"She's runnin' like a wolf--but she ain't goin'!" He waited for a minute longer, trifling with the gas, staring and listening.

The car was shaking with the throb of the motor, but Casey could feel no forward motion.

"Settin' here burnin' gas like a 'lection bonfire--she sure _would_ think I'm drunk if she knowed it," Casey muttered, and straddled over the side of the car to the running board.
"I wish--to--_hell_ I hadn't promised her not to cuss!" he gritted, and with one hand still on the wheel, Casey shut off the gas and stepped down.
He stepped down upon a surface sliding beneath him at the rate of close to forty miles an hour.

The Ford went on, spinning away from him in a wide circle, since Casey had unconsciously turned the wheel to the left as he let go.

The blow of meeting the hard clay stunned him just at first, and he had rolled over a couple of times before he began to regain his senses.
He lifted himself groggily to his knees and looked for the car, saw it bearing down upon him from the direction whence he had come.