The second figure in the rear seat was built along different lines.  He was short and chunky; also, he was stout.  Had he been standing it would have been evident that he was almost as wide as he was long.  He had a pleasant face and smiled occasionally, though upon each occasion this smile died away in a sickly grin as the car leaped high in the air after striking a particularly large obstruction in the road, or veering crazily to one side as it turned sharply.  In each case the grin was succeeded by a gasp for breath.

The figure was that of Mr. Anthony Stubbs, war correspondent of the New York Gazette, on the firing line in Europe to gather facts for his newspaper.  He was attired in a riding suit of khaki.

Said Mr. Stubbs: 

“Well, we may get there and we may not.”

“Oh, we’ll get there all right, Mr. Stubbs!” Chester raised his voice to make himself heard.

“We’re likely to land out here in the ditch,” was Stubbs’ reply.  “The way Hal runs this car, there is no telling what may happen.”

“Not frightened, are you, Mr. Stubbs?” asked Chester, grinning.

“Frightened?” echoed Stubbs.  “Why should I be frightened?  We can’t be going more than a couple of hundred miles an hour.  No, I’m not frightened.  I’m what you call scared.  Wow!”

This last ejaculation was drawn from the little man as he was pitched over into Chester’s lap by an extra violent lurch of the car.  He threw out a hand, seeking a hold, and his open palm came in contact with Chester’s face.  Chester thrust Stubbs away from him.

“I say, Stubbs!” said the lad half angrily.  “If you want to jump out of here, all right; but don’t try and push me out ahead of you.  Keep your hands out of my face.”

“I wasn’t trying to push you out,” gasped Stubbs.  “I was hunting something to hang on to.”

“Well, my face is no strap,” declared Chester.

The automobile slowed down suddenly and a moment later came to a stop at a fork in the road.

“I’ll have to have a look at this chart,” Hal called over his shoulder to his companions, as he thrust a hand into a pocket.  “Forget which way we head from here.”

“We’re headed for the happy hunting grounds no matter which road we take,” mumbled Stubbs.

“Don’t croak, Mr. Stubbs,” said Hal.  “Barring accidents, we’ll reach General Petain at Verdun in time to deliver these despatches before it’s too late.”

“What I don’t understand,” said Chester, “is why it is necessary to deliver these despatches by courier.  What’s the matter with the wire?”

“I don’t know,” said Hal, as he returned the chart to his pocket after a quick scrutiny, “unless there is a leak of some kind.”

“Hardly,” said Chester.

Hal shrugged his shoulders as he settled his cap more firmly on his head and laid a hand on the wheel.

“You never can tell,” he said.