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Updated: July 29, 2025


I shall be dining at Pagani's where we used to go so much, you remember." "I remember. I hope you'll have a fine day." He gave a savage twitch to the hand-brake, let in his clutch, and in a moment or two the car ran forward. "It beats me," he whispered to himself. "It just beats me." His whisper was lost in the rush of the car down the hill.

He examined a new cut in one of my tires and loosened my hand-brake a notch. He couldn't seem to find enough to do for me. From the house came a hail. I am not sure that he did not hold his breath as he listened. "James, dear!" again. "Hello!" he answered. "James, dear, won't you bring your automobile pliers, please, and see if you can open this jar of marmalade?" My little man went in whistling.

Yet there is another way out, and that way is up. So I do not wait for my pursuers to arrive. I climb upon the upright ironwork of the platform and stand upon the wheel of the hand-brake. This has taken up the moment of grace and I hear the shacks strike the steps on either side. I don't stop to look.

"Even if I could get to the head of the train, I couldn't stop her with the hand-brake; should I succeed in locking the wheels, the brute would be doing fifty miles an hour by that time the front truck would slide and skid, leave the tracks and pile up with me at the bottom of a mess of wrecked rolling-stock and redwood logs." Then he remembered.

If I hadn't been sure of that, of course I would have stopped the car at any cost. As a matter of fact, when we began the descent I found that the hand-brake wouldn't act, and knew the chains had gone wrong.

I could see a corner coming. The pain was awful. My head began to swim, and I felt the near wheel rise on the bank. I wrenched the car round, took out the clutch and dragged the lever into neutral. As I jammed on the hand-brake, I seemed to see many lights. Then came the noise of a horn, cries, and the sound of tires tearing at the road. I fell forward and fainted. I could smell Daphne.

At 4 o'clock the next morning, the 18th, I repaired to the Chancellor's quarters. The carriage was at the door, also the saddle-horse, but as no spare mount could be procured for General Forsyth, he had to seek other means to reach the battle-field. The carriage was an open one with two double seats, and in front a single one for a messenger; it had also a hand-brake attached.

I know that the two shacks and the conductor will arrive like ravening wolves in about two seconds. I spring upon the wheel of the hand-brake, get my hands on the curved ends of the roofs, and muscle myself up to the decks; while my disappointed pursuers, clustering on the platform beneath like dogs that have treed a cat, howl curses up at me and say unsocial things about my ancestors.

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