Democratic messenger., 1903-09-12
GRINGE AND
THE SPITFIRE
By JOHN WALKER
HARRINGTON
Copyright, 1908, by T. C. Mcclure


At the bidding of two bells Captain
Gringe let go the brake of the Spitfire
and gave the controller three notches
The tractable trolley car sped down an
avenue half street and half country
road and bore toward Yonkers. eight
miles away in the darkness. Gringe
had been the master of n coastwise
steamer until the vessel had grounded
while the junior officer was on the bridge
and the captain was below slowing
away a ballast of sausage and buck
wheat cakes. The company never for
gave Grlnge and the other soulless cor
porations which had steamships re-
fused to employ him. Therefore he
was on the bow of car No. 3S of the
Huckleberry Street railway, craft
which on account of its way of con-
stantly blowing out It's fuse he called
the Spitfire
See here. motorman." demanded a
man in fur overcoat who abruptly
opened the front door, ''cau you go
faster:"
Gringe craned his neck around the
ample form and looked into the car
Then he wound the vehicle to stand
still.
Where is the CONDUCTOR he asked.
Didn't know you had 'em on the
Huckleberry." snapped out the fat pas
senger. What the blazes do you mean
by stopping:"
I'VE will wait for the skipper just
the same" Gringe replied. you had
no call to give me the bells"
You needn't get redheaded," re-
Joined the fat passenger. You and ]
have the car all to ourselves, and you
might listen to reason. Do you see
those two lights down the road there?
I was more ahead of them than | am
now. Those lights belong to the red
dest automobile driven by the meanest
man between here and Sing Sing. The
bet we had was that | could beat him
TO Getty square in Yonkers. Got along
all right until crossed the dam. then
my machine went out of commission"
i've had engine rooms wrecked In
my time" rcjoiucd Gringc. ''Sit down.
and when the conductor comes
THE conductor exclaimed the fat
passenger. growing purplish In com
plexion. Man. want this car to
take me to Getty square ahead of that
red devil. Fifty dollars If you do 1t.
and here is ten down. You look as
Though You might have some sporting
blood"
''Stow your breathr' snapped
Gringc II raced to Sandy Hook be-
fore you We're born
The brake handle of the Spitfire
spun into disk of shining metal. and
a braZen finger ratified over the face
or the controlIer DoX. Along lne raIIs
the Spitfire sang. An odor of gasoline
crept into the mir. and then there was
heard the measured chug. chug of a
Panhard. The automobile hove in sight
and gained slowly upon the car. Two
figures in the tonneau body with de-
risive laughter disturbed the placid
places OF the Bronx.
congratulations on your machine"
said goggled disiigured man who
was bending over n bundle of wheels
and levers. we will wait an hour for
you at the hotel"
Say nothing. matey." growled the
motorman. stand by to give hand
with the brake. If anything gets on
the track the two of us might save
killing"
Over wet rails the Spitfire sputtered
and buzzed. aided by profanity and
sand.
"The red devil" said the fat passen-
ger. lis supposed to clip off sixty miles
an hour looked her over. and | was
sure that she couldn't make ten to save
her tires. What's your speed. cap
tain:"
"Never tried II with patent log" re-
Joined Gringe. "Warnt no use. any
way. with so many ports of call. Under
forced draft. though. we might make
fourteen knots or more. I'm curious
about it,
"CuriouS,' growlcd the fat passenger.
Curious, Well. it's more than n mat
ter of curiosity with me. Whoop her
up
The Snitfire tossed its lender as ''t'o