regularity at every leap.
I was still trying to devise some way of pulling loose the goad and persuading Maud to slow down when we entered town.
At first the houses whizzed past at intervals of two or three seconds; but it seemed hardly half a minute before we came in sight of the square and the court house. We were creating quite an excitement, too. People screamed frantically at us from porches and windows and the sidewalk.
Occasionally a man would spring into the road to stop Maud, think better of it, and spring out again.
One misguided individual hurled a fence-rail across the path. It didn't worry Maud in the slightest, for she happened to be all in the air while passing over that particular point, but when the auto went over the rail it nearly jarred out my teeth.
Another fellow pranced up, waving a many-looped rope over his head. I think Maud must have transfixed him with her fiery eye, for before he could throw it his nerve failed and he scuttled back to safety.
Those who had teams hitched in the square were hurrying them out of danger, and when we whirled by the court-house only one buggy remained in the road.
That buggy belonged to Burkett, the constable. The town pays Burkett a percentage on the amount of work he does, and Burkett is keen on looking up new business.
“Stop, there!” he shouted, as we came up. “Stop!”
Nobody stopped.
“Stop, or I'll arrest the whole danged lot of ye fer fast drivin'!” roared Burkett, gathering up reins and whip.
And with that he dashed into the place behind Enos Jackson and crowded the bicyclists to the side of the road.
Our county town is a small one, and at the pace set by Maud it didn't take us long to reach the far side and sweep out on the highway which leads, eventually, to Boston.
I began to wonder dimly whether Maud's wind and my water and gasolene would carry us to the Hub, and, if so, what would happen when we had
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