"Sure, I heard a horn," admitted Billers. "But," he added triumphantly, "I didn't see no car."
"Are you blind?" asked Riley. "There's the car."
Lem Billers looked behind. At sight of the sedan, his jaw dropped.
"Well, I'll be hanged!" he declared sadly. "It must be my eyes is goin' back on me. Not my ears. I looked behind three times and I couldn't see no car."
"Don't believe him, officer," said the chauffeur. "He didn't even turn around."
"I did so!" contended Mr. Billers.
"Then why didn't you let me pass?"
"You didn't have no car. I heard a horn but I didn't see no car."
Thereupon the argument grew fast and furious. Constable Riley was vastly puzzled. He didn't know what to make of it. Both the chauffeur and Lem Billers appeared to be telling the truth, yet there was something wrong somewhere. He took it all down in a notebook, while Mr. Billers and the chauffeur grew angrier and angrier at each other until finally they were on the point of settling the matter with their fists.
In the meantime there was a steadily lengthening line of cars and wagons blocking the street, unable to get past because of the hay
