So unexpectedly, so genially, that Claire wondered if he realized what
was happening, Milt chuckled to the tough on the running-board, as the
two cars ran side by side, "Bound for some place, brother?"
The unwelcome guest looked puzzled. For the first time his china eyes
ceased twinkling; and he answered dubiously: "Just gettin' a lift." He
sped up the car with the hand-throttle. Milt accelerated equally.
Claire roused; wanted to shout. She was palsied afraid that Milt would
leave them. The last time she had seen him, she had suggested that
leaving them would be a favor.
Her guest growled at her--the words coming through a slit at the corner
of his rowdy mouth, "Sit still, or I'll run you over."
Milt innocently babbled on, "Better come ride with me, bo'. More room in
this-here handsome coupelet."
Then was the rough relieved in his uneasy tender little heart, and his
eyes flickered again as he shouted back, not looking at Milt, "Thanks,
bub, I'll stick by me friends."
"Oh no; can't lose pleasure of your company. I like your looks. You're a
bloomin' little island way off on the dim silver skyline." Claire
knitted her brows. She had not seen Milt's rhetoric. "You're an island
of Hesperyds or Hesperides. Accent on the bezuzus. Oh, yes, moondream, I
think you better come. Haven't decided"--Milt's tone was bland--"whether
to kill you or just have you pinched. Miss Boltwood! Switch off your
power!"
"If she does," the tough shouted, "I'll run 'em off the bank."
"No, you won't, sweetheart, 'cause why? 'Cause what'll I do to you
afterwards?"
"You won't do nothin', Jack, 'cause I'd gouge your eyes out."
"Why, lovesoul, d' you suppose I'd be talking up as brash as this to a
bid, stwong man like oo if I didn't have a gun handy?"
"Yuh, I guess so, lil sunbeam. And before you could shoot, I'd crowd
your tin liz into the bank, and jam right into it! I may get killed, but
you won't even be a grease-spot!"
He was turning the Gomez from its straight course, forcing Milt's bug
toward the high bank of earth which walled in the road on the left.
While Claire was very sick with fear, then more sick with contempt, Milt
squealed, "You win!" And he had dropped back. The Gomez was going on
alone.
There was only one thing more for Claire--to jump. And that meant death.
The tough was storming, "Your friend's a crack shot--with his mouth!"
The thin pit-pit-pit was coming again. She looked back. She saw Milt's
bug snap forward so fast that on a bump its light wheels were in the
air. She saw Milt standing on the right side of the bug holding the
wheel with one hand, and the other hand--firm, grim, broad-knuckled
hand--outstretched toward the tough, then snatching at his collar.