“The devil you do!” roared Tyke angrily. “I’ll give ye enough then, you little runt you,” and they shot into the highway into the midst of the worst traffic they had yet seen. Tyke was so angry he could scarcely see where he went, and he let out the power till they seemed to be but a streak in the air as they flew along to what seemed like destruction. It seemed to little Lib of the fiery heart that she was aging as she went, that if she ever stopped she would be old and tottering, that her hands were numb and her face stung with the wind, and she was cold to her soul through the thin little clothing she wore. But she gave no sign, as the car went on and on, and miles of trees and meadows and houses and towns shot by in the flash of an eye. Lib wondered if it would go on forever. And then, just as she thought she could not hold on another minute, as she wished she might drop from the back and be crushed into insensibility by the fall, and never come to life again any more, because her heart hurt so in her breast, and her eyes were going to cry (which to Lib was the worst thing that could ever happen to her, that she should be weak enough to cry)--just then, when things could not have gone on any longer and she exist, they came to a road leading into the woods and the motor cycle slowed down and bumped into the rough road and up a hill into dense woods, suddenly coming to a standstill. Tyke turned upon her with an evil look. “You little devil, you!” he said, glaring at her with the glare of one who had been baffled. Lib was too frightened to speak, and her teeth were chattering with the cold, but she lifted her game little face toward his evil one and suddenly stuck out her tongue and made an impish face at him, expressing all the hate and loathing of her little courageous soul. The man looked down at her astonished, blinking, scarcely believing that such daring could come from a baby. “I c’d kill you, you young ’un--” he muttered. “I don’t see what good that would do,” said Lib unexpectedly, her quick mind intrigued by the situation. “You couldn’t find out where my uncle lived by killing me, could you? It isn’t written inside my head anywhere,” and she laughed a ghoulish little laugh made all the more weird by the tremble of her voice. “Well, I’ll be----” But Lib was gathering strength with her breath as it returned. “I never said I wouldn’t tell you where my uncle was, did I?” The man was speechless. Could it be that this mere infant was kidding him? Not scared at all, but just putting one over on him? He stared at her in bewilderment. Lib, eying him, knew that she had gained a point. She summoned voice again.