Bud laid an arm along the back of his seat and waited, his head turned toward them.

"Where are you fellows going, anyway ?" he asked impatiently.
"Los An--" the stranger gurgled, still drinking.
"Yuma!" snapped Foster.

"You shut up, Mert.

I'm running this." "Better--" "Yuma.

You hit the shortest trail for Yuma, Bud.