“Poltroon!” laughed Gustav and shot the driver. The car zigzagged and dashing into the wall stove it in and hung suspended over the abyss.

“Dora,” I said, “can you use firearms?”

She could not, but we taught her how to load. She was clumsy at first and hurt her finger and cried and wanted court-plaster. But Gustav told her it was war and that she must show her courage. Then it went better.

“But what’s going to become of us?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” said Gustav. “My friend Harry is fond of pretty girls. He’ll look after you.”

“But the police and the soldiers will come and kill us.”

“There aren’t any police and suchlike any more. We can choose, Dora. Either we stay quietly up here and shoot down every car that tries to pass, or else we can take a car and drive off in it and let others shoot at us. It’s all the same which side we take. I’m for staying here.”

And now there was the loud tooting of another car beneath us. It was soon accounted for and lay there wheels uppermost.

Gustav smiled. “Yes, there