“Every bit.”
“An’ can he travel?”
“Like a flash. I wouldn’t hesitate to go fifty miles an hour.”
“Howly smoke, fifty moiles in wan hour.”
“Yes, sir, on a good road.”
“An’ ye can manage the masheen?”
“Oh, yes,” said Frank, “nothing easier in the world. That strong leather rein that you see running to either side of his mouth will control his movements as quickly as they can be handled. And I can make the old nag turn just as easily. I’ll tell you how that’s done.”
“Go on,” said Barney.
“Were you ever lost?” asked Frank.
“In a pace o’ woods, is it yer mane, or the loiks o’ that?”