"If there are any extra passengers in the runabout," said McGlory resolutely, "I'm the one."
"My word!" muttered Twomley. "I hope everything's all serene, I do, indeed. I'm a juggins at waiting when there's so much excitement going on."
"Juggins is good," grunted McGlory. "You can retire somewhere, Mr. Twomley, and hold onto your nerves while the rest of us hunt up the 'barker.' You'll not shine much till we find Wily Bill, anyhow."
"You're an odd stick," answered Twomley, whose good nature was not a thing to be ruffled.
He was sharp enough to see that the cowboy had a pique at him, and he had sufficient good sense to take it calmly.
"Py shinks," said Carl, after ten more weary minutes had passed, "Matt has hat time to do some centuries himseluf, und I can't guess it oudt for vy he don'd get pack. Oof you don'd dake me in der runaboudt, den, so helup me, I vill valk. Anydink is pedder to shtand as uncerdainties."
Carl constantly watched the road that paralleled the car track. And so, for the most part, did the Englishman.
"My word, but it is trying!" murmured Twomley. "If we could only see a bit of dust, then we'd know Motor Matt was coming, and my relief would be profound."
"Dust! Ach, himmelblitzen! Vy, Matt vill go so fast on dot machine der dust vill be a mile pehindt und you don'd see dot."
"Here's something," came from McGlory. "Speak to me about it, will you? Where's Ping? Little Slant-eyes is always around when anything is doing, but I haven't seen him since he finished watering the calliope."