“Yes, but I’ll take my chances with the trolley,” replied Gordon. “There it goes now. I wonder if the fellows caught it.”
“Sure. Anyway, we’ll soon see. I can catch that trolley as though it was standing still!” Morris pulled down his throttle and the little car bounded forward with a deeper hum of its engine. Gordon grasped the arm of the seat beside him.
“Never mind!” he exclaimed. “I don’t care whether they did or not, Morris! Pull her down!”
Morris obeyed, laughing. “Shucks,” he said, “that wasn’t fast. We were only going twenty-five or six miles an hour.”
“How do you know?” grumbled Gordon, relaxing his grip.
Morris indicated the speedometer with his foot. “That thing tells you,” he explained. “Watch the long hand. We’re doing sixteen now. I’ll hit her up a bit. There, see the hand move around? Twenty—twenty-two—twenty-four——”
“That’ll do, thanks! And for the love of mud, Morris, keep her away from this fence!”
“Why, there’s five feet there,” protested the driver.
“Y-yes, but the old thing wabbles so it gives me heart failure!”
“You just think it does,” returned Morris. “I can keep her as straight as an arrow if I want to.”