The road was narrow and sandy here, and shut in by banks of underbrush; as he drew nearer a figure stepped out and stood in silhouette until his own lights picked it up.

The figure waved its arms, and called attention to the car behind--evidently broken down.
Here, then, the drama was to be played.
Gray brought his machine on at such a pace and so close to the man in the road that the latter was forced to step aside, then he swung it far to the right, brought it back with a quick twist of the steering wheel, and killed his motor.

He was now in the ditch and outside the blinding glare of the opposing headlights; the stalled machine was in the full illumination of his own lamps.
Contrary to Gray's expectations, the car in the road was empty and the man who had hailed him was a stranger.

As the latter approached, he inquired: "What's wrong ?" "Out of gas, I guess.

Anyhow--I--" The speaker noted that there was but one new arrival, where he had expected two, and the discovery appeared to nonplus him momentarily.