Frank backed out, and with a few deft manipulations that proved
the truth of his assertion that he could run a car, managed to
head the machine once more toward Columbia. Neither of the men
seemed to notice just what he was doing. The one who had appeared
to Frank first was bending down over his friend, and they were
holding a whispered conversation.

"Put him in; now Ralph," said the new chauffeur, quietly, "you and
Bones come along after, and leave my gun and the ducks at my
house. I'll be home long before you get there, I reckon, unless
this old machine takes a notion to be tricky again and dump us."

Still groaning, the man was lifted into the tonneau.

"How do you feel, sir?" asked Frank, solicitously; although, truth
to tell, he could not say that he liked the looks of either of the
parties, judging from what little he had seen of them by the light
of the lone lamp.

"Pretty bum, boy. The trouble is, my right arm hangs down like it
might be broken; and without it I can't handle the wheel, you see.
My friend here don't know nothing about a machine, the worse luck.
So I don't see but what we've just got to let you do the drivin'
for us. It's nice in you proposin' it, too. Ugh! that hurts some,
I tell you!"

The man accompanied his words with more or less vehement
expressions that did not raise him the slightest in the estimation
of Frank. However, he was evidently in great bodily pain, and that