"I'm going to!" declared Blake, closing his lips firmly.

Every little bump and stone in the road seemed magnified because
of the speed at which they were moving. But Blake held the long
handles firmly, and, once the curve was passed, he turned the
rubber grip that let a little more gasoline flow into the
carbureter to be vaporized and sprayed into the cylinders, where
the electric spark exploded it with a bang.

"We--are--going--some!" panted Joe.

"Got--to!" assented Blake, grimly.

On swayed the thundering, rattling motor cycle. The carriage top
had either been let down, or some of the supports had broken, and
it had fallen, and the boys could now plainly see the two men on
the seat. They had not jumped, but they had evidently given up
trying to make the horse stop by pulling on the one rein, for the
animal was speeding straight down the center of the road.

"We aren't catching up to him very fast!" howled Joe into Blake's
ear, and he had to howl louder than usual, for they were then
passing along a portion of the road densely shaded by trees. In
fact the branches of the trees met overhead in a thick arch, and
it was like going through a leafy tunnel.

This top bower of twigs and branches threw back the noise of the
explosions of the motor cycle, and made an echo, above which it
was almost impossible to make one's voice heard.