l?"

Grace started.

"Goodness! you're not going to kill him are you?"

"Not unless I have to," replied Betty, and at her expression, Grace
laughed weakly.

"Yes, I brought the pistol," she said. "But it's down in the bottom of
the bag that is underneath all the other bags in the tonneau of Mollie's
car."

Betty groaned.

"And it isn't even loaded," added Grace, as an afterthought. "Mother
said it made her feel safer to have it along since there aren't going to
be any men with us, but she wouldn't have it loaded."

"What good is it then?" queried Betty.

"Just to scare people with."

"Well, that's what I want to do to that--man," cried Betty, trying to
think of something bad enough to call the cranky farmer, who still urged
his team along squarely in the middle of the road and refused to give an
inch. "Only I'd like to scare him to death. My conscience wouldn't even
hurt."

"It would be murder just the same," Grace suggested, with a little
hysterical laugh, "whether you shot him or scared him to death."

Betty was silent for a minute or two, crawling along behind the wagon
while her blood boiled and her anger surged. For Betty came from a race
of fighting ancestors who were not in the habit of submitting to
indignities.

"Grace, I've got to do something!" she burst out at last, gripping the
wheel so tightly her knuckles showed white. "It isn't so much the
valuable time we're losing, but it's an absolute necessity to show that
fellow where he--"

"'Where he gets off,'" Grace finished slangily. "I know dear, but how?"

Betty shook her head helplessly and just glared.

Then suddenly Grace uttered a little cry and sat up straight in her
seat.

"I have it!" she cried. "I know what we can do."

"Tell me," demanded Betty.

"Why, I know this road pretty well," Grace explained, speaking quickly.
"We're not much more than ten miles from Bluff Point."

"Yes, yes," cried Betty impatiently.

"Well, there is a short detour road that juts off from the main road
just a little further on, and after running parallel to the road for
half a mile or so, crosses it again."

"Yes," cried Betty again, beginning to understand the plot.

"So we'll take the detour," Grace finished triumphantly, "and come out,
in front of the farmer."

"And then--" said Betty with a chuckle and a gleam in her eye.

"The rest will be up to us," finished Grace. "Shall we know what to do
then?"

"I'll say we shall," chortled Betty,