Lincoln County leader. [volume] (Toledo, Lincoln County, Or.) 1893-1987, 1912-12-13
CHAPTER a.

SOAF En- ~
X was a business consultation that
was being held in Mr.. Ffrench's firelit
library, in spite Of the presence Of a
tea table and the young girl behind It.
4 consultation between the two part
ners who composed the Mercury Au-
tomobile company. Of whom the lesser
was speaking with certain anecdotal
weight.
"And he said he was losing too
much time on the turns; SO the next
round he took the bend at 72 miles
IN hour. He went over. Of course
The third car we've lost this year; I'm
glad the seasons closed"
Emily Ffrench gave an exclamation,
her velvet eyes widening behind their
black lashes.
But the driver! Was the poor
driver hurt. Mr.. Bailey?"
HE wasn't killed, Miss Emily" an
swered Bailey, with tinge Of pensive
regret He was large, ruddy, white
haired man, with the slow and care
ful habit Of speech sometimes found
in those who live much with massive
machinery. mo, he wasn't killed; he's
in the hospital But he wrecked as
good car as ever was built, through
sheer foolishness. 1t costs money"
Mr.. Ffrench responded to the indi-
rect appeal with more than usual irri-
tation. his level gray eyebrows con-
tracing
I'VE ought to have better drivers.
Why do you not get better men, Bal
Icy? You wanted to go into this rae
ing business; you said the cars need
ed advertising. My brother always at
tended to that side Of the factory af-
fairs while he lived, with you as his
manager. Now it is altogether in your
hands. Why do you not find a proper
driver"
Perhaps my hands are not used
to holding so much" mused Bailey un-
resentfully. "A man might be a good
manager, maybe, and weak as a part
ner. 1t isn't the same job. But
first-class driver isn't easy to get, Mr..
Ffrench. There's Delmar killed, and
George tied up with. another company,
and Dorian retired, all this last sea-
son; and we don't want foreigner.
There's only one man like"
We'll. get him. Pay him enough"
Bailey hunched himself together
together and crossed his legs.
"Yes, sir. He's beaten our cars
and others-every race lately, with
poorer machines. Just by sheer pretty
driving. He drives fast. yet he don't
knock out his car. But there's q lot
after him-there's Just one way wa
could get him, and get him for keeps"
"And that?"
Hes ambitious. He wants to get
into something more solid than rae
ing. II we offered to make him man.
ager, he'd come and put some new
ideas. maybe, into the factory, and
race our cars wherever we chose to
enter them. know him pretty we'll"
The proposition was advanced tenta-
lively, with the hesitation of one ven
turing in unknown places. But Ethan
Ffrench said nothing. his gray eyes
nxeQ on the neartn.
HE understands motor construc-
ton and designing. and he's been with
big foreign firms" Bailey resumed,
after waiting. He'd be useful around;
I can't be everywhere. What he'd do
for US in racing would help whole
lot It's very well to make a fine
standard car, but 1t needs advertising
to keep people remembering. And
men like to say my machine is the
same as Lestrange won the cup race
with They like it."
II don't know" said Mr.. Ffrench
slowly, A"that 1t is dignified for the
manager Of the Mercury factory to
be a racing driver"
"The Christine cars are driven by
the son Of the man who makes them"
was the response. Some drive their
own"
"The son Of the man who makes
them," repeated the other He turned
his face still more to the quivering
fire, his always severe expression
hardening strangely and bitterly. "The
SON." p A3+l9a
The girl rose to draw the crimson
curtains before the windows and to
push an electric switch. Cling the
room with subdued glow In place of
the late afternoon grayness. Her deli
cate face, as she regarded her uncle.
revealed most strongly M characters
d IT