"That leaves me six bits," he growled, as the big man dropped something into his coat pocket.

"You might give me back ten, anyway." "Couldn't possibly.

I have to have something to square myself with if this leaks out.

Just back up, till you can get around my car.

Turn to the left where the sand ain't so deep and you ain't likely to run over the booze." With the big man still standing at his shoulder on the running board, Casey Ryan did what he had rashly declared he never would do; he backed the Ford, turned it to the left as he had been commanded to do, and drove around the other car.