Arriving at the tarred highway the two alighted from the cab. Eves took up his post above the brushes as before, and O'Reilly, eager to watch the working of Templeton's apparatus at close quarters, chose a somewhat precarious position on the opposite side of the framework.
"Now, Tom," said Templeton, his manner betraying a little nervousness, "if you see the gear dropping, just raise it. There's very little mud, but there are pools here and there, and I don't want to splash you. I propose to run straight ahead for a few minutes till I get up a fair speed, for I fancy the mechanism will work better then. Are you ready?"
"Righto. The road's clear."
Templeton started his engine. The machine moved forward, at first slowly, but gradually gathering way. Eves kept a watchful eye on the brushes, and when they showed no sign of dropping he remarked to O'Reilly, "I think old Bob's done the trick this time."
"Maybe," replied O'Reilly, in an undertone, "but this reversing gear, now."
The speed continually increased until it reached a rate of about fifteen miles an hour. There was no traffic on the road, and Templeton was on the point of slowing down, preparatory to stopping and turning, when, rounding a slight bend, he came to a cross-road just as the head of the civic procession arrived at the corner. The town sergeant, bearing the mace, led the way; behind him came Noakes, in his mayoral robes, followed immediately by the councillors, the senior of whom carried a magnum bottle of cider.
Templeton caught sight of the procession just in time to avoid a collision. Forgetting in the excitement of the moment the necessity of slowing down before bringing the reverse into action, he swung round on the pivot. The effect was amazing. The machine, instead of running in the opposite direction, plunged forward with zigzag rushes, charging into the procession. Templeton lost his head, forgot his brakes, and made frantic efforts to stop the engine, but something had stuck. Eves, between alarm and amusement at the stampede of the civic dignitaries, forgot to keep his eye on the brushes, which had dropped owing to the change of gear, and now began to race. Unlike the highway, the cross-road was deep in mud, and as the machine ran from side to side, dashing first into one hedge, then the other, the brushes flung up mud in all directions. Eves and O'Reilly were splashed from head to foot, but the full effect of this outrageous behaviour of the road-sweeper was felt by Noakes and the councillors immediately behind him. They had sought safety by backing into the hedge opposite to that at which the machine appeared to be charging as it approached them. Unhappily for them, it suddenly altered its direction, passed within a few inches of their shrinking forms, and covered them with a deluge of liquid mud. There was a crash as the bottle of cider fell and splintered into fragments, and loud cries of alarm and objurgation from the bespattered victims.
"COVERED THEM WITH A DELUGE OF LIQUID MUD."
The incident occupied barely half a minute. Templeton recovered himself, stopped his engine, rammed on his brakes, and, least bemired of all the actors, got down to make his apologies. Eves and O'Reilly by this time were shaking with laughter. Noakes, seeing that the machine had come to a stop, approached the contrite driver with uplifted fist, too irate even to speak. He had tried to rub the splashes of mud from his cheeks, with the result that he had only spread them.