"Talk about going!" commented the physician; "just look at that fellow. If he can use up that much gasoline and escape the law, no need for us to worry." The chauffeur was simply intent upon speed--he seemed to have gone speed crazy, Cora thought. They were traveling over a perfectly straight road, and Duncan Bennet took out his field glasses. "Here," he said to Cora, "I often find these interesting when on a long journey. Take a peek." Cora adjusted the glasses and peered ahead. "That man," she said, "has stopped at a small shed--" "That's the constable's hang-out," remarked Duncan. "I had to stop there once--just once," and the thought was evidently funny, for he laughed boyishly. "Yes," went on Cora, "there is some one talking to him. Oh, Duncan," and she clutched his arm nervously, "do tell Tom to drive slowly past there, for I think I know that man." "Go slow, Tom," called Duncan carelessly. "We might be held up. Just let me take the glasses, Cora." He peered through the strong lenses. "The other car has gone on," he said. "Perhaps the cop is a friend of your friend's"; and again he laughed, much to Cora's discomfort. On and on the machine flew. Finally they were within a few rods of the little shed by the roadside. A man on a motor-cycle was waiting. As the Bennet car came up he shot out into the center of the road. Duncan did not mistake his intention. Tom turned his head and gave the other a meaning look. Then the chauffeur slowed down--slower and slower. "Stop!" called the man on the motor-cycle, at the same moment dismounting from his wheel. Tom almost stopped. Cora thought he had turned off the gasoline, but the next moment he had shot past the surprised officer, and was going at a madder pace than ever. Cora was frightened. Some motor-cycles can beat ordinary automobiles; she knew that. But Duncan was laughing. If only that man, Reed, was not on the same road just then. "Can you make it?" asked Duncan, calling into the chauffeur's ear. "Don't know," replied the man. "But we may as well get as far out of the woods as possible." "Don't worry, little girl," said Duncan to Cora with that self-confidence peculiar to those who are accustomed to being obeyed. "We are all right. It is only a fine, at any rate, and I always carry small change." "Stop!" yelled the man at the rear. "You cannot cross the line, and if you don't stop soon you will find your tires winded." A revolver shot sounded. Tom drew up instantly. "I don't fancy putting on new tires," he said coolly, "so we may as well surrender." Duncan looked at the officer in a perfectly friendly way. "Well, what's up?" he asked indifferently. "You ought to know," replied the man, scowling angrily. "If I hadn't stopped you land knows but you would have been over the falls. What's the matter with you fellows, anyhow? Can't you take a joy ride without committing murder and suicide?"