“Legion,” was the enthusiastic answer, which elastic comment settled the question of Edna Black, for the time being, at least.

The roads through Glenwood wound up and down like thread on a spool. Scarcely did the Fire Bird find itself on the top of a hill before it went scooting down to the bottom. Then another would loom up and it had to be done all over again.

This succession of steep grades, first tilting up and then down, kept Ned busy throwing the clutches in and out, taking the hills on the low gear, then slipping into full speed ahead as a little level place was reached, and again throwing off the power and drifting down while the brakes screeched and hummed as if in protest at being made to work so hard. The two girls, meanwhile, were busy speculating on what would happen if an “something” should give way, or if the powerful car should suddenly refuse to obey the various levers, handles, pedals and the maze of things of which Ned seemed to have perfect command.

“This reminds me of the Switch-back Railway,” remarked Nat, as the machine suddenly lurched first up, and then down a rocky “bump.”

“Y-y-y-es!” agreed Ned, shouting to be heard above the pounding of the muffler. “It’s quite like a trip on the Scenic Railway—pretty pictures and all.”

“I hope it isn’t dangerous,” ventured Dorothy, who had too vivid a remembrance of the narrow escape on a previous ride, to enjoy the possibility of a second adventure.

“No danger at all,” Ned hastened to assure her.

“A long hill at last!” exclaimed Nat, as the big strip of brown earth uncoiled before them, like so many miles of ribbon dropped from the sky, with a knot somewhere in the clouds. “A long hill for sure. None of your dinky little two-for-a-cent kinds this time!”

“Oh!” gasped Dorothy, involuntarily catching at Ned’s arm. “Be careful, Ned!”

Ned took a firmer grip on the steering wheel, as he finished throwing out the gear and shutting off the power, while the spark lever sent out a shrill sound as he swung it in a segment over the rachet.

The hill was not only remarkably steep, but consisted of a series of turns and twists. Down the grade the car plunged in spite of the brakes that Ned jammed on, with all his force, to prevent a runaway. He was a little pale, but calm, and with his steady hands on the wheel, clinging firmly to it in spite of the way it 

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