"But you must be making a handsome profit, with the price of eggs going up, too, all the time," Jim remarked. The old man gave him a sly glance. "That's how you look at it," he replied. "They oughter go up twice the price they be. My wife's doin' the hired man's work now, an' she's allus pesterin' me to git an incubator, but them things cost a powerful sight of money, an' I don't hold with new-fangled notions; too much resk to them. You can allus sell hens when they git too old to set or lay, but what're you going to do with a wore-out incubator?" He cackled shrilly at his own witticism and then grew morose again. "The way things is, there ain't no profit skeercely in nothin'." They jogged along drowsily through the slumberous heat, while the old man continued his harangue against the cost of everything except his own commodity, and the underfed horses strained to drag their burden over the hilly road. The mountains had been left behind, and all over the rolling hillsides about them on either hand the vineyards stretched in undulating lines, each heavy with the load of purpling grapes. Mile after mile passed slowly beneath the creaking wheels of the wagon; noon came, and still Riverburgh remained tantalizingly ahead. At last, on the rise of a hill, the old man pulled up and pointed with his whip to the spreading sweep of brick buildings fronting on the river's edge below. "There's the town," he announced, adding, with a touch of regret: "We're ahead of time, after all, an' I could have unloaded by myself. Well, it don't matter noways except for the extra drag on the horses. Giddap!" "There's--there's an ottermobile comin' up behind," Lou ventured. "They been tootin' at you for some time, mister." "Let 'em," the old man cackled shrilly once more. "I've been drivin' on these roads afore them things was heard of, an' I don't calc'late to turn out for 'em." The warning of the siren sounded again disturbingly close, and the rush of the oncoming car could be plainly heard. Jim glanced at the old man, and, noting the stubborn set of his jaw, said nothing; but Lou spoke again, and her voice held no note of alarm, but rather indignation at the obvious lack of fair play. "But they got a right; you're on their side of the road," she exclaimed. "If you'd give them their half, mister, they could pass easy." "Don't calc'late to let 'em," he responded obstinately. "Ain't goin' to take their dust if I kin help it." Deliberately he tugged on the left reins and headed the team straight across the road. Lou gave a quick glance over the side of the wagon and behind, and then gripped Jim's arm. He turned and caught one glimpse of her set face, and then with a roar and a grinding crash they both felt themselves lifted into the air and landed in some golden, slimy fluid in the ditch. "Lou, are you hurt?" Jim tried to wipe the clinging stuff from his eyes and ears with his sleeve. "Where are you?"