Much as Speedy would have liked to, he did not stop in and speak to Jane the next morning on his way to the car barn. He knew that if he did so, she would probably insist upon accompanying him on his trips with the car. He did not want to embroil her in the impending mêlée. She was better off, physically and mentally, at home, out of danger. He would take a chance of her misunderstanding him. Even after the sign she had given him of her affection for him at parting the night before, it was better that she did not learn of the probable battle today. It would only worry her.
As he walked down De Lacey Street in the early morning sunshine of a perfect, almost summery day, though it was the first week in October, his staunch henchmen greeted him from their store entrances and front porches.
"No signs of rain yet, eh, Speedy?" called out Chris Walters. "Well, just give us the word when you want us."
"All ready for the big fight," Adam Schultz, dusting off the wooden Indian in front of his cigar store, assured him. "Vouldn't it be a shame if nodding happened?"
Speedy grinned. "Don't worry, Adam," he grimly predicted. "There'll be lots doing later."
Others contented themselves with a reassuring
