“But poor Henry G. was curled up against the cushions and we couldn't get nothin' out of him but groans. And all the time we was sailin' along up the road. “'Turn around, Jonadab!' orders Henrietta. 'Turn around and go for the doctor!' “Jonadab's hands was clutched on that wheel, and his face was white as his rubber collar. “'Jerushy!' he groans desperate, 'I--I don't know HOW to turn around.' “'Then stop, you foolhead!' I bellers. 'Stop where you be!' “And he moans--almost cryin' he was: 'I--I've forgotten how to STOP.' “Talk about your situations! If we wa'n't in one then I miss my guess. Every minute we was sinkin' Denboro below the horizon. “'We MUST get to a doctor,' says the widow. 'Where is there another one, Mr. Wingate?' “'The next one's in Bayport,' says I, 'and that's ten mile ahead if it's a foot.' “However, there wa'n't nothin' else for it, so toward Bayport we put. Bradbury groaned once in a while, and Mrs. Bassett got nervous. “'We'll never get there at this rate,' says she. 'Go faster, Jonadab. Faster! Press down on--on that thing he told you to. Please! for MY sake.' “'Don't you--' I begun; but 'twas too late. He pressed, and away we went. We was eatin' up the road now, I tell you, and though I was expectin' every minute to be my next, I couldn't help admirin' the way the Cap'n steered. And, as for him, he was gettin' more and more set up and confident. “'She handles like a yacht, Barzilla,' he grunts, between his teeth. 'See me put her around the next buoy ahead there. Hey! how's that?' “The next 'buoy' was a curve in the road, and we went around it beautiful. So with the next and the next and the next. Bayport wa'n't so very fur ahead. All to once another dreadful thought struck me. “'Look here!' I yells. 'How in time are we goin' to stop when we--OW!' “The Bassett woman had pinched my arm somethin' savage. I looked at her, and she was scowlin' and shakin' her head. “'S-sh-sh!' she whispers. 'Don't disturb him. He'll be frightened and--' “'Frightened! Good heavens to Betsy! I cal'late he won't be the only one that's fri--' “But she looked so ugly that I shut up prompt, though I done a heap of thinkin'. On we went and, as we turned the next 'buoy,' there, ahead of us, was another auto, somethin' like ours, with only one person in it, a man, and goin' in the same direction we was, though not quite so fast. “Then I WAS scart. 'Hi, Jonadab!' I sings out. 'Heave to! Come about! Shorten sail! Do you want to run him down? Look OUT!' “I might as well have saved my breath. Heavin' to and the rest of it wa'n't included in our pilot's education. On we went, same as ever. I don't know what might have happened if the widow hadn't kept her head. She leaned over the for'ard rail of the after cockpit and squeezed a rubber bag that was close to Jonadab's starboard arm. It was j'ined to the fog whistle, I cal'late, 'cause from under our bows sounded a beller like a bull afoul of a barb-wire fence.