"Show some real speed and I'll pump the siren," cajoled Speedy.
In answer the driver pressed the gas, the ambulance swung into that break-neck gait characteristic of New York emergency wagons and Speedy, exulting inwardly, sounded the ear-splitting siren with all his might. Traffic parted in front of them. Policemen at the corners halted the crosstown stream of vehicles and motioned them on. Perhaps the policemen missed the usual white coated chauffeur at the wheel and the similarly clad interne swinging from the strap on the back step. But by the time the bluecoats had puzzled over their absence, the ambulance was already a full block away.
"Swing to the left at 59th. I want to go down to the river," suggested Speedy between gasps for breath. The siren-pumping was hard work and the speed almost choked him.
"All right, kid," replied the driver. "This is fine as long as it lasts. Haven't had a whirl like this since I was a despatch rider in France."
In another few minutes they had swung around the corner and were headed west. Emergency brakes were clamped on approaching cars. Horses were frantically reined in. Sidewalk pedestrians craned their necks at the wildly sounding siren and stared after it when it had passed. The ambulance continued to breeze along like the wind. Fifth Avenue was reached. Fifth Avenue was passed. Then Broadway. At last the river shining in the sun between the dock buildings appeared in the dis-
