He drove off and his mischievous smile broadened on his lips the instant he saw Tito pedaling two-hundred yards before him.
"There you are!" he said, and closing quickly the gap between them, he applied a little more pressure on the gas pedal, rammed the fender into the rear tire of his bicycle, and Tito advanced forcibly a fair distance with extraordinary thrilling rapidity; during these moments he felt an unexpected adrenaline rush and the strange sensation as if flying.
"Like that shit? Here I come again!" Lewis cried darkly, and, unveiling two crooked rows of white teeth in a roguish smile and accelerating determinedly, he drove the fender a second time into the rear tire, thrusting Tito over thirty yards down Victory Boulevard.
He celebrated with crude, victorious shouts.
"Why are you stopping, chicken shit!" he added jeeringly, staring at Tito with a hard, roguish expression.