“We know that—go on.”
“And—and I suppose we did get pretty fuzzy. You know Sal—you know she never can hold it. We told her to cut down, but you know how much effect that has on her; pretty soon she was so blotto she was making eyes at a couple of old boys in the corner. Isn’t that so, Dum-Dum? Wasn’t she blotto?”
Dum-Dum nodded.
“The old boys got fresh and we were feeling good, so—well, I guess we got mixed up pretty well. Well, then we thought we’d come away, in fact the head waiter or some such stuff requested our departure, all of us, so we eased out. Got out to the car and the old boys’ was next. Of course Dum-Dum couldn’t start it.”
“The old boys’ car?”
“Nope; ours. Sal got sore right off—said we were doing it on purpose. The old boys stayed in their car and watched the fun. Dum-Dum got under the car, but that didn’t do any good. Finally I got under too. Dunno how long we were fooling around there—my pocket lamp burnt out—but we heard Sal talking. Thought she was talking to us, so we didn’t listen. Then all of a sudden we heard some brakes grinding a tune, and Sal yelling she’d never get back to town with us so she was going with them. I rolled out from under and saw the tail-lights of the old boys’ car spinning away.” He stopped and looked at them appealingly. “What could we do? We couldn’t speed up and follow after. All we could do was sit around and cuss Sal—which we did, complete. Then we worked on the car some more till somehow Dum-Dum slipped a cog and fixed it.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Jim. “You take a girl down to a road house, get her drunk, and then let her sail off with two strange men, having no other objection than cussing?”
“What else could we do? We couldn’t get a taxi and follow them up—it was no free garage.”
“But there were other cars, and owners who could be made to understand.”
“Whadyoumean, understand?” Crawf had been regarding Jim with increasing objection. “Perhaps you’re in the habit of stealing cars from understanding owners. I don’t get that way.”