I hauled out my roadmap and eyed the pages as I drove by perception. U.S. 67 led to St. Louis and from there due North. I had a hunch that by the time we played hide and seek through St. Louis and got ourselves hazed out to their satisfaction, I'd be able to give a strong guess as to our ultimate destination.
I settled down in my seat and just drove, still hoping to cut fast and far around them on my way to Homestead.
XXIII
Three times during the night I tried to flip around and cut my way through their cordon, and each time I faced interception. It was evident that we were being driven and so long as we went to their satisfaction they weren't going to clobber us.
Nurse Farrow woke up along about dawn, stretched, and remarked that she could use a toothbrush and a tub of hot water and amusedly berated herself for not filling the back seat before we took off. Then she became serious again and asked for the details of the night, which I slipped her as fast as I could.
We stopped long enough to swap seats, and I stretched out but I couldn't sleep.
Finally I said, "Stop at the next dog wagon, Farrow. We're going to eat, comes anything."
"Won't that be dangerous?"
"Shucks," I grunted angrily. "They'll probably thank us. They're probably hungry too."