Bud also had glanced at the news items of less importance, and
had been startled enough--yet not so much surprised as he
would have been a few hours earlier--to read, under the
caption: DARING THIEF STEALS COSTLY CAR, to learn that a certain
rich man of Oakland had lost his new automobile. The address of
the bereaved man had been given, and Bud's heart had given a flop
when he read it. The details of the theft had not been told, but
Bud never noticed their absence. His memory supplied all that for
him with sufficient vividness.

He rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and with the paper stuffed
carelessly into his pocket he went to the car, climbed in, and
drove on to the south, just as matter-of-factly as though he had
not just then discovered that he, Bud Moore, had stolen a six-
thousand-dollar automobile the night before.



CHAPTER FIVE. BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES

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