“Governor,” he said, “if you’d seen fit to notify me by telefone that business of importance made it necessary for you to go skihooting through this town, I’d have had the speed limit raised to fifty miles an hour for the occasion, and the officers keepin’ an open and clear road for ye. But when you was ketched, and hauled up before me, same as any other private person, and give a fictitious name, I figgered there was only one way to handle the case, which was the same as I’d handle any other. I’m agin’ these here highway locomotives on principle, and I’d fine the Czar of Roosia if he was took up for speeding in one within the limits of this town.” Something like a faint smile began to play around the corners of the governor’s mouth. “How many times have you ridden in an automobile, Judge Wiggin?” he asked. “Jest about as many times as you’ve rid on the tail of a comet, governor. A good, fast-steppin’ hoss suits me.” “Exactly. And you’ve driven some fast steppers in your time. No doubt you’ve driven them through the streets of this town at a much greater speed than eight miles an hour, thus endangering the lives of pedestrians and others upon the highways.” “Endangerin’ fiddlesticks! I know how to handle hosses, sir. I’ve broke and trained hundreds of ’em in my day. I know how to guide ’em and how to stop ’em.” “Still you may not realize that an expert driver of a motor car has far more perfect control over his machine than the driver of a spirited horse can possibly have over the animal. Likewise, an auto moving at the same relative speed as a horse attached to a carriage may be stopped more quickly than the horse. Therefore the machine, properly handled, is a smaller menace to human safety than a horse-drawn carriage.” “Governor,” said Nathan P. Wiggin, “politeness forbids me to tell you jest what I think of that statement. Besides, I’ve got my coat on.” “If you’re too prejudiced,” said the governor, “get into this car with me, and you shall have a demonstration.” Just how this invitation would have been received at that moment cannot be said. Through the crowd came a panting, freckled, red-headed young man, flinging people aside with his long arms. “Hey, Jedge Wiggin!” he called chokingly. “Bessie’s gone crazy! Come home quick!” “Whut’s that, Lem Dodd?” cried the judge, snapping round and grabbing the young man by the shoulder. “My darter—gone crazy? What d’ye mean?”