brakes assailed the ears of the
thanksgiving Crows, and to their astonishment the big machine came to a
standstill a hundred yards or more down the road. Mrs. Crow promptly
"put on" the accelerator, and but for a vehement warning from her
husband would have gone full tilt into the rear end of the mighty
stranger. She managed to stop the little car when its faithful nose was
not more than two yards from the little red light ahead.

"Hey, Ford!" called out a man who had arisen in the tonneau of the big
car and was looking back at them.

"Hey, yourself!" responded Anderson.

"Is this the road to Albany?"

"No, it ain't."

"We've lost our way. Where does this road take us?"

"Into the city of Tinkletown."

Three or four voices in the car were guilty of saying things in the
presence of a lady.

"Well, where in hell are we?" demanded the spokesman.

"You ain't in hell yet, but you will be pretty soon if you keep up that
reckless driving, lemme tell you that."

"Where do we get the Albany road?" called out another voice from the
car.

"The quickest way is to go into Tinkletown an' take the first turn to
the left after--"

"But we don't want to go to Tinkletown, you damned old hayseed. We--"

"Shut up, Joe!" cried one of the men. "He's excited, Mister. His wife's
sick, and we're trying to get him home before she--before she croaks."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," cried Mrs. Crow before Anderson could speak. She
also kicked him violently on the ankle-bone. "The quickest way to get to
the Albany road," she went on, "is by cuttin' through back of Cole's
sawmill an' crossin' the river at Goose's Ferry. That's about seven
miles from here. Take the first lane to your left, half a mile further
on."

"Much obliged, ma'am."

"You're entirely welcome," said she, this time poking her elbow into
Anderson's ribs. He grunted.

"Is the road pretty good all the way?"

"It's a good dirt road."

"We're in a great hurry, ma'am. Is it safe to hit it up a little on the
dirt-road? His wife specially wanted to see him before she died."

"Perfectly safe, as long as you keep _in_ it."

"Nightie!" called the spokesman, and the big car leaped forward as if
suddenly unchained.

"Well, of all the--" began Anderson wrathfully.

"Get out and crank this car, Anderson," she broke in excitedly.

"You know as well as I do that that dirt road ends at Heffner's farm. It
don't go nowheres near the river. What ails you, Eva Crow? That poor
fe