llided with small one. Knocked it over
like a ninepin. Lucky I was going so fast. Car uninjured, but tree done
for. Man in car just ahead very much in my way. Shout to him to get out
of the light. Turns round and grins malevolently. Movement fatal. He
forgets to steer and goes crash into ditch. What's that he says? Help?
Silly fellow, does he think I can stop at this pace? Curious how
ignorant people seem to be of simplest mechanical laws.

Magnificent piece of road here. Nothing in sight but a dog. Run over it.
Put on full speed. Seventy miles an hour at least. Can no longer see or
hear anything. Trees, villages, fields rush by in lightning succession.
Fancy a child is knocked down. Am vaguely conscious of upsetting old
gentleman in gig. Seem to notice a bump on part of car, indicating that
it has passed over prostrate fellow citizen, but not sure. Sensation
most exhilarating. Immolate another child. Really most careless of
parents leaving children loose like this in the country. Some day there
will be an accident. Might have punctured my tyre.

Chap in front of me comes in sight. Catching him up fast. He puts on
full speed. Still gaining on him. Pace terrific. Sudden flash just
ahead, followed by loud explosion. Fellow's benzine reservoir blown up
apparently. Pass over smoking ruins of car. Driver nowhere to be seen.
Probably lying in neighbouring field. That puts _him_ out of the race.

Eh? What's that? Aix in sight? Gallop, says Browning. Better not,
perhaps. Road ahead crowded with spectators. Great temptation to charge
through them in style. Mightn't be popular, though. Slow down to fifteen
miles an hour, and enter town amid frantic cheering. Most interesting.
Wonderfully few casualties. Dismount at door of hotel dusty but
triumphant.

* * * * *

Illustration: _First Cyclist_ (_cross-eyed_). "Why the dickens don't
you look where you're going?"

_Second Cyclist_ (_cross-eyed_). "Why don't you go where you're
looking?"

* * * * *

Illustration: QUITE IMPOSSIBLE.--_Motorist._ "What! Exceeding the legal
limit? _Do_ we look as if we would do such a thing?"

* * * * *

Illustration: THE INTERPRETATION OF SIGNS

_Custodian._ "This 'ere's a private road, miss! Didn't yer see the
notice-board at the gate, sayin' 'No thoroughfare'?"

_Placida._ "Oh yes, of course. Why, that's how I knew there was a way
through!"