The interposition broke in stormily.  Down the grade from the upper mesa level came a touring-car, with a big man at the wheel, a veiled woman beside him, and three men in the tonneau.  “Holy smoke!” said the outlaw, and with his riding mate was slipping away up the Shonoho road when the touring-car, with brakes protesting, came to a stand at the tree barrier.  Like a flash, two of the three men in the tonneau leaped out, and a charge of buckshot whistling over the heads of the two obstructionists halted them.  Thereupon the Honorable David gave his orders tersely.

“Tennessee, you go up yonder and argue with Jack Barto a spell,” he directed.  “Tell him and his partner that the Wartrace smoke-house is the safest place in Quaretaro County for a couple of club-witted bunglers like they are, and then you see to it that they get there.  You, Billy, help Rickert get a tow-rope hitch on that road-car, and we’ll see if we can’t jerk it out of the way.”  After which he turned to his son as casually as if only the preconceived and preconcerted had come to pass:  “Tried to wreck you, did they?  Mighty near made a job of it, too, from the looks of Miss Patty’s little car.  Not hurt, are you?  That’s good.  Climb in here, both of you, and when we get this windfall out of the road we’ll go on to town.”

Blount put Patricia into the empty tonneau while Shack and the chauffeur were making the tow-rope hitch, but he was still angry enough to hesitate when it came his turn.  A glance at his watch decided him.  It was still only half past four.  Had his father repented so far as to override the obstacle which he himself had interposed?  Patricia was holding the tonneau-door open, and Blount got in and took his seat beside her.

A small engineering feat, made possible by the power plant of the big car and the tow-rope, soon cleared the way of the wrecked roadster and the tree.  Then the senator gave another order.

“You and Billy stay here and see if you can’t get that roadster so you can run it to town on its own power,” he said to the chauffeur; and over his shoulder to the pair behind him:  “If you’ll change partners back there, and let Honoria ride on the cushions—­”

Though he could not remotely apprehend his father’s reason for the rearrangement, Blount got out, helped Mrs. Honoria down and up again, and then climbed into the seat she had just vacated.  At the click of the tonneau door-latch the big car rolled on down the grade, and for a good half of the straightaway fifteen miles to the city the younger man held his peace grimly.  Finally he turned to his father and said: 

“I’m blaming you for the tree, and for Barto’s attempt to get those papers away from me.  Am I wrong?”

The Honorable David shook his head.

“This close to an election you’re mighty near safe in blaming anybody and everybody in sight, son,” he returned gravely; and apart from this small break in the monotony, the second half of the fifteen miles went speechless.