Will Ford was riding directly toward Paul. In an instant Grace's brother had sensed the situation. Skillfully going around the racing car, which had fortunately slackened speed as the driver evidently realized that something was wrong, Will guided his wheel toward Mollie's auto.
Then he turned, so as to ride in the direction in which it was advancing, with ever-increasing speed. Will gauged his progress to that of the car, rode up alongside the run-board, and, in another instant, kicked his wheel from under him and was at Paul's side. In another second he had snapped off the power and applied the brakes.
"What for oo 'top me widing?" demanded Paul, rather indignantly.
Will's heart was beating fast, and he panted for breath, but he managed to answer:
"Too bad, Paulie, but you haven't any license to drive a car, you know, and a policeman might take you."
"Yes?"
"Sure. You mustn't do it again," and Will's voice was sufficiently stern.
"All wight—I won't. But I tan wun a tar, all'e same; tan't I?"
Paul was evidently proud of what he had done.
"Yes, you can, but you mustn't—you mustn't! Do you understand?"