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The man in the car stepped down from his driving-seat, once he was sure of firm ground under his wheels again, and walked slowly and wistfully about his resurrected devil-wagon. "The wages of sin is mud," he said as I trotted up to him. "And how much better it would have been, O Singing Pine-Tree, if I'd never taken that car!"
Once he had got me safely fastened inside his rickety, creaky devil-wagon he pulled all the stops all the way out and went tearing up the crowded boulevard like a comet with a can tied to its tail. I hammered on the glass and begged him to slow down that is, I hammered on the glass and tried to beg him to slow down.
Komatsu conveyed this message to the stricken sister, who shook her head violently. "Honorable devil-wagon shoot pistol. Japanese no likee," he said. Closer and closer pressed the tense mob about the party. These courteous and gentle Japanese had suddenly been transformed into a fierce, savage people. From one end of Japan to the other a child is considered a sacred thing.
"He is the one who built the devil-wagon and knows all of its secrets. Hertug Persson will torture him to build another." Jason wiped his fingers on the grass and reluctantly stood. "All right gentlemen, let's go. And on the way perhaps someone can tell me just who Hertug Persson is and what is going to happen next." "I'll tell you," Snarbi bragged as they started the march.
It was simply fright." "No like honorable devil-wagon," went on Komatsu steadily. While this low, rapid dialogue was taking place Billie, standing on the front seat of the "Comet" on the lookout for help, saw something that made her blood turn cold. A band of fierce looking young men in Japanese costume was approaching on the run.
Were they all going to be cut to pieces or was only the "Comet" to be sacrificed in revenge for the accident? The Motor Maids exchanged frightened glances. "If I only knew six words in Japanese," thought Billie. "Make honorable quickness to descend, gracious lady. Come, come," Komatsu urged. "To jinriksha. Leave red devil-wagon. This place no good for staying in."
As for the populace celebrating the cherry blossom festival, they evidently regarded the sight of a young woman driving a red devil-wagon as something just short of miraculous. Slowly and at a dignified pace the motor car moved along the avenue, and suddenly like a bolt from the blue two things happened. A little boy escaped from his sister's hand and ran across the road.
"Can't you understand that we are sorry and anxious to help you?" cried Miss Campbell, addressing the mob, but her voice was lost in the subdued threatening murmur which sounded like distant thunder heralding the approach of a storm. "Good heavens, Komatsu, what are we to do? The child might be saved if they would only listen to reason." "People no likee honorable devil-wagon.
It would be such fun, and while the 'rikshas are very nice, we are so separated, we can't all sympathize together as we usually do." "A kind of sympathy in detachments, is it?" asked Mr. Campbell. "But I wanted to go with you on your first ride in the 'Comet. I don't know just how the people will take to a girl's driving a red 'devil-wagon, as they call it." "Why not let Komatsu go along?"
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