"'Sure,' says I, never thinking, 'it's Thursday.'
"He laughed kind of softlike to himself.
"'It's my wedding night, Jimmy,' he says. 'My wedding night, and we're going to celebrate.'
"The light from the fire-box was full on his face, and he had the queerest look you ever saw on a man. He was white and his eyes were staring and he was pushing his hand through his hair and rocking in his seat. I was scart. I thought for a minute he was going to faint, then I remembered that whisky and jumped for my side of the cab, opened the seat and snatched it up. I went back to him with it in my hand. I don't think he ever saw it—I know he didn't. He was laughing that soft laugh again, kind of as though he was crooning, and he reached out his hand and pushed me away.
"'We're going to celebrate, Jimmy,' says he again. 'We're going to celebrate. It's my wedding night.'
"I felt the speed quicken a bit, we were on the Slide then, you know, and I saw his fingers tightening on the throttle. Then it got me, and my heart went into my mouth—Chick was clean off his head. I slipped the flask into my pocket, and tried to coax his hands away from the throttle.
"'Let me take her a spell, Chick,' says I, thinking my best chance was to humor him.
"He threw me off like I was a plaything. Then I tried to pull him away and he smashed me one between the eyes and sent me to the floor. All the time we was going faster and faster. I tackled him again, but I might as well have been a baby, and then—then—
