he grumbled to himself. "Big a butt-in as Marie's mother, at
that. Huh. Never saw my suit case, never noticed the different
numbers, never got next to the chains--huh! Regular old he-hen,
and I sure don't blame Foster for wanting to tie a can to the
bunch."

Very cautiously he turned his flashlight on the face of the
automobile clock. The hour hand stood a little past ten, and Bud
decided he had better go. He would have to fill the gas tank, and
get more oil, and he wanted to test the air in his tires. No
stops after they started, said Foster; Bud had set his heart on
showing Foster something in the way of getting a car over the
road.

Father-in-law would holler if he heard the car, but Bud did not
intend that father-in-law should hear it. He would much rather
run the gauntlet of that driveway then wait in the dark any
longer. He remembered the slope down to the street, and grinned
contentedly. He would give father-in-law a chance to throw a fit,
next morning.

He set his suit case in the tonneau, went out of the little
door, edged around to the front and very, very cautiously he
unlocked the big doors and set them open. He went in and felt the
front wheels, judged that they were set straight, felt around the
interior until his fingers touched a block of wood and stepped
off the approximate length of the car in front of the garage,
allowing for the swing of the doors, and placed the block there.
Then he went back, eased off the emergency brake, grabbed a good
handhold and strained forward.