Betty, more surprised at first than alarmed, put on her brakes and came to
a standstill, at the same time putting out a hand to warn the car behind
them.

"Oh, Betty, we are being held up!" moaned Grace, who evidently was
frightened enough for both of them. "For goodness' sake, hold up your
hands. He may shoot."

Still feeling rather dazed with the suddenness of the thing, Betty raised
both hands above her head, at the same time feeling a rather hysterical
desire to laugh. It was so absurd, being held up by a masked stranger in
broad daylight.

Nevertheless, she gave a little gasp of fright as the man waved his big
revolver menacingly and came close to the car. She wished frantically that
he would not point that firearm at her. Suppose it should go off!

"Come on, hand over what you got," the robber demanded in a gruff
threatening voice. "The quicker you move, the better it will be for you."

"Wh--what do you want?" asked Betty, in a weak little voice that did not
sound like her own at all. She had thought of her pocketbook beside her in
the pocket of the car. The purse contained a whole month's allowance. She
was sparring desperately for time--help in some form or other might come
at any moment. But the ruffian in the road was evidently in no frame of
mind to be fooled with.

He waved his revolver once more, eliciting a terrified gurgle from Grace
and commanded roughly that they get out of the car.