“There’s your chance,” stuttered Mark.
“Good-by,” says I, waving my hand. “Tell the folks I went agin the enemy as brave as a lion.”
Then I went for the car. It was no trick at all to reach inside for a wire that would put the ignition out of business. I unscrewed it at both ends. Unscrewing one end would have stopped the machine, but there would have been a wire dangling, and any idiot would know that was what the matter was. But I took the wire clean out. It would take a pretty good repair-man to trace the trouble, especially when there wasn’t any way for a wire to get out of the car, and when the car had been running along as nicely as possible.
I stuck the wire in my pocket and slid back where Mark was.
“I guess,” says I, “that Mr. Skip’ll stay put for a while, anyhow.”
“C-come on, then,” says he. “We’ll light out for Sunfield.”
“Sixteen miles,” says I.
“We’ll git to ride part of it, anyhow,” says he.
“But,” says I, “I want to stay and watch Jehoshaphat when that car won’t start. I want to see that man Clancy crank. It’ll be a reg’lar three-ring circus with a menagerie tent and a side-show.”
He sort of hesitated a minute, for Mark enjoyed a joke as well as anybody else, but he shook his head and says: