The Maillard was less than a quarter of a mile away when Miss Vale caught the rapid series of explosions once more.  With a quick glance ahead, she threw the lever forward and the car tore along at a breathless rate.  Fences ran by in a giddy staggering line; trees seemed merged into one tangle of branches; the dust arose in solid towers behind her.  However, she held to this but a scant five minutes; her breath was short when she decreased the power; the hands upon the wheel shook a little, but her head was held erect, her face was still purposefully set forward.

Above the decreasing hum of her car, came the swift, brave shocks of the motor cycle.  But, if there was a dread that fell to tightening at her heart, she showed it little.  The Maillard still bore swiftly on; she did not once turn her head.

A little further on there came into view a post with a series of white, pointing sign-boards, that indicated a cross-roads.  When still a hundred yards from this the car stopped once more; again the Italian flew by; again he vanished, this time around a bend beyond the cross-roads.  But once hidden by the bend, he stopped and got down; the smile again appeared upon his face, the brilliant teeth shone good-naturedly.

“A simple little ruse,” he said to himself.  “And one that I’ve seen used with effect more than once.  Evidently Miss Vale has her wits about her.”

Leaning against his machine he waited and listened.  From around the bend came the low sound of the Maillard; nearer and nearer it came for a time; then it began to recede.  At this the Italian remounted; the explosions of his motor were muffled as he went swiftly along upon the way by which he had come.  At the cross-roads he slowed up and examined the ground.  Deep in the dust was the broad impress of the tires, showing the car to have taken the turn to the left.  Then swiftly the cycle turned into the same road and took up the trail once more.

Some three miles further on, the track veered back toward the highway along a badly cut dirt road.

“Slow going for a heavy car,” said the pursuer calmly.  “It will not be long before I sight it again.”

There was a hard, beaten footpath at one side of the road; taking to this, the man on the motor cycle found it easy traveling enough.  Shortly after, he caught the laborings of the Maillard as it made its way through the binding ruts; then he slowed down and ran easily along the path, content, apparently, to keep in sound of the chase.

But upon finally reaching the highway, he increased his speed until he sighted the dust of the car; this he hung to like a beagle, but never once allowed the car itself to come into view.

At last the sounds of the Maillard ceased and the pall of dust thinned and dissolved itself in the air.  The motor cycle ran swiftly on until the car, now at a standstill, became visible; then the Italian got down, took out a pair of field-glasses and swept the highway before him.