Down at the foot of the long hill they met the cow and her owner, a tall, cadaverous-looking individual, who eyed our friends frowningly.
"I see you got your cow all right enough," remarked Ben.
"So I did, but I'd a mighty long run to stop her," growled the man.
"You put us in quite a hole; do you know that?" went on Ben.
"'Tain't none of my fault," replied the owner of the cow, quickly. "I have as much right on this road with my cow as you have with that there autymobile."
"Just the same, you had no right to let your cow keep to the middle of the road," cried Ben. "If we had had a worse accident we might have held you responsible."
"Huh! Hold me responsible, eh? Well ye wouldn't have got a cent out of me," said the owner of the cow, and then he passed on up the hill once more, driving the animal before him. The cow was contentedly chewing her cud, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened to disturb her.
A quarter of a mile further on our friends came to a small stream spanned by rather a shaky-looking bridge, over which each machine was run with great care. On the other side of the stream they came to another fork of the road.
"Here's a signboard anyway!" cried Dave, whose car was now in advance. "'Rayville Four Miles.' We'll be there soon if this road holds out."
"I think you'll find the roads around Rayville all right," called Mr. Basswood to him. "My friend told me that they were in good condition, especially those on the other side of the town."