CHAPTER XIII
OUTWITTING A CRANK
"Old grouch," cried Mollie, shaking a vindictive little fist after the departing farmer. "If it hadn't been that you would have killed yourself too, Betty, I almost wish you had hit him."
"Well, I don't," said Grace ruefully. "Nobody ever thinks of poor me."
"I guess we had better be a little more careful in the future," said Mrs. Ford, a worried line between her brows. "Better to be a little longer reaching Bluff Point than to endanger our lives and perhaps the lives of others."
"It almost looks as if we shouldn't have any choice," said Mollie, and they looked at her in surprise.
"Well, we can't hope to pass that wagon," she explained, indicating the vehicle that was now some hundred feet in front and was waddling along at a snail's pace. "There isn't room, with the ditch on one side and the drop on the other."
"It will be easy enough if he moves to one side of the road," suggested Amy.
"He'll move over if we toot at him," added Grace.