"Press on!" commanded Gope. "We're close to Bar-Ponderone; it's no more than five miles----" "What kind of speed have they got?" I called back. "They'll beat us easy," said Cagu cheerfully. "What's the road like ahead?" "A fair road, straight and true, now that we've descended the mountain," answered Gope. We squealed through the turn and hit a straightaway. A curving road branched off ahead. "What's that?" I snapped. "A winding trail," gasped the driver. "It comes on Bar-Ponderone, but by a longer way." I gauged my speed, braked minutely, and cut hard. We howled up the steep slope, into a turn between hills. Gope shouted, "What madness is this? Are you in league with the villains...?" "We haven't got a chance on the straightaway," I called back. "Not in a straight speed contest." I whipped the tiller over, then back the other way, following the tight S-curves. We flashed past magnificent vistas of rugged peaks and rolling plains, but I didn't have time to admire the view. There were squeals from the odalisques in the rear seats, a gabble of excited talk. I caught a glimpse of our pursuers, just heading into the side road behind us. "Any way they can head us off?" I yelled. "Not unless they have confederates stationed ahead," said Gope, "but these pariahs work alone." I worked the brake and speed levers, handled the tiller. We swung right, then left, higher and higher, then down a steep grade and up again. The pirate car rounded a turn, only a few hundred yards behind now. I scanned the road ahead, followed its winding course along the mountainside, through a tunnel, then out again to swing around the shoulder of the next peak. "Pitch something out when we go through the tunnel!" I yelled. "Anything!" "My cloak," cried Gope. "And the gift hamper." One of the flunkies started to moan. The girls caught the fever, joined in with shrill lamentations. "Silence!" roared Gope. "Lend a hand here, or by the sea-devil's beard you'll be jettisoned with the rest!" We roared into the tunnel mouth. There was a blast of air as the rear deck cover opened. Gope and Cagu hefted the heavy gift hamper, tumbled it out, followed it with a cloak, a wine jug, assorted sandals, bracelets, fruit. Then we were back in the sunlight and I was fighting the curve. In the rear-viewer I saw the pirates burst from the tunnel mouth, Gope's black and yellow cloak spread over the canopy, smashed fruit spattered over it, the remains of the hamper dragging under the chassis. The car rocked and a corner of the cloak lifted, clearing the driver's view barely in time. "Tough luck," I said. "We've got a long straight stretch ahead, and I'm fresh out of ideas...."