Hank had an eye to the main chance and boasted: "If the public gits ahead of me it's got to be up and a-comin'." The road along which Crandall was driving did not lead to Hank's place, but the river road, which branched off a little farther on, went by the brewery, though it was a longer way around.

The men grew silent at last, and the steady roll and rumble of the wagon over the smooth road was soothing, and John laid his head in Lime's lap and fell asleep while looking at the moon and wondering why it always seemed to go just as fast as the team.
He was awakened by a series of wild yells, the snapping of whips and the furious rush of horses.

It was another team filled with harvesters trying to pass, and not succeeding.

The fellows in the other wagon hooted and howled and cracked the whip, but Al's little bays kept them behind until Lime protested, "Oh, let 'em go, Al," and then with a shout of glee the team went by and left them in a cloud of dust.
"Say, boys," said Bill, "that was Pat Sheehan and the Nagle boys.
They've turned off; they're goin' down to Hank's.

Let's go too.