They had come to the turn.  So great was their speed that they seemed to reach it before they were well out from the shadow of the culvert, yet they had traveled two hundred yards or more.  There was nothing really to frighten Fred as he cried out unless it was the sudden imminence of the turn, which had seemed much further away when they had first seen it.  It was less what he saw than some indefinable thing he felt.

Whether Boris’s hand was wavering or whether some hitherto unsuspected weakness had developed in the machine, Fred could not tell.  But he seemed to sense somehow that all was not well.  There was some break in the rhythm of the car’s movement that warned him.

Now they took the turn.  Took it on two wheels—­on one!  For a moment it seemed that they must upset.  Then, by a miracle, the car righted itself.  For a moment it seemed about to straighten itself out and resume its flight.  And then, together, Fred and Boris saw what lay before them, and Boris tried frantically to swing the car out.  In the road lay the wreck of a huge van.

It was too much for Boris.  He did swerve the car, but it struck the wreck.  There was a deafening crash, and then they were hurled out onto the turf by the roadside, while the motor roared and flames leaped out over the wreck.

CHAPTER XVI

BETWEEN THE GRINDSTONES

For a moment Fred was stunned by the force of his fall.  But it was only for a moment, since, by something that was very like a miracle, he was unhurt.  He got up and looked around, a little dazed, for Boris.  In a moment he saw him lying very still, his white face lighted up by the flames from the burning car.  He ran over and he was vastly relieved to see that his cousin was conscious.

“My leg is broken, I think,” said Boris, speaking quickly.  “Fred, you must run for it alone.  You will be able to get to the Russian lines.  But hurry!  They are coming, I’m sure!  They must have heard the crash!”

“Do you think I’m going to leave you here?” asked Fred, indignantly.  “We’ll sink or swim together, Boris!”

“Why should two of us suffer when one can escape?” asked Boris.  “Besides, you’ve got to go, Fred, for my sake as well as for your own.  They’ll treat me well enough.  But if they catch us here wearing German uniform coats—­well, you know what that would mean!”

Fred was startled.  He had not thought of that.

“Take my coat and helmet and get away as fast as you can,” urged Boris.  “Then I can say that I have been in the car.  They’d know that, of course, but I could make them believe that I was in it against my will, and that the two men in uniform they saw had escaped.  If they catch you, they’ll send you back to headquarters and you’ll be recognized there at once.  Then they’d do to me whatever they did to you, just because I was caught in your company.  No, it’s the only chance for either of us, Fred, and you’ve got to take it quickly.”