to say, the machine had not been vitally injured in the smashup, though badly damaged with regard to looks.
Frank backed out, and with a few deft manipulations that proved the truth of his assertion that he could run a car, managed to head the machine once more toward Columbia. Neither of the men seemed to notice just what he was doing. The one who had appeared to Frank first was bending down over his friend, and they were holding a whispered conversation.
"Put him in; now Ralph," said the new chauffeur, quietly, "you and Bones come along after, and leave my gun and the ducks at my house. I'll be home long before you get there, I reckon, unless this old machine takes a notion to be tricky again and dump us."
Still groaning, the man was lifted into the tonneau.
"How do you feel, sir?" asked Frank, solicitously; although, truth to tell, he could not say that he liked the looks of either of the parties, judging from what little he had seen of them by the light of the lone lamp.
"Pretty bum, boy. The trouble is, my right arm hangs down like it might be broken; and without it I can't handle the wheel, you see. My friend here don't know nothing about a machine, the worse luck.
