Тридцять дев’ять ступенів

           Theeveningwasnowdrawingin,andIwasfuriouslyhungry,forIhadeatennothingsincebreakfastexceptacoupleofbunsIhadboughtfromabaker’scart.

           JustthenIheardanoiseinthesky,andloandbeholdtherewasthatinfernalaeroplane,flyinglow,aboutadozenmilestothesouthandrapidlycomingtowardsme.

           IhadthesensetorememberthatonabaremoorIwasattheaeroplane’smercy,andthatmyonlychancewastogettotheleafycoverofthevalley.DownthehillIwentlikebluelightning,screwingmyheadround,wheneverIdared,towatchthatdamnedflyingmachine.SoonIwasonaroadbetweenhedges,anddippingtothedeep-cutglenofastream.ThencameabitofthickwoodwhereIslackenedspeed.

           SuddenlyonmyleftIheardthehootofanothercar,andrealizedtomyhorrorthatIwasalmostuponacoupleofgate-poststhroughwhichaprivateroaddebouchedonthehighway.Myhorngaveanagonizedroar,butitwastoolate.Iclappedonmybrakes,butmyimpetuswastoogreat,andtherebeforemeacarwasslidingathwartmycourse.Inasecondtherewouldhavebeenthedeuceofawreck.Ididtheonlythingpossible,andranslapintothehedgeontheright,trustingtofindsomethingsoftbeyond.

           ButthereIwasmistaken.Mycarslitheredthroughthehedgelikebutter,andthengaveasickeningplungeforward.Isawwhatwascoming,leaptontheseatandwouldhavejumpedout.