But upon finally reaching the highway, he increased his speed until he
sighted the dust of the car; this he hung to like a beagle, but never
once allowed the car itself to come into view.
At last the sounds of the Maillard ceased and the pall of dust thinned
and dissolved itself in the air. The motor cycle ran swiftly on until
the car, now at a standstill, became visible; then the Italian got
down, took out a pair of field-glasses and swept the highway before
him.
What he saw must have satisfied him that there would be no more use
for his machine for a time, at least; for he pushed it to a place
where there was a break in a fence and concealed it behind a
musty-looking corn shock, left from the fall before. Then placing the
glass under his arm he walked guardedly along the road in the
direction of Miss Vale's car.
Some distance further on there was a tall swamp maple growing by the
roadside; it was an easy task to mount into its branches from the top
fence-rail; then resting snugly in a high fork, he leveled his glass
and proceeded to scan the scene before him.
Miss Vale had descended from her car; her veil was raised, and she
was gingerly picking at the mechanism with hands sheathed in canvas
gloves.
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