Once Hal lost his balance. Throwing out one hand, he grasped the side of
the car, and that alone saved him and his friends, too, for that matter.
The car swerved to one side of the road, and just at that instant a sharp
curve came into view.
With a desperate effort Hal regained his balance, steadied the
machine, and, without even trying to slacken his speed, took the curve
on two wheels.
"Whew!" he muttered to himself. "That was a close shave!"
By this time the body of the chauffeur had been pulled into the back of
the car, and Hal slid into his seat.
"Are you all right?" came Chester's voice from the rear.
"All right now," replied Hal.
"You can slow down a bit," shouted Lieutenant Anderson. "We are out of
range. We are safe enough now."
"We are safe from bullets, but we are not safe from pursuit," Hal called
back. "Do I keep to this road?"
"Yes," came the reply, "if you don't run into a ditch or a
telegraph pole."
"Oh, I'll run it, all right; and I'll run it on the road, too," Hal
answered grimly. "I've made a record on a worse road than this."
"Is the chauffeur badly hurt?" he called back after a few minutes.
"No, I don't think so," replied the French captain's voice. "Just a
scalp wound. He has lost a lot of blood, and is still unconscious, but I
think he will come around all right presently."
Hal settled back in his seat and gave his entire attention to the
road ahead.
The big car flashed through several small towns, and the dim lights in
the homes looked like a string of brilliant spots, so swiftly did they go
by.
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