The tough's grip was torn from the steering wheel. He was yanked from

the running-board. He crunched down on the road.

She seized the wheel. She drove on at sixty miles an hour. She had gone

a good mile before she got control of her fear and halted. She saw Milt

turn his little car as though it were a prancing bronco. It seemed to

paw the air with its front wheels. He shot back, pursuing the late

guest. The man ran bobbing along the road. At this distance he was no

longer formidable, but a comic, jerking, rabbity figure, humping himself

over the back track.

As the bug whirled down on him, the tough was to be seen throwing up his

hands, leaping from the high bank.

Milt turned again and came toward them, but slowly; and after he had

drawn up even and switched off the engine, he snatched off his violent

plaid cap and looked apologetic.

"Sorry I had to kid him along. I was afraid he really would drive you

off the bank. He was a bad actor. And he was right; he could have licked

me. Thought maybe I could jolly him into getting off, and have him

pinched, next town."

"But you had a gun--a revolver--didn't you, lad?" panted Mr. Boltwood.

"Um, wellllll---- I've got a shotgun. It wouldn't take me more 'n five

or ten minutes to dig it out, and put it together. And there's some

shells. They may be all right. Haven't looked at 'em since last fall.

They didn't get so awful damp then."

"But suppose he'd had a revolver himself?" wailed Claire.

"Gee, you know, I thought he probably did have one. I was scared blue. I

had a wrench to throw at him though," confided Milt.

"How did you know we needed you?"

"Why back there, couple miles behind you, maybe I saw your father get up

and try to wrestle him, so I suspected there was kind of a disagreement.

Say, Miss Boltwood, you know when you spoke to me--way back there--I

hadn't meant to butt in. Honest. I thought maybe as we were going----"

"Oh, I know!"

"--the same way, you wouldn't mind my trailing, if I didn't sit in too

often; and I thought maybe I could help you if----"

"Oh, I know! I'm so ashamed! So bitterly ashamed! I just meant---- Will

you forgive me? You were so good, taking care of us----"

"Oh, sure, that's all right!"

"I fancy you do know how grateful father and I are that you were behind

us, this time! Wasn't it a lucky accident that we'd slipped past you

some place!"

"Yes," dryly, "quite an accident. Well, I'll skip on ahead again. May

run into you again before we hit Seattle. Going to take the run through

Yellowstone Park?"




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