They went on and on, through the rain and the wind, sometimes through
the mud as well, where the roads were not paved. Foster had almost
pounced upon the newspaper when he discovered it in Bud's pocket as he
climbed in, and Bud knew that the two read that feature article avidly.
But if they had any comments to make, they saved them for future
privacy. Beyond a few muttered sentences they were silent.
Bud did not care whether they talked or not. They might have talked
themselves hoarse, when it came to that, without changing his opinions
or his attitude toward them. He had started out the most unsuspecting
of men, and now he was making up for it by suspecting Foster and Mert of
being robbers and hypocrites and potential murderers. He could readily
imagine them shooting him in the back of the head while he drove, if
that would suit their purpose, or if they thought that he suspected
them.
He kept reviewing his performance in that garage. Had he really intended
to steal the car, he would not have had the nerve to take the chances
he had taken. He shivered when he recalled how he had slid under the car
when the owner came in. What if the man had seen him or heard him? He
would be in jail now, instead of splashing along the highway many miles
to the south. For that matter, he was likely to land in jail, anyway,
before he was done with Foster, unless he did some pretty close
figuring. Wherefore he drove with one part of his brain, and with
the other he figured upon how he was going to get out of the mess
himself--and land Foster and Mert deep in the middle of it. For such was
his vengeful desire.
After an hour or so, when his stomach began to hint that it was eating
time for healthy men, he slowed down and turned his head toward the
tonneau. There they were, hunched down under the robe, their heads drawn
into their collars like two turtles half asleep on a mud bank.
"Say, how about some lunch?" he demanded. "Maybe you fellows can get
along on whisky and sandwiches, but I'm doing the work; and if you
notice, I've been doing it for about twelve hours now without any
let-up. There's a town ahead here a ways--"
"Drive around it, then," growled Foster, lifting his chin to stare ahead
through the fogged windshield. "We've got hot coffee here, and there's
plenty to eat. Enough for two meals. How far have we come since we
started?"
"Far enough to be called crazy if we go much farther without a square
meal," Bud snapped. Then he glanced at the rumpled newspaper and added
carelessly, "Anything new in the paper?"