At the summit a bend in the road had once more brought the wind on the beam.  Eves instantly hoisted the sail, and the yacht in a few moments gathered way.  The road here ran through an open down; there were no hedges to blanket the yacht; and on the high ground the wind blew with the force of half a gale.  Giving signs of the liveliest excitement, the Irishman, his hair flying in the wind, bent over the back of Templeton’s seat, and every few seconds shouted the indications of the speedometer, his voice growing louder as the figures mounted up. "Ten—fourteen—eighteen—twenty"—he followed the pointer round the dial, and when it quivered on 33 he swung his arm round, uttering a wild "Hurroosh!" and was not a whit abashed when Templeton half turned a rebuking face towards him and warned him of the risk of plunging overboard.