Strangely enough, my touch seemed to bring his confidence back.
He gave one whoop. . . . Then he threw back his head and laughed up into my eyes.
“You do work hard,” he said. “I thought you were done.”
The road was falling now for a long half-mile.
I stretched out a hand and switched his engine off.
He cursed me for that. Then he stamped on the clutch.
“I’ll take you to find her in hell,” he cried, and headed straight for the brink.
I clapped my hands on his and wrenched the wheel about.
For a second I thought we were over. . . . Then the car swung back to the crown of the road.
Again he swerved to the off, and I wrenched her back.