The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 81: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GETTING AWAY FROM THOMPSON. Mr. Farnham and the sun was shining upon the constable’s front elevation, precluding warning shadows. Thornton Hill reached for the reins. Mr. Farnham, whisking about with the sound- less speed of a lightning flash, reached for Thornton Hill. Both powerful hands had settled upon the constable’s anatomy even before Jane realized that their owner was no longer beside the car, and one of them gathered the constable’s collar while the other snatched out his pistol and sent it hurtling down the road! A hoarse and horrid shout emerged from the throat of Thornton Hill and he sought to whirl about and come to grips with Wilbur Farnham. It was quite useless. Mr. Farnham, just then, held a monopoly on local grips, for he had anchored another on the small of Thornton Hill’s back and lifted that person bodily from the earth. And now, with a bound, he had crossed the road and lifted Thornton Hill high in air! And now he was swinging Thornton Hill and now he had hurled him straight across the stone wall and—even before the thud Mr. Farnham was in the car and back- ing about, while Jane caught at the sides and the kindly lady on the porch screamed piercingly and incessantly! Straight up hill, and away from Bates- ford, roared the big six! CHAPTER XVI. OUTLAWED! UNDER pressure, one does many queer things. Ordinarily, in the fulness of his new knowledge of motoring, Mr. Farnham would have attacked this hill cautiously, dropping into second speed and climbing comfort- ably; just now, having started on his high gear, he opened everything in sight and climbed on just the same, splitting the country silence with the thunder of his open cutout, sending pounds of fine dirt into the air! Faithful as ever, the car responded nobly, but toward the top of the ridge it labored hard and as the speed lessened Mr. Farn- ham turned for one backward glance. “VYou—you killed him!” Jane gasped. “Did I? Look!” her motoring party cried jubilantly. Gloriously distant at the bottom of the 263 steep meadow, Thornton Hill had rolled his fill. Now he was scrambling frantically and pawing earth; and now he had attained his foothold and stood erect, mouth open and shouting, arms waving expressively, alive to a fault! And the active, elderly lady who had so endeared herself was in the roadway, too, moving directly toward the constable’s pistol and likely to clutch it in another ten seconds. Mr. Farnham pressed his invaluable ac- celerator pedal and the car whizzed from their angered sight. But it was by no means the same in- nocent automobile that had gone downhill an hour ago. Then it had been troubled only by strained conventions, memories of minor past misfortunes and the possibility of a little trouble ahead with one Thomp- son. Now, very differently, the car was be- yond the law, as were its occupants also— . and the certainty of this knowledge did nothing to bring bright smiles to Jane Fayre’s lips or merry jests to those of Wil- bur Farnham. It was cheering, of course, ta know that he had fallen short of actual murder, but the certainty was not suffi- ciently stimulating to balance all the rest. Driver and owner, each felt keenly that Mr. Farnham’s optimism of the early day had been mistaken. Events were combining to prove this conclusively; even the sky above was doing its little share now. Another quarter-hour and the sun would vanish, for black clouds were piling swiftly to the north of them, and unless the wind changed or the whim of the weather, they were due shortly for a real mountain thun- derstorm. Silently, then, they sped on, back toward the dreary woodland, back even toward the friendly clearing; but Mr. Farnham, evi- dently, had no mind to return to the latter spot. At the crossroads he slowed down a little, studied the jumbled and many-armed sign-post, nodded grimly and _ wheeled sharply to the north. Jane, too staggered by the immediate past to give great thought to the immediate future, drew her coat tightly about the slender throat and did not even ask his idea in seeking strange country. Uphill they went again and downhill, with the speed gage dropping rarely below the 40 that had lately come to be its favor- ite minimum. Past a tiny, forsaken farm COMMICLO® S (C@