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But the public who had possibly already seen beautiful Stackport for themselves, or who, maybe, were withheld by the lack of the necessary dollar the public, jostling past in an intermittent stream, and coy as always in the investment of its cash, disregarded the allurements of the Despardoux, and scarcely deigned even to look its way.
A few of its members, however, of a chatty and mechanical turn, were willing to volunteer a vast deal of random conversation with less than no encouragement; but the man with the dollar, the man who desired to see beautiful Stackport, the man who thirsted for a two hours' ride children half-price was yet to come. Grace Sinclair had waited an hour.
"It holds five, you know, and I'm going every day to the I.B.&Q. depot and take passengers. Hang out a little card: Beautiful Stackport, Two Hours' Ride for One Dollar; Children Half-Price!" "No chauffeur?" asked Coal Oil Johnny. "Of course not. In that case it would be the money he earned not mine!" "I don't think I'd do that," said Coal Oil Johnny.
The pair of them laid on to the spokes of the driving-wheels, and with a yeo-heave-yeo managed to head the Despardoux in the direction of its native Stackport. Then the farmer settled to work again, Grace scurried about searching for ammunition, and the three young touts rained shower on shower of stones.
"One had his leg broke, and the others were scratched something awful but perhaps they weren't careful!" "Say, we want to see beautiful Stackport," said one of the touts, clambering into the front seat beside Grace. "Get out of that and give your place to a handsomer man," cried another, trying to pull him out by the legs.
At the side of the car, neatly pinned to one of the long rawhide baskets, was the following invitation to the public: BEAUTIFUL STACKPORT TWO HOURS' RIDE FOR $1 CHILDREN 1/2 PRICE
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