car is a sixty h.p.Mercedes, and this--" "Is about a forty," I cut in tartly, not liking the tone of her; "and just plain American make.

But don't you fret, my money's on Uncle Sam." She said no more; indeed, it wasn't easy to talk, with the wind drawing the breath right out of your lungs.