Across the Roof of the World

"Of course you ought to go back, and let me drive alone. Absolutely
insane, your----"

"But you would like me to go along, wouldn't you!"

"Like you to? It's our last ride together, and that bloomin' old
Browning never thought of a ride together by midnight over the roof of
the world! No, it's really our first ride together, and tomorrow--you're
gone."

"No, I sha'n't be gone, but----" Addressing herself to the astounded
overalled man on the porch, she declared, "You're quite right, Jeff. And
Milt is wrong. Insane adventure. Only, it's wonderful to be young enough
to do insane adventures. Falling down abyssy places is so much more
interesting than bridge. I'm going--going--going!... Milt, you
telephone."

"Don't you think you better?"

"No, siree! Father would forbid me. Try not to get him--just tell Dr.
Beach where we're going, and hang up, and scoot!"

All night they drove; down the Pacific side of Blewett Pass; down the
sweeping spirals to a valley. Dlorus drowsed in the extra seat. Claire's
sleepy head was fantastically swaying. She was awakened by an
approaching roar and, as though she sat at a play, she watched a big
racing machine coming toward them, passing them with two wheels in the
ditch. She had only a thunderous glimpse of the stolid driver; a dark,
hooded, romantic figure, like a sailor at the helm in a storm.

Milt cried, "Golly! May be a transcontinental racer! Be in New York in
five days--going night and day--take mud at fifty an hour--crack
mechanic right from the factory--change tires in three minutes--people
waiting up all night to give him gasoline and a sandwich! That's my idea
of fun!"