ong the back of
his seat and waited, his head turned toward them. "Where are you fellows
going, anyway?" he asked impatiently.

"Los An--" the stranger gurgled, still drinking.

"Yuma!" snapped Foster. "You shut up, Mert. I'm running this."

"Better--"

"Yuma. You hit the shortest trail for Yuma, Bud. I'm running this."

Foster seemed distinctly out of humor. He told Mert again to shut up,
and Mert did so grumblingly, but somewhat diverted and consoled, Bud
fancied, by the sandwiches and coffee--and the whisky too, he guessed.
For presently there was an odor from the uncorked bottle in the car.

Bud started and drove steadily on through the rain that never ceased.
The big car warmed his heart with its perfect performance, its smooth,
effortless speed, its ease of handling. He had driven too long and too
constantly to tire easily, and he was almost tempted to settle down to
sheer enjoyment in driving such a car. Last night he had enjoyed it, but
last night was not to-day.

He wished he had not overheard so much, or else had overheard more. He
was inclined to regret his retreat from the acrimonious voices as being
premature. Just why was he a simp, for instance? Was it because he
thought Foster owned the car? Bud wondered whether father-in-law had not
bought it, after all. Now that he began thinking from a different angle,
he remembered that father-in-law had behaved very much like the proud
possessor of a new car. It really did not look plausible that he would
come out in the drizzle to see if Foster's car was safely locked in for
the night. There had been, too, a fussy fastidiousness in the way the
robe had been folded and hung over the rail. No man would do that for
some other man's property, unless he was paid for it.

Wherefore, Bud finally concluded that Foster was not above helping
himself to family property. On the whole, Bud did not greatly disapprove
of that; he was too actively resentful of his own mother-in-law. He was
not sure but he might have done something of the sort himself, if his
mother-in-law had possessed a six-thousand-dollar car. Still, such a
car generally means a good deal to the owner, and he did not wonder that
Foster was nervous about it.

But in the back of his mind there lurked a faint dissatisfaction with
this easy explanation. It occurred to him that if there was going to
be any trouble about the car, he might be involved beyond the point of
comfort. After all, he did not know Fo