The daily Alaskan., 1908-11-19
By GRANT OWEN.

pOlul lS
 She paused: her brows drew together in a little frown; her fingers toyed nervously with bit of wisteria she had broken from the vine that cov- cred the porch.
 q wanted you to be in tito go over the course. That would be sufficient" " she finished,
 'I see," he said You wanted me to dlsproye these stories that are going the rounds about my lack of nerve. Is that it?'
 Yes" she said again.
 He drew himself up. His shoulders were squared. His attitude was that of Q man summoning to his aid all his moral courage.
 "The stories they have told you are quite correct" he sah, somewhat husiily.
 "Ohm she said, and in her voice there was something of pain and some thing, too, of weariness, as if she had been expecting this very thing and yet was unwilling, even in her pre- paredness, to heQr 1t.
 "They are perfectly right in what they say of me-" he went on calmly. q have lost my nerve. There's noth- Ing would tempt me to take up road racing again"
 "Nothlng?" she questioned.
 Nothing" he repeated inexorably. "I am not in the habit of offering an explanation nor any excuses for my position lu the matter. But would like you to know the circumstances. Would you care to listen to themY
 If you choose to tell me-" she said duly.
 "You remember that race three years ago over the Meadow island course| said be. Well, 1t was then 1t hap. pened. Stanley was with me. He and I hsd a good lead. We were tearing past the curve at the old church, let ting out the car for all there was in her. As we swung that turn I saw q child just in front Of us not twenty feet away, 1t seemed.
 How she got past the ropes that held the crowd back l can't say, but there she was right In the course and not a ghost of show apparently of escaping us. I don't know to this day what saved her. I only know there was a great gasplng sigh from Stanley and groan from the crowd. l tried to swing out for her. but there was so little time. Anyway, 1t was some sort of a special Providence that saved her. We shot past her, so close that I shut my eyes,"
 The girl saw nervous tremor shake the big shoulders. Her eyes narrowed.
 But the child wasn't hurt you say" she asked
 Not in the least. But those few sec onds were enough for me. I couldn't stand them again. That Is why I am out of the game-a Qultter if you choose to put 1t that way"
 The girl said nothing She sat look ing out at the sparkling lake with trou- bled eyes.
 At length Graham arose.
 q don't blame you in the least for thinking of me as you do," said he, "nor for being disappointed. Goodby."
 He slid from the rail and went down the steps to the big road car standing in the driveway. He had pulled on his gauntlets and was just climbing Into the car when around the corner of the boathouse came a-wild eyed, dishev- eled gardener from one of the houses down the street.
 '"NIr Graham, sir" he panted, twill you be gettin the doctor, quick! Tim Comley's fell from the stagln' on the stables where they're palntln an he's hurted bad, sir Iris dead he'll be in ten minutes if the doctors not fetched before that. Hurry! For Gods sake, hurryw
 I'll have him here in i've" Graham called, and opened up the big car.
 It sprang forward like Q thing alive and went tearing down tue driveway ln q great cloud of dust.
 Margaret, who had run to the edge of the veranda, saw him swing Into the roadway beyond, and the drifting dust which rose high above the poplars told of the terrific pace he was setting.
 It was four minutes later, after a nervous pacing of the yeranda, that she heard the whir of the approaching ear again. She ran down the steps and hurried along the drive to the roadway. Up the hill, with honking horn, came a dull, black streak. She could see Graham bending low oyer