Dean strained for a glimpse of the yellow jacket he had pursued so vigorously but either he had missed the rider or the biker had shed the jacket to the warmth of the valley.
He could see the biker clearly now, six or seven telephone poles ahead.
"How about this," said another biker while still another whistled.
At this speed he was sure he was gaining ground on the other biker.
The yellow jacket and telltale 888 were Dean's only clues to the biker's identity.