“That is likely. Any one who knows Miss Bellwood is usually ready to do anything possible for her. Is this your own team, Mr. Muldoon?”
“Yes, suh. Great pair of hosses. Git, there, Demon! Hi, there, Ginger! Yes! Take ’er out!”
Cunningham cracked his whip over the horses, and put them both into a mad run, while with a leering grin he looked sideways at Frank to see the college chap get pale and frightened.
“What do yo’ think of this fer goin’?” he demanded.
“Oh, it’s fair,” answered Frank, “but you haven’t the right kind of a carriage for it.”
“Hey?” roared Cunningham, in astonishment. “Ain’t you satisfied with this? Well, I’ll touch ’em up a little more, suh!”
Then he rose to his feet and—swish, cut! swish, cut!—the whip whistled through the air and twined about the horses. The animals tried to go out of their harnesses, and the carriage careened along the road at a wild rate of speed.
But when Cunningham looked to see the effect on his companion he was astonished to discover that the “college chap” was still unruffled and serene.
“How does this suit yo’, suh?” inquired the ruffian.
“This is very fair, if your horses can do no better.”