became purple with anger. He sounded the horn again and again, and finally, when Lem Billers obstinately refused to pay any attention, he looked wildly about for a policeman.
As luck would have it, Constable Con Riley was ambling along Main Street at that moment, wondering if it would soon be supper time and hoping his wife would serve corned beef and cabbage that evening. He was aroused from his trance by the chauffeur, who brought the sedan to a stop and ran over to him.
"Officer—arrest that man!" roared the chauffeur, pointing to Lem Billers.
"What for?" demanded Con, taking off his helmet and scratching his head.
"Obstructing the traffic. He won't let me pass. I've been sounding my horn for the last five minutes, and he won't let me go past."
"Oh, ho!" said Constable Riley. "He can't get away with that. Not while Con Riley's on the beat." And with that he ran out into the road, shouting to Lem Billers to stop.
At the constable's command, the farmer halted his team and gazed in amazement at the chauffeur and the officer as they came running up to him.
"Why won't you let him pass?" demanded the constable.
"Don't say you didn't hear me?" roared the chauffeur. "I sounded my horn fifty times."
