"'They're likely to ask a stiff price fur this hoss,' I says when we gets to the telegraph office.
"'Buy him,' he says.
"'Do you mean the sky's the limit?' I says, 'n' he nods.
"We cross on the ferry after sendin' the wire. He has the battle-ship under wraps till we hit the open country, 'n' then he lets her step. We gets to goin' faster 'n' faster. I can't see, 'n' I think my eyebrows have blowed off. I'm so scared I feel like my stumick has crawled up in my chest, but I hopes this is the limit, 'n' I grits my teeth to keep from yelpin'. Just then we hits a long straight road, 'n' what we'd been doin' before seemed like backin' up. I can't breathe 'n' I can't stand no more of it.
"'Holy cats!' I yells. 'Cut it!'
"'What's the matter?' he says, when he's slowed down.
"'Holy cats!' I says again. 'Is that what racin' in these things is like?'
"'Oh, no,' he says. 'My mechanic took my racing car over yesterday. This is only a roadster.'
"'Only a—what?' I says.
"'Only a roadster—a pleasure car,' he says.