Putnam patriot., 1912-07-19
went to q doctor anu a. arm cared for, instead.
CHAPTER V.
Tunlna un.

Tuning Up.
 Floyd was sitting on a railing in front of the repair pits. when Stanton came out 10 the course next morning, engaged in chatting airily with cou- pie 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 tAe former occasion. his bright head tilted back. his gray eyes mirthful. Floyd vaguely suggested a certain charming actress and very practical Peter Pan who refused to grOw up.
 Stanton paused in the shadow to survey the group. So Floyd knew the
 other men. and was liked by them? He had not been aware of that; he had supposed his mechanieian to be as unsocial and unfriend-making as him self Amid the minging sounds of 1 cars testing and starting out on prac- tiee runs. of busy workmen and me ehanics. he could hear little of what was said but the bursts of laughter came to him, and as climax he saw 1 George Of the Duplex lean forward and slap Floyd earessingly on the shoulder.
 "Tll come to your funeral, sweet child,' the big. good-humored driver chaffed. by way of adieu. his bolster ous tones carrying above the complex din You're too awfully dear to stay in this hard life Floyd's reply was inaudible. but he waited the other a moeking salute, and there was a shout of merriment. Something fire-hot pierced Stanton; for the first time in his life he felt the stab of jealousy. Jealousy. not of the exquisite Valerie Carlisle. not of some fellow-driver's fame, but of his hired mechanician.
 The group, already breaking up, drew apart at Stanton's approach. nodding 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 flickering in momentary surprise. "All ready" he answered, quietly businesslike under the undeseryed re- huke
 Get it out, then"
 The other men glanced significantly at one another.
 Good luck, Floyd" wished a 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 1t, after Stanton took his seat Floyd was i moving to take the place beside, when i his eyes fell on the drivers bandaged wrist.
 What's up?" Stanton demanded, at the exclamation. "You have hurt your arm?" Slightly. | cranked an Atalanta ESix yesterday with my spark ad- kyanced."
 The mechanician stopped with one foot on the car, looking at him.
 "I set my spark forward and went Earound in front and eranked up and wrenched my arm," Stanton explicitly hTepeated.
 sFloyd regarded him blankly. then slowly dissolved into smile Of hu- morous comprehension and stepped into the car.
 q had no right to ask, of course,' he agreed. "I beg your pardon Curious people should expect to hear nonsense"
 Floyd believed himself put off with an obvious tale, as one reproyes too-importunate child, so impossible he considered such carelessness. And Stanton wholly coincided with his judgment Only. the fact remained.
 The little episode had relieved the atmosphere, however, and restored naturalness of speech. They shot down the course in the sweet country air, and the days work had commenced Then Stanton had his first exhibition of what Floyd called tuning up his motor.
 .stGot her all the way up?" shouted 
 the lmechanician, when they let out on the first straight stretch. Stanton nodded, fully occupied; the speedometer was indicating eighty four miles an hour. Stop her--sbe needs fixing" It was Floyd,s hour of empire. Stan ton brought his car to a halt in an ap- propriate situation, and the mechani- elan sprang out to investigate the un- hooded p@wer-plant Now we'll try. She is good for ninety an hour" he panted. returning.
 Stanton accordingly Testarted.
 They spent the morning so speed ing furiously, stopping for Floyd to fuss with one thing or another, watch ing the speedometer. Floyd listened to the engine as to a speaking voice, translating it's plaint unersingly and going to remedy the cause. As the as- sistant manager bad said, be was a gasolene freak, -ciairvoyant magician of delicate touches and manipulation. At twelve o'clock the Mercury came to its camp and stopped.
 ~How is she doing." inquired MT. Green. You made that last circuit a record breakeg. l can tel you"
 Up to niney-two miles an hour" Stanton reported with bneyity. Tt never did so well before. Get out, Floyd
 Floyd got out, flushed, tired. his heavy hair elinging in damp rings to his temples, but sunnily content Mir. Green contemplated him anxiously; he had heard an account of Stanton's