raced with one another. The one which was passed the most frequently
got the dust and smell; and so the universal rule was that when you
were behind you watched for a clear track, and then put on speed,
and went to the front; but then just when you had struck a
comfortable pace, there was a whirring and a puffing at your left,
and your rival came stealing past you. If you were ugly, you put on
speed yourself, and forced him to fall back, or to run the risk of
trouble with vehicles coming the other way. For Oliver there seemed
to be but one rule,--pass everything.

They came to the great Ocean Driveway. Here were many automobiles,
nearly all going one way, and nearly all racing. There were two
which stuck to Oliver and would not be left behind--one, two, three
--one, two, three--they passed and repassed. Their dust was
blinding, and the continual odour was sickening; and so Oliver set
his lips tight, and the little dial on the indicator began to creep
ahead, and they whirled away down the drive. "Catch us this time!"
he muttered.

A few seconds later Oliver gave a sudden exclamation, as a
policeman, concealed behind a bush at the roadside, sprang out and
hailed them. The policeman had a motor-cycle, and Oliver shouted to
the mechanic, "Pull the cord!" His brother turned, alarmed and
perplexed, and saw the man reach down to the floor of the car. He
saw the policeman leap upon the cycle and start to follow. Then he
lost sight of him in the clouds of dust.

For perhaps five minutes they tore on, tense and silent, at a pace
that Montague had never equalled in an express train. Vehicles
coming the other way would leap into sight, charging straight at