Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1911-09-26
ra/ The GAMEKND THE CAND|

"a! ut! !:4,! s,!hegNM[
Have you injured your arm?"
Mr.. Carlisle had risen, several peo-
pie paused on the sidewalk but Stan
ton stood looking at the girl who
leaned across the folded windshield.
He, automobile expert. racing driver,
had advanced his spark and gone out.
to crank his motor? His reason re-
belled. Yet, what other explanation?
You have injured your arm? Why
was so stupid as to catch the robe
and stop the engine!" Fl
He recovered himself promptly.
mo, no, it is nothing, Miss Carlisle.
I am not hurt" he disclaimed
But nevertheless he started the
engine with his left hand, her narrowed
amber eyes following him.
1t was not far to the Carlisle place.
There Stanton declined every invita-
ton to remain, or even to enter, firmly
resolved to go on to Lowell by the next
train. tt.f
"We will be there tomorrow, ALSO"
Miss Carlisle informed him, in taking
leave. Il am so grieved that you can
not use your arm
You see have used 1t to steer and
shift gears he reminded.
Eyes, but you will not try to race SO
hurt?"
That was what troubled her? The
fear that he would not drive and she
would miss the excitement of seeing
him on the thin verge OF death? Her
beauty went out to his eyes like the
blown flame Of candle.
Il shall race" he declared CURLY.
He had an odd fancy as he went
down the village street; it occurred
to him that he would like to see Floyd.
He was tired, tired to nausea of the
feminine as represented by Valerie
Carlisle. He would have liked to hunt
up his machanician and hear him talk
frank sense, manifestation.
But of course he did nothing of the
kind When he arrived at Lowell he
went to doctor and had the strained
arm cared for, instead.
CHAPTER v.
Floyd was sitting on railing in
front of the repair pits, when Stanton
came out to the course next morning,
engaged in chatting airily with couple
of jovial drivers from rival cars. He
was laughing, and so were the two
men. Clad in correct racing costume,
this time. instead of the imprOmptu
blend of the former occasion. his bright
head tilted back, his gray eyes mirth-
full, Floyd vaguely suggested a certain
charming actress and very practical
Peter Pan who refused to grow up.
Stanton paused in the shadow to sur
yey the group. So Floyd knew the
other men, and was liked by them?
He had not been aware of that; he
had supposed his mechanician to be as
unsocial and unfriend- making as him
self. Amid the mingling sounds Of
cars testing and starting out to prac-
tice runs. of busy wOrkmen and me-
chanics, he could hear little of what
was said but the bursts of laughter
came to him, and as climax he saw
George of the Duplex lean forward and
slap Floyd caressingly on the shoulder.
ell come to your funeral, sweet
child" the big, good-humored driver
chaffed, by way of adieu, his bOisterous
tones carrying above the complex din.
you're too awfully dear to stay in this
hard life"
Flody's reply was inaudible, but he
waited the other a hooking salute, and
there was shout of merriment.
Something fire-hot pierced Stanton;
for the first time in his life he felt the
stab Of jealously. jealousy, not of the
exquisite Valerie Carlisle, not Of some
fellow-driyer's fame, but of his hired
mechanician.
The group, already breaking up,
drew apart at Stanton's approach, nod
ding greeting to him. But, beyond
returning the salutes, he disregarded
all except Floyd, opposite whom he
stopped.
You seem to have nothing to do;
is the machine ready?" he flung, with
his ugliest intonation. ~.
Floyd slipped off the railing and
stood up, his expression Pickering in
mementary surprise.
"All ready" he answered, quietly
businesslike under the undeserved re-
buke
"Get it out, then
The other men glanced significantly
at one another.
Good luck, Floyd" wished slim
Italian driver, whose reputation
equaled Stanton's own, as he turned
away.
The Mercury car was out already.
One. OF the factory men cranked it,
after Stanton took his seat. Floyd
was moving to take the place beside,
when his eyes fell on the drivers
bandaged wrist.
Whats up?" Stanton demanded, at
the exclamation.
"You have hurt your ARM"
Slightly. cranked an Atlanta
Six yesterday with my spark adj
vanced."
The mechanician stopped with one
foot on the car, looking at him.
II set my spark forward and went
around in front and cranked up and
wrenched my arm" Stanton explicitly
repeated.
Floyd regarded him blankly, then
slowly dissolved into smile of humor-
orc noYo prornoncSon and atoppod iDtO