It looks to us like it's somebody from the
Centipede. They're equal to any devilment."
Speed showed an utter lack of comprehension, so Willie explained.
"Understand, we've made this race pay or play. Mebbe they aim to
cripple you."
"Me!" Speed started. "Good Heavens!"
"Oh, they'd do it quick enough! I wouldn't put it past 'em to
drop a .45 through your winder if it could be done safe."
"Shoot me, you mean?"
"Allah!" said Glass, devoutly from his corner.
Stover and Willie nodded. "If I was you, I'd keep the lamp
between me and the winder every night."
"Why, this is abominable!" exclaimed the young college man,
stiffly. "I--I can't stand for this, it's getting too serious."
"There ain't nothin' to fear," said Willie, soothingly.
"Remember, I told you at the start that we'd see there wasn't no
crooked work done. Well, I'm goin' to ride herd on you, constant,
Mr. Speed." He smiled in a manner to reassure. "If there's any
shootin' comes off, I'll be in on it."
"S--say, what's to prevent us being murdered when we're out for a
run?" queried Glass.
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