"Allen, Grant - Miss Cayley's Adventures 03 - The Adenture of the Inquisitive American" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Grant)

Germans won't be worth a cent on the high slopes, anyway!'

Encouraged by his voice, I worked steadily on, neither
scorching nor relaxing, but maintaining an even pace at my
natural pitch under the broiling sunshine. Heat rose in
waves on my face from the road below; in the thin white
dust, the accusing tracks of six wheels confronted me.
Still I kept on following them, till I reached the town of
Hochst--nine miles from Frankfort. Soldiers along the route
were timing us at intervals with chronometers, and noting
our numbers. As I rattled over the paved High Street, I
called aloud to one of them. 'How far ahead the last man?'

He shouted back, good-humouredly: 'Four minutes,
Fraulein.'

Again I lost heart. Then I mounted a slight slope, and
felt how easily the Manitou moved up the gradient. From its
summit I could note a long gray cloud of dust rolling
steadily onward down the hill towards Hattersheim.

I coasted down, with my feet up, and a slight breeze just
cooling me. Mr. Hitchcock, behind, called out, full-
throated, from his seat, 'No hurry! No flurry! Take your
time! Take--your--time, miss!'

Over the bridge at Hattersheim you turn to the right
abruptly, and begin to mount by the side of a pretty little
stream, the Schwarzbach, which runs brawling over rocks down
the Taunus from Eppstein. By this time the excitement had
somewhat cooled down for the moment; I was getting
reconciled to be beaten on the level, and began to realise
that my chances would be best as we approached the steepest
bits of the mountain road about Niederhausen. So I
positively plucked up heart to look about me and enjoy the
scenery. With hair flying behind--that coil had played me
false--I swept through Hofheim, a pleasant little village at
the mouth of a grassy valley inclosed by wooded slopes, the
Schwarzbach making cool music in the glen below as I mounted
beside it. Clambering larches, like huge candelabra, stood
out on the ridge, silhouetted against the skyline.

'How far ahead the last man?' I cried to the recording
soldier. He answered me back, 'Two minutes, Fraulein.'

I was gaining on them; I was gaining! I thundered across
the Schwarzbach, by half-a-dozen clamorous little iron
bridges, making easy time now, and with my feet working as
if they were themselves an integral part of the machinery.
Up, up, up; it looked a vertical ascent; the Manitou glided