"Crank, I tell you!"
He got out and cranked the car, grumbling all the while. As he got back in the seat beside her, he exploded:
"An' what's more, there's that soldiers' camp at Green Ridge. They won't be allowed to go through it without a pass. There must be a thousand men there. They're marchin' to some'eres in America, the feller told me this mornin' when he come in at Jackson's to get some smokin' terbaccer. Camp at Green Ridge fer two days, he says, an' then—Hey! Don't drive so blamed reckless, Eva! Can't you get her under control? Put on your brakes, woman! She'll—"
"Hush up, Anderson. You let me alone."
The little old car was sailing along at a speed that caused every joint to rattle with joy unconfined. To Anderson's amazement, and to a certain extent consternation, Mrs. Crow swung into the dirt-road over which the big car was now whizzing a mile or so ahead.
"Here! Where you going?" barked Anderson, arising from the seat.
"There's going to be hell to pay before you know it, Anderson Crow," said she, her voice high and squeaky.
"Wha-what was that you said?" gasped her husband, flopping back in the seat. He couldn't believe his ears.