Untitled - Beeldbibliotheek

io8CARAVAN DAYSwithin reach that were equal to it, and he did notwant to be held up for the week-end.Well !I must ask you to reflect not upon thethings I have said, or may still have to say, aboutmotorists in this narrative, but on the thingsthe horribly vituperative thingsthat in nearlyevery chapter I have left unsaid. I thought ofthat longlist. I thought of the helpless Sam,heaving and scrambling in the streets of Hawick.And now I was to be called upon to heap coalsof fire. There is nothing, in reality, that I likebetter to see than a motor-car in a cabbage patch.. . .Yes, Mr. Smith would send up his horses atonce.The car was lying down a steep bank, eight orten feet below the road, and on the very edge ofthe loch.So near, in fact, that I could but reflectthat one hearty shove when no one was looking... It had carried away many feet of the dykeas it went over, and the whole of the bank aboveit was deep in scattered stones, so that Sam andSimon could get no proper foothold at all. Andit was already growing dark. Some eight or tenmen had been assembled and were busily at work,lifting the wheels out of their deep troughs,removing cabbages and affixing ropes. At thefirstattempt the rope broke, and at the second,