"This is safe enough," he announced, "and my muscles are kinda
crampy. I'll tell the world that's been quite some spell of
straight driving."
Mert grunted, but Foster was inclined to cheerfulness. "You're
some driver, Bud. I've got to hand it to you."
Bud grinned. "All right, I'll take it--half of it, anyway,
if you don't mind. You must remember I don't know you fellows.
Most generally I collect half in advance, on a long trip like
this." Foster's eyes opened, but he reached obediently inside his
coat. Mert growled inaudible comments upon Bud's nerve.
"Oh, we can't kick, Mert," Foster smoothed him down
diplomatically. "He's delivered the goods, so far. And he
certainly does know how to put a car over the road. He don't know
us, remember!"
Mert grunted again and subsided. Foster extracted a bank note
from his bill-folder, which Bud observed had a prosperous
plumpness, and held it out to Bud.
"I guess fifty dollars won't hurt your feelings, will it,
brother? That's more than you'd charge for twice the trip, but we
appreciate a tight mouth, and the hurry-up trip you've made of
it, and all that It's special work, and we're willing to pay a
special price. See?"
"Sure. But I only want half, right now.
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