d," she confessed.

"Why, you just back her, same as anybody else does, an' then reverse
her, an'--"

"You old goose, how can I back her when she keeps on going for'ard?"

Anderson was silent for a moment.

"Well, if I may be so bold as to ask, madam, where are you going?" he
asked, with deep sarcasm in his voice.

"You leave it to me, Anderson Crow. I know what I am doing."

They went on for about a quarter of a mile before she spoke again.

"There's only one way to turn around, and I'm taking it. How far is it
to Fisher's lane?"

"You can't turn her around in Fisher's lane, Eva. It's all a good-sized
dog c'n do to turn around in that road."

"I asked you how far is it?"

"'Bout a mile an' a half."

"I ain't going to turn around in Fisher's lane, Anderson. I'm going to
foller it straight to the Britton toll-road, and then I'm going to turn
into that and head for Tinkletown. That's how I'm going to turn this
plagued car around."

"Well, of all the--why, geminently, Eva, it's--it's nigh onto nine mile.
You shorely can't be such a fool as to--"

"I'm going to turn this car around if it takes twenty miles," she said
firmly.

There was another long, intense silence.

"I wonder if the boys have got that fire out yet?" mumbled Anderson.
"Course, there ain't no use worryin' about them robbers. They got away.
If I'd been along with that posse, we'd 'a' had 'em sure by this time,
but--oh, well, there ain't no use cryin' over spilt milk."

In due time they came to Fisher's lane. Mrs. Crow made a very sharp but
triumphant turn, and the second leg of the course was before them. Half
an hour later the valiant machine sneaked out of the narrow byway into
the Britton pike and pointed its nose homeward.

"Let her out a little, Eva," said Anderson, taking a long breath. "It's
four mile to town, an'--"

"Oh, goodness!" squeaked the driver, giving the wheel a perilous twist.
"Look! There comes a car behind us. Help! They'll run into us!
They'll--"

"Pull off to the side of the road--no, this side! Gosh! Hurry up, Eva.
They're comin' like greased lightnin'! Look out! Not too fer over!
There's a ditch alongside--"

The remainder of the sentence was lost in the wild shriek of a siren,
shriek after shriek succeeding each other as a big car, with
far-reaching acetylene lamps, roared down upon them. Like a mighty
whirlwind it swept by them, careening perilously on the sloping edge of
the road. Suddenly the grinding of