"Yes!" I says. "And so will I--in a day coach of the Sante Fe!"

Well, he coaxed, threatened and so-forthed me, until finally I took a
chance and climbed in beside him. The populace at the doors give three
cheers and wished us good luck as we banged and rattled through their
midst. We went on down the street, attractin' no more attention than
the German army would in London, and every time we turned a new corner
people run out of their houses to see was there a parade comin'. We
passed several sure enough automobiles and they sneered at us, and one
of them little flivvers got so upset by the noise that it blowed out a
tire as we went by. Finally, we come to the city line and the Kid says
he figures it's about time to see can the thing travel. He monkeys
around them strange buttons on the steerin' wheel, pulls a handle here
and there and presses a lever with his foot. The minute he did that we
got action! That disappearin' cannon in the back went off three times
and I bet it blowed up all the buildin's in the block. There was a
horse and buggy passin' at the time and the guy that was drivin' it
don't know what happened yet, because at the first bang, that horse
started for the old country and it must have been Lou Dillon--believe
me, it could run! I looked back and watched it. A big cloud of smoke
rolls up from the back of the car, and I seen guys runnin' out of
stores and wavin' to us with their fists and then a couple of brave and
bold motorcycle cops jumps on their fiery steeds and falls in behind.

I guess the ex-owner of this bus was on the level at that about doin'
them forty-five thousand miles in a week, because this car could have
beat a telegram across the country, "when she got warmed up!" as I.
Markowitz says. Every one of them six cylinders was in there trying
and when they worked together like little pals and forgot whatever
private quarrels they had, the result was _speed_, believe me! The Kid
was hangin' on to the steerin' wheel and havin' the time of his young
life and I was hangin' on to the seat and wishin' I had listened to
that insurance agent in New York. We come to the top of a hill and as
we start down the other side the prize boob of the county is waterin'
the pavement around his real estate. When he hears us, he drops the
hose which makes it all wet in front of us.

"Hold tight!" screams the Kid to me. "We're gonna do a piece of
skiddin'. I forgot to get chains!"

Just ab