“So is this car private property,” I said.
“Well, it’s on private land,” he said.
“That’s all right,” I told him; “it’s private property just the same. Even if it were on the moon it would be private property. It belongs to us. And the field doesn’t belong to you, either. It belongs to Mr. Downing.”
Just then several of the fellows started singing an old tune that we used to fit words to when we were travelling around the country in that car.
“We’re on our way to the river,
We’re on our way to the river,
We’d rather have this than a flivver.
We’ll get there never fear,
And when we get there, we’ll be there
And while we’re here, we’re here.”