The Mine of Lost Souls

They gained on that upslope, but as the road dropped, the bug started
forward desperately. Another car was headed toward them; was drawn to
the side of the road, in one of the occasional widenings. Pinky passed
it so carelessly that, with crawling spine, Claire saw the outer wheels
of the bug on the very edge of the road--the edge of a fifty-foot drop.
Milt went easily past the halted car--even waved his hand to the waiting
driver.

This did not seem to Claire at all like the chase of a thief. She looked
casually ahead at Pinky, as he whirled round an S-shaped curve on the
downslope, then---- It was too quick to see what happened. The bug
headed directly toward the edge of the road, shot out, went down the
embankment, over and over. It lay absurdly upside-down, its muffler and
brake-rods showing in place of the seat and hood.

Milt quite carefully stopped the Gomez. The day was still--just a
breathing of running water in the deep gully. The topsy-turvy car below
them was equally still; no sight of Pinky, no sound.

The gauche boy gone from him, Milt took her hand, pressed it to his
cheek. "Claire! You're here! You might have gone with him, to make
room---- Oh, I was bullying you because I was bullying myself! Trying to
make myself tell you--but oh, you know, you know! Can you stand going
down there? I hate to have you, but you may be needed."

"Yes. I'll come," she whispered.

Their crawl down the rock-rolling embankment seemed desperately slow.