“Hello! Hello, Mr. Fraser!”
“I’ll race you to the bridge.”
“Go on, now! Watcher think I got here?” But the girls chorused delightedly, and teased their driver—all but one, and she leaned forward to whisper confidingly, with her arms around his fat neck. Miss Herron surveyed the landscape.
“’Fraid cat!” giggled the girl. “You’re afraid, Mr. Mayer.”
“I ain’t, only——”
“One!” cried Archie, releasing his steed again. “Two!”
“Leggo, May!” grunted the other.
“And——”
“Three!” yelled Mayer. “To the bridge!”
By mere good luck the highway was empty, for to think that any cart or carriage could be passed was absurd. Side by side the huge machines, scarlet, green, alive with shining brass, tore along with the roar of express trains between the ditch and the bank. The slightest swerve at such speed meant death. The chatter of the careless girls dwindled, the faces of the rival drivers grew pale and tense.