This time she back-fired superbly, and Pyecroft went
out over the right rear wheel in a column of rich yellow flame.
"I've seen a mine explode at Bantry--once--prematoor," he volunteered.
"That's all right," said Hinchcliffe, brushing down his singed beard with
a singed forefinger. (He had been watching too closely.) "Has she any more
little surprises up her dainty sleeve?"
"She hasn't begun yet," said my engineer, with a scornful cough. "Some one
'as opened the petrol-supply-valve too wide."
"Change places with me, Pyecroft," I commanded, for I remembered that the
petrol-supply, the steam-lock, and the forced draught were all controlled
from the right rear seat.
"Me? Why? There's a whole switchboard full o' nickel-plated muckin's which
I haven't begun to play with yet. The starboard side's crawlin' with 'em."
"Change, or I'll kill you!" said Hinchcliffe, and he looked like it.
"That's the 'tiffy all over. When anything goes wrong, blame it on the
lower deck. Navigate by your automatic self, then! _I_ won't help you any
more."
We navigated for a mile in dead silence.
"Talkin' o' wakes----" said Pyecroft suddenly.
"We weren't," Hinchcliffe grunted.
"There's some wakes would break a snake's back; but this of yours, so to
speak, would fair turn a tapeworm giddy. That's all I wish to observe,
Hinch. ... Cart at anchor on the port-bow. It's Agg!"
Far up the shaded road into secluded Bromlingleigh we saw the carrier's
cart at rest before the post-office.
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