Then, after looking at the boy for a minute, with his face twisted into an astonished sort of grin, he went on: “Say, kid, how in hell did you git here? Robbin' the cradle, Oi call it, to send you here, kid.”
“I stole a Ford,” the boy answered cheerfully.
“Like hell you did!”
“Sold it for five hundred francs.”
Happy laughed, and caught hold of an ash can to keep from being thrown out of the jolting truck.
“Kin ye beat that, guard?” he cried. “Ain't that somethin'?”
The guard sniggered.
“Didn't send me to Leavenworth 'cause I was so young,” went on the kid placidly.
“How old are you, kid?” asked Andrews, who was leaning against the driver's seat.
“Seventeen,” said the boy, blushing and casting his eyes down.