Two men were seated in
it. Bob and Hugh obtained a fleeting glimpse of them as they flashed by.
The tail light of the car they intended to follow showed a dim, red spot
far down the street.
"Speed her up a little, Bob," urged Hugh. "We don't want to lose them."
"We can't keep too close to them either," said Bob. "Besides, my thumb
and forefinger are pretty sore from that fuse burn and it's hard to grip
the wheel."
"Mine are sore too," said Hugh. "Put on gloves."
"I haven't any with me."
"I have; take mine."
Still watching the small red dot ahead of them Bob managed to slip on
Hugh's right-hand glove. It was a great help to him in driving.
"They've turned a corner," exclaimed Hugh suddenly. "Faster, Bob!"
Bob pressed his foot on the accelerator and the car leaped forward as if
it were a living thing. A moment later they reached the cross street and
turned into it, peering anxiously ahead. The car they were following was
still in sight.
"Keep about two hundred yards in back of them," Hugh advised.
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