For that matter, he was likely to land in jail, anyway, before he was done with Foster, unless he did some pretty close figuring.

Wherefore he drove with one part of his brain, and with the other he figured upon how he was going to get out of the mess himself--and land Foster and Mert deep in the middle of it.

For such was his vengeful desire.
After an hour or so, when his stomach began to hint that it was eating time for healthy men, he slowed down and turned his head toward the tonneau.

There they were, hunched down under the robe, their heads drawn into their collars like two turtles half asleep on a mud bank.
"Say, how about some lunch ?" he demanded.

"Maybe you fellows can get along on whisky and sandwiches, but I'm doing the work; and if you notice, I've been doing it for about twelve hours now without any let-up.