He won to his feet--dark, rushing forms were almost at the wall.
He fired--once--twice--fired again--and turned, staggering for the car.
"Jimmie! Jimmie--QUICK!" Panting, gasping, he half fell into the tonneau.

The car leaped forward, yells filled the air--but only one thing was dominant in Jimmie Dale's reeling brain now.

He pulled himself up to his feet, and leaned over the back of the seat, reaching for the slim figure that was bent over the wheel.
"It's you--you at last!" he cried.

"Your face--let me lee your face!" A bullet split the back panel of the car--little spurting flames were dancing out from the roadway behind.
"Are you mad!" she shouted back at him.

"Let me steer--do you want them to hit me!" "No-o," said Jimmie Dale, in a queer singsong sort of way, and his head seemed to spin dizzily around.