The Mad King [85]
pretended to be fussing with some refractory piece of controlling mechanism beneath the cowl--appar- ently he did not see the officer. He was just opposite him when the latter shouted to him. Barney straightened up quickly and saluted, but did not stop.
"Halt!" cried the officer.
Barney pointed down the road in the direction in which he was headed.
"Halt!" repeated the officer, running to the car.
Barney glanced ahead. Two hundred yards farther on was another post--beyond that he saw no soldiers. He turned and shouted a volley of intentionally unintelligible jargon at the officer, continuing to point ahead of him.
He hoped to confuse the man for the few seconds neces- sary for him to reach the last post. If the soldiers there saw that he had been permitted to pass through the first they doubtless would not hinder his further passage. That they were watching him Barney could see.
He had passed the officer now. There was no necessity for dalliance. He pressed the accelerator down a trifle. The car moved forward at increased speed. a final angry shout broke from the officer behind him, followed by a quick command. Barney did not have to wait long to learn the tenor of the order, for almost immediately a shot sounded from behind and a bullet whirred above his head. Another shot and another followed.
Barney was pressing the accelerator downward to the limit. The car responded nobly--there was no sputtering, no choking. Just a rapid rush of increasing momentum as the machine gained headway by leaps and bounds.
The bullets were ripping the air all about him. Just ahead the second outpost stood directly in the center of the road. There were three soldiers and they were taking deliberate aim, as carefully as though upon the rifle range. It seemed to Barney that they couldn't miss him. He swerved the car suddenly from one side of the road to the other. At the rate that it was going the move was fraught with but little less danger than the supine facing of the leveled guns ahead.
The three rifles spoke almost simultaneously. The glass of the windshield shattered in Barney's face. There was a hole in the left-hand front fender that had not been there before.
"Rotten shooting," commented Barney Custer, of Beatrice.
The soldiers still stood in the center of the road firing at the swaying car as, lurching from side to side, it bore down upon them. Barney sounded the raucous military horn; but the soldiers seemed unconscious of their danger--they still stood there pumping lead toward the onrushing Juggernaut. At the last instant they attempted to rush from its path; but they were too late.
At over sixty miles an hour the huge, gray monster bore down upon them. One of them fell beneath the wheels--the two others were thrown high in air as the bumper struck them. The body of the man who had fallen beneath the wheels threw the car half way across the road--only iron nerve and strong arms held it from the ditch upon the op- posite side.
Barney Custer had never been nearer death than at that moment--not even when he faced the firing squad before the factory wall in Burgova. He had done that without a tremor--he had heard the bullets of the outpost whistling about his head a moment before, with a smile upon his lips-- he had faced the leveled rifles of the three he had ridden down and he had not quailed. But now, his machine in the center of the road again, he shook like a leaf, still in the grip of the sickening nausea of that awful moment when the mighty, insensate monster beneath him had reeled drunkenly in its mad flight, swerving toward the ditch and destruction.
For a few minutes he held to his rapid pace before he looked around, and then it was to see two cars climbing into the road from the encampment in the field and heading to- ward him in pursuit. Barney grinned. Once more he was master of his nerves. They'd have a merry chase, he thought, and again he accelerated the speed of the car. Once before he had had it up to seventy-five miles, and for a moment, when he
"Halt!" cried the officer.
Barney pointed down the road in the direction in which he was headed.
"Halt!" repeated the officer, running to the car.
Barney glanced ahead. Two hundred yards farther on was another post--beyond that he saw no soldiers. He turned and shouted a volley of intentionally unintelligible jargon at the officer, continuing to point ahead of him.
He hoped to confuse the man for the few seconds neces- sary for him to reach the last post. If the soldiers there saw that he had been permitted to pass through the first they doubtless would not hinder his further passage. That they were watching him Barney could see.
He had passed the officer now. There was no necessity for dalliance. He pressed the accelerator down a trifle. The car moved forward at increased speed. a final angry shout broke from the officer behind him, followed by a quick command. Barney did not have to wait long to learn the tenor of the order, for almost immediately a shot sounded from behind and a bullet whirred above his head. Another shot and another followed.
Barney was pressing the accelerator downward to the limit. The car responded nobly--there was no sputtering, no choking. Just a rapid rush of increasing momentum as the machine gained headway by leaps and bounds.
The bullets were ripping the air all about him. Just ahead the second outpost stood directly in the center of the road. There were three soldiers and they were taking deliberate aim, as carefully as though upon the rifle range. It seemed to Barney that they couldn't miss him. He swerved the car suddenly from one side of the road to the other. At the rate that it was going the move was fraught with but little less danger than the supine facing of the leveled guns ahead.
The three rifles spoke almost simultaneously. The glass of the windshield shattered in Barney's face. There was a hole in the left-hand front fender that had not been there before.
"Rotten shooting," commented Barney Custer, of Beatrice.
The soldiers still stood in the center of the road firing at the swaying car as, lurching from side to side, it bore down upon them. Barney sounded the raucous military horn; but the soldiers seemed unconscious of their danger--they still stood there pumping lead toward the onrushing Juggernaut. At the last instant they attempted to rush from its path; but they were too late.
At over sixty miles an hour the huge, gray monster bore down upon them. One of them fell beneath the wheels--the two others were thrown high in air as the bumper struck them. The body of the man who had fallen beneath the wheels threw the car half way across the road--only iron nerve and strong arms held it from the ditch upon the op- posite side.
Barney Custer had never been nearer death than at that moment--not even when he faced the firing squad before the factory wall in Burgova. He had done that without a tremor--he had heard the bullets of the outpost whistling about his head a moment before, with a smile upon his lips-- he had faced the leveled rifles of the three he had ridden down and he had not quailed. But now, his machine in the center of the road again, he shook like a leaf, still in the grip of the sickening nausea of that awful moment when the mighty, insensate monster beneath him had reeled drunkenly in its mad flight, swerving toward the ditch and destruction.
For a few minutes he held to his rapid pace before he looked around, and then it was to see two cars climbing into the road from the encampment in the field and heading to- ward him in pursuit. Barney grinned. Once more he was master of his nerves. They'd have a merry chase, he thought, and again he accelerated the speed of the car. Once before he had had it up to seventy-five miles, and for a moment, when he