The Curious Incident of the Hillside Road

"No, you won't, sweetheart, 'cause why? 'Cause what'll I do to you
afterwards?"

"You won't do nothin', Jack, 'cause I'd gouge your eyes out."

"Why, lovesoul, d' you suppose I'd be talking up as brash as this to a
bid, stwong man like oo if I didn't have a gun handy?"

"Yuh, I guess so, lil sunbeam. And before you could shoot, I'd crowd
your tin liz into the bank, and jam right into it! I may get killed, but
you won't even be a grease-spot!"

He was turning the Gomez from its straight course, forcing Milt's bug
toward the high bank of earth which walled in the road on the left.

While Claire was very sick with fear, then more sick with contempt, Milt
squealed, "You win!" And he had dropped back. The Gomez was going on
alone.

There was only one thing more for Claire--to jump. And that meant death.

The tough was storming, "Your friend's a crack shot--with his mouth!"

The thin pit-pit-pit was coming again. She looked back. She saw Milt's
bug snap forward so fast that on a bump its light wheels were in the
air. She saw Milt standing on the right side of the bug holding the
wheel with one hand, and the other hand--firm, grim, broad-knuckled
hand--outstretched toward the tough, then snatching at his collar.

The tough's grip was torn from the steering wheel. He was yanked from
the running-board. He crunched down on the road.

She seized the wheel. She drove on at sixty miles an hour. She had gone
a good mile before she got control of her fear and halted. She saw Milt
turn his little car as though it were a prancing bronco. It seemed to
paw the air with its front wheels. He shot back, pursuing the late
guest. The man ran bobbing along the road. At this distance he was no
longer formidable, but a comic, jerking, rabbity figure, humping himself
over the back track.