and signs in English and German and Yiddish.
Through the throngs Oliver drove, his brows knitted with impatience and
his horn honking angrily. "Take it easy,"--protested Montague; but the
other answered, "Bah!" Children screamed and darted out of the way, and
men and women started back, scowling and muttering; when a blockade of
wagons and push-carts forced them to stop, the children gathered about
and jeered, and a group of hoodlums loafing by a saloon flung ribaldry
at them; but Oliver never turned his eyes from the road ahead.

And at last they were out on the bridge. "Slow vehicles keep to the
right," ran the sign, and so there was a lane for them to the left.
They sped up the slope, the cold air beating upon them like a
hurricane. Far below lay the river, with tugs and ferry-boats ploughing
the wind-beaten grey water, and a city spread out on either bank--a
wilderness of roofs, with chimneys sticking up and white jets of steam
spouting everywhere. Then they sped down the farther slope, and into
Brooklyn.

There was an asphalted avenue, lined with little residences. There was
block upon block of them, mile after mile of them--Montague had never,
seen so many houses in his life before, and nearly all poured out of
the same mould.

Many other automobiles were speeding out by this avenue, and they raced
with one another. The one which was passed the most frequently got the
dust and smell; and so the universal rule was that when you were behind
you watched for a clear track, and then put on speed, and went to the
front; but then just when you had struck a comfortable pace, there was
a whirring and a puffing at your left, and your rival came stealing
past you. If you were ugly, you put on speed yourself, and forced him
to fall back, or to run the risk of trouble with vehicles coming the
other way. For Oliver there seemed to be but one rule,--pass everything.

They came to the great Ocean Driveway. Here were many automobiles,
nearly all going one way, and nearly all racing. There were two which
stuck to Oliver and would not be left behind--one, two, three--one,
two, three--they passed and repassed. Their dust was blinding, and the
continual odour was sickening; and so Oliver set his lips tight, and
the little dial on the indicator began to creep ahead, and they whirled
away down the drive. "Catch us this time!" he muttered.

A few seconds later Oliver gave a sudden exclamation, as a policeman,
concealed behind a bus