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"Oh, I don't know. Any old way does so long as you make it."

Hank took up the thread again.

"There's one advantage," said he, "in taking it in the neck, for when you are looking ahead, punching the breeze, there is an awful tendency to jump forward to try to grab the world as it goes under you. When it's running away from you, instead of rushing at you and passing under, it doesn't have that effect."

I tried to look as though a little thing like that would not upset me.

"Gee!" exclaimed Slim. "Once when I was riding facing, punching the breeze, a rod broke loose in front of me—one of them other brace-rods he was telling you about—and it hit the roadway all the time, and every time it hit it shot up a cinder or a rock, or something. I got the dust and pebbles down inside my shirt and in my pockets, and I was all cut and bleeding from the rocks and all when she stopped, and I rolled off. You know, my inside breast pocket, even," and he tapped his chest, "was plumb full of little stones."