Putnam patriot., 1912-01-12
CHAPTER VIII.

Six o'clock was the houT set TOT the start of the Beach race. And 1t was just seventeen minutes past five when Dick French, hanging in frenzy of anxiety over the paddock fence circling the inside of the mile oval. uttered something resembling a howl and rushed to the gate to signal his recreant driver. From the oppo- site side of the track Lestrange waved gay return, making his way through the officials and friends who pressed around him to shake hands or slap his shoulder caressingly. testing and questioning, calling directions and ad- vice. brass band played noisily in the grand-stand. where the crowd heaved and surged; the racing ma chimes were roaring in their camps.
 What's the matter? Where were you?" cried Dick, when at last Le- strange crossed the course to the cen tral field. "The cars are going out now for the preliminary run. Rupert's nearly crazy, snarling at everybody. and the other man has been getting ready to start instead of you"
 Well. he can get unready." smiled Lestrange. Keep cool, Ffrench; I've got half an hour and I could start now. I'm ready"
 He was ready: clad in the close-fit- ting khaki costume whose immaculate | daintiness gave no hint of the cer- l tainty that before the first six hours hn Of u dust and oil. As he paused in run ming an appraising glance down the street.-The row of tents, the white clothed driver of a spotless white car shot out on his way to the track, but halted opposite the latest arrival to stretch a cordial hand.
 T hoped a trolley car had bitten you" he shouted. "The rest of us would have more show If you got lost on the way, Darling"
 The boyish driver at the next tent looked up as they passed. and came grinning over to give his clasp.
 Get a move on; what you been do- in all day, dear child? They've been givin' your manager sal volatile to hold him still" He nodded at the agi- tated Dick in ironic commiseration. 1 "Go get out your car. Darling: want to beat you" chaffed the next in line.
 "Strike up the band, here comes a driver,'" sang another. with an en' trancing French accent.
 Laughing, retorting, shaking hands with each comrade rival. Lestrange went down the row to his own tent At his approach a swarm of mechanics from the factory stood back from the long, low. gray car, the driver who was to relieve him during the night and day ordeal slipped down from the seat and unmasked.
 Hes here" announced Dick super f1uously. "Rupert-where's Rupert Don't tell me he's gone now! Le strange"
 But Rupert was already emerging 1 from the tent with Lestranges gaunt lets and cap, his expression study ! in the sardonic.
 ''It hurts me fierce to think how you must have hurried" he observed Did you walk both ways. or only all three? I'm no Eve, but I'd give a snake an apple to know where you've been all day"
 Would you?" queried Lestrange provokingly. clasping the goggles be | fore his eyes. well, I've spent the ! last two hours on the Coney Island 1 beach about three squares from here watching the kiddies play in the sand I didn't feel like driving just then. II was mighty soothing, too."
 Rupert stared at him, a dry un willing smile slowly crinkling his dark | face.
 Maybe, Darling" he drawled, and turned to make his own preparations.
 Fascinated and useless, Dick looked on at the methodical furry of the next 1 few moments; until Lestrange was in his seat and Rupert swung in beside him. Then a gesture summoned him i to the side of the machine. Gro Be Continued)