“Talking about speed! Why, in Wyoming, where we didn’t have any old laws to think about——”
“Oh, why is Wyoming!” chuckled Victor. “What a state it must be to have no laws.”
“Oh ho, this park is a refreshing sight,” broke in Dave—“a little oasis in the midst of mortar, brick and stone. Slow up a bit, Bob, so that we may have a better chance to enjoy the contemplation of nature.”
“You talk like a botany book, Brandon,” grunted Victor. “See here, Somers!”
“Well?”
“Never better, thank you. Let me try my hand at driving?”
Victor’s tone indicated an expectation that his wishes would be acceded to without objection. At home he had been so long accustomed to having his own way that submission to his imperious demands had come to be expected as a matter of course.
Charlie Blake looked alarmed.
“Going to do it, Bob?” he asked.
“Of course he’s going to do it,” grinned Victor, satirically. “Aren’t you, Bob?”