Три товарища

           Inthemeantimethemanatthewheelhadlosthisarrogance;annoyed,lipscompressed,hesatthereleaningforward—theracingfeverhadgothimandnowhiswholelifedependedonnotbeingoutdonebyourlittlemongrel.

           We,ontheotherhand,satapparentlyunmovedinourseats.ForustheBuicksimplydidnotexist.Kösterkepthiseyescalmlyfixedontheroad;Lenz,thoughabundleofexcitement,tookoutanewspaperasifbehadnothingbettertodothanjustread.

           AfewminuteslaterKöstergaveusawink.ImperceptiblyKarlslackenedspeedandtheBuickcameslowlyup.Itsbroadgleamingmudguardsurgedpastus.Theexhaustsentablastofbluesmokeintoourfaces.Littlebylittlehegainedonus—twentyyards—then,aswehadexpected,redandperspiringbuthappy,thefaceoftheownershowedinthewindowandgrinnedopentriumph.Hethoughthehadwon.

           Buthecouldnotleaveitatthat;hecouldnotforgohisrevenge.Hewaveduson—wavednonchalantly,likeavictor.

           "Otto,"saidLenzwarningly.

           Buthehadnoneedtospeak;atthatmomentKarlmadeonebound.Thecompressorshrieked.Andsuddenlythewavinghandatthewindowdisappeared—forKarlhadacceptedtheinvitation;hecame.Hecamesteadily,untilatlastwehadrecoveredthelostground;thenforthefirsttimewetooknoticeofthestranger.Ininnocentinquirywelookedtothemanatthewheel,asiftoaskwhyhehadsignalled.Buthekepthiseyesrigidlyturnedaway;andKarl,thetriumphantguttersnipe,stiffwithdirt,flappingmudguards,drewawayattopspeed.