"Oh, it won't," smiled Hawkins, settling down to his machinery once more.
"Dear me, Griggs, do look at the crowd!"

There was indeed a crowd. They had sprung up on the instant, and they were
racing along beneath us across the common, quite regardless of the "Keep
Off the Grass" signs.

"How they will stare when we step out on the roof, won't they?" observed
Hawkins.

"If we don't step out on their heads!" I snapped. "Steer away from those
telegraph wires, Hawkins."

"Yes, yes, of course," said the inventor, nervously regarding the thirty
or forty wires strung directly across our path. "Queer this thing doesn't
respond more readily!"

"Well, make her respond!" I cried, excitedly, for the wires were
dangerously near.

"I'm doing my best, Griggs," grunted the inventor, twisting this wheel and
pulling that lever. "Don't worry, we'll sail over them all right. We'll
just--pshaw!"

With a gentle, swaying kind of bump, the auto stopped. We had grounded, so
to speak, on the telegraph wires.

"That's the end of this trial trip!" I remarked, caustically. "The
epilogue will consist of the scene we create in distributing our brains
over that green grass below."