's
men in Lund that'd give an ear to meet me in a narrow trail with a
hairpin turn an' me on the outside an' drunk.

"They'd like it to be about a four-thousand-foot drop, straight down.
Lund as a town ain't so crazy about me that they'd close up whilst I
was bein' planted, an' stop all traffic for five minutes. A show
benefit was sprung on Lund once, to help Casey Ryan that was supposed
to be crippled. An' I had to give a good Ford--a DARN' good Ford!--to
the benefitters, so is they could git outa town ahead uh the howlin'
mob. That's how I know the way Lund loves Casey Ryan. Yuh can't kid
ME, young feller."

Meanwhile, Casey swung north into Cajon Pass; up that long, straight,
cement-paved highway to the hills he showed his new friend how a Ford
could travel when Casey Ryan juggled the wheel. The full moon was
pushing up into a cloud bank over a high peak beyond the Pass. The few
cars they met were gone with a whistle of wind as Casey shot by.

He raced a passenger train from the mile whistling-post to the
crossing, made the turn and crossed the track with the white finger of
the headlight bathing the Ford blindingly. He completed that S turn
and beat the train to the next crossing half a mile farther on; where
he "spiked 'er tail", as he called it, stopping dead still and waiting
jeeringly for the train to pass. The engineer leaned far out of the
cab window to bellow his opinion of such driving; which was unfavorable
to the full extent of his vocabulary.

"Nothin' the matter with a Ford, as I can see," Casey observed
carelessly, when he was under way again.

"You sure are some driver," his new friend praised him, letting go the
edge of the car and easing down again into the seat. "Give yuh a Ford
and all the gas yuh can burn and I can't see that you'd need to worry
none about any of them saps that makes it their business to interfere
with travelin'. I'm glad that moon's quit the job. Gives the
headlights a show. Hit 'er up now, fast as yuh like. After that
crossin' back there I ain't expectin' to tremble on no curves. I see
you're qualified to spin 'er on a plate if need be. And for a Ford,
she sure can travel."

Casey therefore "let 'er out", and the Ford went like a scared lizard
up the winding highway through the Pass. At Cajon Camp he slowed,
thinking they would need to fill the radiator before attempting to
climb the steep grade to the summit. But the young man shook his head
and gave the "hig