"I don't think he'll---" She stopped.
"What?"
"Care very much," she concluded. He laughed doubtingly.
Mile after mile the car traversed the misty night, jolting over the
ruts in the lane, taking the hills blindly--driven entirely by the
hand of Good Luck.
Suddenly the "honk, honk!" of an invisible motor struck upon their
tense ears, the sound coming from some point ahead in the black,
narrow lane. Dauntless sat straight and peered ahead, sounding his
horn sharply.
"I hope no one is coming toward us," he groaned, slowing up sharply.
"We never can pass in this confounded lane. If we get off into the
soft ground--Hello! Here he comes--and no lights either! Hey! Look
out!" He brought his car to an abrupt standstill.
"Where are we, Joe?" she cried.
"Near the crossroads, I'm sure. Curse an idiot that runs around
without lights on a night like this," he growled, forgetting that his
own lamps were dark.
Out of the misty blackness loomed another car, directly ahead. It had
come to a sudden stop not ten feet away. Both cars were tooting their
horns viciously.
"Where are your lights?" roared Dauntless.
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