"Thank the Lord we're riding Empress stock!" ejaculated Bolivar as he and Peggy gave the two beautiful creatures their heads and they settled into the long, low stride which seems never to tire, muscles working swiftly and smoothly as the machinery of a battleship, heads thrust forward, nostrils wide and breathing deep breaths to the rhythmic heart-throbs. But the runaways had a good start.
"If Shelby has ridden easy he's somewheres ahead on that selfsame road."
"Well, by the god Billiken he is! Look yonder."
A more dumbfounded man than Shelby it would have been hard to overtake.
"Certain. It was hiking along ahead. Passed him just a little time before, the horse a-lather. Wondered who the fools were."
"Well, you know now. How far ahead do you reckon they are?"
"Quarter mile beyond that turn if the horse ain't fell dead. Let me break away, overhaul them and then you two come in at the death," he laughed.
Shelby was riding Shashai, and at his word a black streak passed out of sight around the bend of the boulevard. Star and Columbine chafed to follow, but their riders held them back for a time.
True enough, as Shelby had said, the cab was still pounding along toward Washington, though the poor horse was nearly done up.
Shelby came abreast the poor panting beast, leaned quietly over, caught the bridle and cried, "Whoa!" The horse was only too delighted to oblige him. Not so "Cabby."
With wrath and ire he rose to mete out justice to this highwayman. Had the butt of his whip hit Shelby he would have seen more stars than twinkled overhead. But it didn't. It was caught in one hand, given a dexterous twist and sent flying into the road as Shelby said in his quiet drawl:
"Don't get excited. At least, don't let _me_ excite you. I ain't got nothing against you, but you can't take those 'slopers no further this night."
"'Lopers nothin'! Me fares is two ladies on their ways to the Willard. 'Tis a niece and aunt they are."
"Say, you're easy. I thought you fellows wise to most any game. Niece and aunt! Shucks! Come 'long out aunt, or Cousin Pauline, or whatever you are, and you, Miss Doolittle, just don't do nothin' but live up to that name you've got. Lord, whoever named you knew his or her business all right, all right! Here come Bolivar and his daughter to bear a hand. Now don't set out to screech and carry on, 'cause if you do you'll make more trouble and it looks like you'd made a-plenty a-ready. And you shut up!" cried Shelby, now thoroughly roused, as Paul Ring, his disguise removed and stowed in his suitcase blustered from the cab. "Quit! or I'll crack you're addle-pated head for you, you young fool. Do you know what it will mean if I report you at Annapolis? Well, unless you make tracks for Bancroft P. D. Q.--that means pretty decidedly quick, Nelly,--you're going to get all that is comin' to you with compound interest. Beat it while your shoes are good. We'll escort your girl back to home and friends. Nelly, get into that cab. Cabby, these are two school girls and this man is this one's father. Now go about and head for the home port. No rowing. Yes, you'll get paid all right, all right. I'll stand for the damage and so will Bolivar here. But are _you_ going to dust?" the last words were addressed to Paul Ring to whom Helen was clinging and imploring him not to leave her. But, alas! It was four to one, for cabby's wrath was now centered upon "that hully show of a bloomin' auntie."