and attempted to stop her dead again. It wouldn't work. The flighty car kept on rolling and only within an inch or two of the side of the garage did Harold succeed in bringing her to a halt.
"Rotten," observed Moore. "You'll never make a decent driver."
"Aw, the brakes on that old 'bus are terrible," excused Danny.
"They ain't!" denied Moore sharply. "They were just taken up this morning."
Speedy saw his chances of becoming a driver for Moore going glimmering and looked very sad indeed.
"Give me another chance, Mr. Moore?" he asked. "I'll show you."
"Heaven forgive me but I will," said Moore. "Drive me around the block."
Moore climbed into the tonneau of the car. Speedy swung out of the garage at a snail's pace, resolved not to take any chances, and glided very slowly up the street far on the right side.
"What are you doing, falling asleep up there?" Moore yelled as they moved around the corner at about five miles an hour.
Speedy abruptly stepped on the gas, nearly flinging Moore onto the floor. The car picked up quickly, Within a few feet he was hitting up a terrific pace swinging in and out past trucks and other autos, tearing around the next two corners on two wheels and bringing the 'bus to a stop in front of the garage with a jerk that nearly tore her innards out.
