"I do too," acquiesced Alice. "Did you see how sharply the man looked at us?"
"Who, the man that was shot?"
"No, the one in the auto. He stared and stared!"
"Probably he wondered where in the world we got a horse in these days that was afraid of an auto. I wonder myself where this steed has been in hiding. There are so many cars now that it is a wonder horses aren't using gasoline as perfume."
"No, he wasn't looking at the horse," persisted Alice. "He was looking at us. Perhaps he knew you, Estelle."
"Why do you say that? I'm sure I never saw him before. Maybe it was you he was staring at."
"No, it was you he was staring at, but I don't blame him. You are very striking looking to-day."
"It's this dress. Isn't it quaint?"
"And pretty! Oh, but we mustn't talk so frivolously when that poor man may be dying. We must drive faster."
"Talking isn't going to make the horse go any slower. In fact, I think maybe he'll go quicker to get the trip over with sooner so he can be rid of our chatter. But I don't think the poor man is badly hurt. He may bleed a lot, but they can hold that in check until we get the doctor."