"Certainly. It's going like the wind though."

"Well, it can't lose us," said Bob grimly. He advanced the spark, gave
the motor more gas and they were soon tearing through the night at fifty
miles an hour. Over the crest of a hill in front of them, the gray
roadster was outlined for a moment and then disappeared.

Up the grade of the hill Bob drove the big car. When they arrived at the
top they peered ahead anxiously for any sign of the machine they
followed. Nothing was to be seen of it.

"It's gone," exclaimed Hugh.

"Perhaps not," said Bob. "It can't be very far ahead of us anyway."

They continued down the road at breakneck speed, passing through a clump
of woods that lined both sides. Bob forced the motor to its utmost, but
no sign of the gray roadster could they discover. Finally he brought the
car to a dead stop and turned to Hugh.

"What became of that car?" he demanded. "They weren't far enough ahead of
us to have gotten out of sight so quickly."

"They must have turned off into another road," said Hugh. "I don't see
what else could have happened."

"But there are no roads into which they could have turned."

"Are you sure?"