“Have you ever been arrested for that?” the human leopard demanded. “No, because I can always shuffle out my little driver’s license, but they stop me about six times a minute when I’m away from Bridgeboro, because I look so young and innocent. I’m under age and I’ve got a special under-age license, that’s why. It’s because I’m so smart and am such an expert driver. I always _foil_ them as you would say. It must be getting on toward suppertime, I’m hungry. I think I’ll get supper.” “If you think you’re so smart,” shouted Pee-wee, “tell me how I’m going to get down out of here. Don’t you suppose _I_ want to eat supper, too? _Gee whiz!_” “Oh, I mean smart driving an automobile,” said Townsend. “You make me sick,” shouted Pee-wee. “How about the big handle up there?” Townsend asked. “I pulled it,” said Pee-wee, “and it doesn’t work.” “Exasperating,” said Townsend. “I think I’ll fry some of those griddle-cakes; let’s see, you use flour—and—” “Don’t you touch the eats as long as I’m up here,” Pee-wee thundered. “Do you think I’m going to stand up here and see you eat?” “You could look out of one of the other windows,” said Townsend. “I appreciate how you feel.” “I feel hungry!” roared Pee-wee. Townsend arose, sauntered over to the car and dug among the luggage. Returning to his former lolling place, he lay down on his back again and began to eat a banana. “You throw one of those up here,” Pee-wee shouted. Townsend took another from his pocket and sitting up threw it so it fell just short of the window. “You did that on purpose,” roared Pee-wee. “I’m so weak from hunger that I can’t throw,” said Townsend. “Wait till I’ve had a little nourishment and I’ll try again. Let’s talk about the relay race. No, let’s tell Ford stories. Why is a—” “_You throw that banana up here, do you hear!_” Pee-wee fairly screamed, glaring down like a frowning judge from his high rostrum, his face decorated with vivid smudges, his scowl terrible to behold. “Why is this Ford like a stew?” Townsend asked. “Do you give it up?” “You give that banana up,” shouted Pee-wee. “No fooling—now! Here comes an automobile along the road; now maybe you’ll get arrested for blocking up the road with that big gate and it’ll serve you right.” “Here you go,” laughed Townsend, throwing the banana so that it struck the round countenance of our hero. “What kind of a car is it, a roadster or a two seater?” “It’s a roadster,” said Pee-wee, studying it with the glass. “I think it’s a Buick.” “Inspector’s car probably,” said Townsend languidly. “You’d better get up,” Pee-wee said. “You’d better get down,” said Townsend. “How am I going to do it?” Pee-wee yelled. “Don’t ask me,” said Townsend. “You’ve got a banana peel; can’t you slip down on that?” “You think you’re funny,” Pee-wee roared. “I’d like to know how I’m going to get down out of here.” “So would I,” said Townsend. “Do you think I can stay here forever? Ask that woman if she’s got a ladder?”