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Alfred smiled pityingly.

“Ain’t I tellin’ yer,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand if I didn’t tell yer how he got the car and all that. So here’s Henery,” he went on, “with old John Bull goin’ about in the fastest car in Australia, and old John, he’s a quiet old geezer, that wouldn’t drive faster than the regulations for anything, and that short-sighted he can’t see to the side of the road. So what does Henery do?He fixes up th
e speed-indicator—puts a new face on it, so that when the car is doing thirty, the indicator only shows fifteen, and twenty for forty, and so on. So out they’d go, and if Henery knew there was a big car in front of him, he’d let out to forty-five, and the pace would very near blow the whiskers off old John; and every now and again he’d look at the indicator, and it’d be showin’ twenty-two and a half, and he’d say:

“‘Better be careful, Henery, you’re slightly exceedin’ the speed limit; twenty miles an hour, you know, Henery, should be fast enough for anybody, and you’re doing over twenty-two. ’

“Well, one day, Henery told me, he was tryin’ to catch up a big car that just came out from France, and it had a half-hour start of him, and he was just fairly flyin’, and there was a lot of cars on the road, and he flies past ’em so fast the old man says, ‘It’s very strange, Henery,’ he says, ‘that all the cars that are out to-day are comin’ this way,’ he says. You see he was passin’ ’em so fast he thought they were all comin’ towards him.

“And Henery sees a mate of his comin’, so he lets out a notch or two, and the two cars flew by each other like chain lightnin’. They were each doin’ about forty, and the old man, he says, ‘There’s a driver must be travellin’ a hundred miles an hour,’ he says. ‘I never see a car go by so fast in my life,’ he says. ‘If I could find out who he is, I’d report him,’ he says. ‘Did you know the car, Henery?’ But of course Henery, he doesn’t know, so on they goes.

“The owner of the big French car thinks he has the fastest car in Australia, and when he sees Henery and the old man coming, he tells his driver to let her out a little; but Henery gives the ninety-horse the full of the lever, and whips up alongside in one jump. And then he keeps there just half a length ahead of him, tormentin’ him like. And the owner of the French car he yells out to old John Bull, ‘You’re going a nice pace for an old ’un,’ he says. Old John has a blink down at the indicator. ‘We’re doing twenty-five,’ he yells out. ‘Twenty-five grandmothers,’ says the bloke; but Henery he put on his accelerator, and left him. It wouldn’t do to let the old man get wise to it, you know. ”

We topped a big hill, and Alfred cut off the engine and let the car swoop, as swiftly and noiselessly as an eagle, down to the flat country below.

“You’re a long while coming to the elephant, Alfred,” I said.

“Well, now, I’ll tell you about the elephant,” said Alfred, letting his clutch in again, and taking up the story to the accompaniment of the rhythmic throb of the engine.

“One day Henery and the old man were going out a long trip over the mountain, and down the Kangaroo Valley Road that’s all cut out of the side of the ’ill. And after they’s gone a mile or two, Henery sees a track in the road—the track of the biggest car he ever seen or ’eard of. An’ the more he looks at it, the more he reckons he must ketch that car and see what she’s made of. So he slows down passin’ two yokels on the road, and he says, ‘Did you see a big car along ’ere?’