He kept the ten dollars therefore, and went down to the garage where he felt most at home, and stood there with his hands in his pockets and the corners of his mouth tipped downward--normally they had a way of tipping upward, as though he was secretly amused at something--and his eyes sullen, though they carried tiny lines at the corners to show how they used to twinkle. He took the ten-dollar bank note from his pocket, straightened out the wrinkles and looked at it disdainfully. As plainly as though he spoke, his face told what he was thinking about it: that this was what a woman had brought him to! He crumpled it up and made a gesture as though he would throw it into the street, and a man behind him laughed abruptly. Bud scowled and turned toward him a belligerent glance, and the man stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun. “If you've got money to throw to the birds, brother, I guess I won't make the proposition I was going to make. Thought I could talk business to you, maybe--but I guess I better tie a can to that idea.” Bud grunted and put the ten dollars in his pocket. “What idea's that?” “Oh, driving a car I'm taking south. Sprained my shoulder, and don't feel like tackling it myself. They tell me in here that you aren't doing anything now--” He made the pause that asks for an answer. “They told you right. I've done it.” The man's eyebrows lifted, but since Bud did not explain, he went on with his own explanation. “You don't remember me, but I rode into Big Basin with you last summer. I know you can drive, and it doesn't matter a lot whether it's asphalt or cow trail you drive over.” Bud was in too sour a mood to respond to the flattery. He did not even grunt. “Could you take a car south for me? There'll be night driving, and bad roads, maybe--” “If you know what you say you know about my driving, what's the idea--asking me if I can?” “Well, put it another way. Will you?” “You're on. Where's the car? Here?” Bud sent a seeking look into the depths of the garage. He knew every car in there. “What is there in it for me?” he added perfunctorily, because he would have gone just for sake of getting a free ride rather than stay in San Jose over night. “There's good money in it, if you can drive with your mouth shut. This isn't any booster parade. Fact is--let's walk to the depot, while I tell you.” He stepped out of the doorway, and Bud gloomily followed him. “Little trouble with my wife,” the man explained apologetically. “Having me shadowed, and all that sort of thing. And I've got business south and want to be left alone to do it. Darn these women!” he exploded suddenly. Bud mentally said amen, but kept his mouth shut upon his sympathy with the sentiment.