“Them was the last rememberable words said by me durin’ the next quarter of an hour.  That shover man let out a hair-raisin’ yell, hauled the nickel marlinespike over in its rack, and squeezed a rubber bag that was spliced to the steerin’ wheel.  There was a half dozen toots or howls or honks from under our bows somewheres, and then that automobile hopped off the ground and commenced to fly.  The fust hop landed me on my knees in the cockpit, and there I stayed.  ‘Twas the most fittin’ position fur my frame of mind and chimed in fust-rate with the general religious drift of my thoughts.

“The Cut-through is two mile or more from Herrin’ Neck.  ‘Cordin’ to my count we hit terra cotta just three times in them two miles.  The fust hit knocked my hat off.  The second one chucked me up so high I looked back for the hat, and though we was a half mile away from it, it hadn’t had time to git to the ground.  And all the while the horn was a-honkin’, and Billings was a-screechin, and the sand was a-flyin’.  Sand!  Why, say!  Do you see that extra bald place on the back of my head?  Yes?  Well, there was a two-inch thatch of hair there afore that sand blast ground it off.

“When I went up on the third jounce I noticed the Cut-through just ahead.  Billings see it, too, and—­would you b’lieve it?—­the lunatic stood up, let go of the wheel with one hand, takes off his hat and waves it, and we charge down across them wet tide flats like death on the woolly horse, in Scriptur’.

“‘Hi, yah!  Yip!’ whoops Billings.  ’Come on in, fellers!  The water’s fine!  Yow!  Y-e-e-e!  Yip!’

“For a second it left off rainin’ sand, and there was a typhoon of mud and spray.  I see a million of the prettiest rainbows—­that is, I cal’lated there was a million; it’s awful hard to count when you’re bouncin’ and prayin’ and drowndin’ all to once.  Then we sizzed out of the channel, over the flats on t’other side, and on toward Setuckit.

“Never mind the rest of the ride.  ‘Twas all a sort of constant changin’ sameness.  I remember passin’ a blurred life-savin’ station, with three—­or maybe thirty—­blurred men jumpin’ and laughin’ and hollerin’.  I found out afterwards that they’d been on the lookout for the bombshell for half an hour.  Billings had told around town what he was goin’ to do to me, and some kind friend had telephoned it to the station.  So the life-savers was full of anticipations.  I hope they were satisfied.  I hadn’t rehearsed my part of the show none, but I feel what the parson calls a consciousness of havin’ done my best.

“‘Whoa, gal!’ says Billings, calm and easy, puttin’ the helm hard down.  The auto was standin’ still at last.  Part of me was hangin’ over the lee rail.  I could see out of the part, so I knew ’twas my head.  And there alongside was my fish shanty at the P’int, goin’ round and round in circles.

“I undid the hatch of the cockpit and fell out on the sand.  Then I scrambled up and caught hold of the shanty as it went past me.  That fool shover watched me, seemin’ly interested.