"
Bud grunted and put the ten dollars in his pocket.
"What idea's that?"
"Oh, driving a car I'm taking south. Sprained my shoulder, and
don't feel like tackling it myself. They tell me in here that you
aren't doing anything now--" He made the pause that asks for an
answer.
"They told you right. I've done it."
The man's eyebrows lifted, but since Bud did not explain, he
went on with his own explanation.
"You don't remember me, but I rode into Big Basin with you last
summer. I know you can drive, and it doesn't matter a lot whether
it's asphalt or cow trail you drive over."
Bud was in too sour a mood to respond to the flattery. He did
not even grunt.
"Could you take a car south for me? There'll be night driving,
and bad roads, maybe--"
"If you know what you say you know about my driving, what's the
idea--asking me if I can?"
"Well, put it another way. Will you?"
"You're on. Where's the car? Here?" Bud sent a seeking look
into the depths of the garage. He knew every car in there. "What
is there in it for me?" he added perfunctorily, because he would
have gone just for sake of getting a free ride rather than stay
in San Jose over night.
"There's good money in it, if you can drive with your mouth
shut.
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