Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1911-09-19

We'll, you then, Walters. Good
heavens. man! what do you mean
For the burly walters backed away,
actually pale.
"1'll dig potatoes first, sir"
| why, you used to race?"
| mot with Stanton, sir"
There was low murmer OF APP
prevail among his mates, and draw
ing together for support. Stanton
stepped down from his car. snatching
off his mask to show dark, strong
face grim with anger and contempt.
you wretched, backboneless
cowards!" he hurled at them, his blue
black eyes flashing over the group.
"Do you know what I and the company
stand to lose IL I'm disqualified for
lack Of one OF you jellyfish to sit be-
side me and pump oil? Isn't there q
man in the camp? I'll give fifty dol
lars myself to the one who goes,
hundred II win
"1'll promise twice that" eagerly
supplemented Green, the assistant
manager. He had made private bets
on Stanton.
Not one Of the clustered workmen
moved.
Damn you!" pronounced the driver.
bitterly and comprehensively. 'Ill re-
peat that offer. to the man who will go
for the first three hours only, and
meanwhile well send to New York
and find red-blooded male"
The men looked at one another, but
shook their heads.
mo? You won't? You work your
miserable bodies three months to earn
what I offer for three hours. What's
the matter with you, don't risk my
neck?" He turned, sending his power
full voice ringing down the line. Here,
hunt the paddock. all of you-two
hundred dollars for a man to ride the
next three hours with mel"
"You can't take man from an
other camp, Stanton" protested the
frantic Mr.. Green. HE might trick
you, hurt the car"
His appeal went down the wind I'M
racers cleaning eyes.
"He won't trick me-" said Stanton.
= The crowded stands were bulk Of
swaying, seething Impotence. The
paddock was in an uproar, the Mer-
no volunteers answered the call. The
jets of violet flame, headlights and
tail lights shedding vivid illumina.
ton around the figure of its baffled
master. quivered, with impotent life
and strength. Raging. Stanton stood.
watch in hand. his face set study
in scorn.
Suddenly the harsh rasp of the Off
cial klaxon scared above the hubbub,
warning, summoning
-Four minutes" painted the despair
ing assistant manager. Stanton
Some one was running toward them,
some one for whom lane was opened
by the spectators from other camps
who had congregated.
Get aboard called ahead fresh
young voice. Get aboard; I'll CO."
Thank heaven for man! snarled
Stanton, as the runner dashed up.
why, it's boy!
Floyd" Mr. Green hailed hys-
terically. You'll go?"
"1'll CO." assured Floyd. and faced
the driver; slim, youthful figure IN
a mechanics blue overalls. his sleeves
rolled to the elbows and leaving bare
his slender arms; his head. covered
like a girls with soft closely cropped
curling brown hair. tilted back as his
steady gray eyes looked up at Stan
ton.
"You? You couldn't crank taxi
cab" flung the racer brutal with dis
appointment and wrath. You'd go?
A boy?"
I'm as old as the driver Of the
Singer car, and scant five years
younger than you--1m twenty-one.
flashed the .retort. "And I know all
there is about gasoline cars. guess
you're big enough to crank your own
motor, aren't you. If I can't? You've got
thirty seconds left: do you want me?"
Met on his own tone, Stanton
gasped, then caught his mask from
the man who held it. -
why don't you get on your
clothes?" he demanded savagely. Are
you going to race like that? Jump,
you useless towards there-cant you
pass him his things? Telephone the
stand that I'm coming, some one"
There was wild scurry Of prepare
ton. the telephone bell jingled madly.
"Jes Floyd is one Of our new factory
men, hurried Mr.. Green in breathless
explanation, as Stanton took his seat.
He's q gas-engine wonder-he knows
them like a clock-he tuned up this
car you've got, this morning"
The klaxon prayed again. A trim ap-
partition in racing costume darted
from the tent to swing into the mar
row seat beside the driver, and STAN
toms car leaped for the paddock exit
with roar answered by the deafening
roar of welcome from the spectators.
"Seven minutes" snapped the
starter, as the Mercury wheeled in
line.
Stanton shrugged his shoulders with
supreme Indifference, perfectly aware
of his security, since the start had not
been made. But his mechanician
leaned forward with little gurgle OF
irresistible, sunshot laughter.
Don't worry" he besought. Really,
we'll get in seven minutes ahead"
His mocking young voice carried
above the terrific din of the eleven
huge machines, and Stanton turned
upon him, amazed at the audicity.
The starter also stared. Just as flash
light flared UP and showed fully the
Young gray ewes dancing behind the