“I reckon you won’t,” snapped Rockwell. “You’ll either ride with the judge, young man, or else you’ll walk.”
Judge Pembroke seemed surprised at this ugly show of temper.
“You’re welcome to ride in my car,” said he to Fortune.
“Wait for me at the garage, Jimmie,” said Clancy, “providing you get there before we do. If we get there first, I’ll wait.”
“Correct,” returned Fortune, and climbed into the tonneau of the judge’s machine.
The judge, with no very good grace, motioned Hibbard to climb to the driver’s seat, and then followed and took the seat beside him.
“I’ll see you again, Clancy,” called the judge, as the big car started off. “I want to have a talk with you.”
Clancy got in with Rockwell, and the smaller machine got under way. For several minutes Rockwell sat bowed over the steering wheel and did not speak. At last he thawed out enough to remark:
“I wouldn’t have had that happen for a hundred dollars! What business have you butting into my affairs? If it comes to that, what’s your business with me, anyway? Come across with it.”