Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1913-01-24
Copyright lgl2. The BobDs- Merrill Company
CHAPTER I.
The Man Who Dared.


sating roar of the eleven racing ma
chimes lined up before the judges
stand. WHAT"
There was a furry around the cen
trail car, whose driver leaned from his
seat to stare down at the man who
had slipped from beside him to the
ground. The great crowd congesting
the grand-stand pressed closer to the
barrier, staring also, commenting and
conjecturing.
The mechanician of the Mercury ia
off his cart"
Tainted"
Fell"
THE automobiles hadn't started; he
must be sick"
The referee was already pushing his
way back, bringing the report from
the hastily summoned surgeon.
Heart disease" he announced right
and left. "Stantons mechanician Just
dropped off his seat, dead.
But Stanton himself had already
swung out of his car with the ener-
getic decision that marked his every
movement.
My man is out" he tersely stated
to the starter. I've got to run over
to my camp and get another. VIII
you hold the start for me?"
The question was rather a demand
than a request. There was scarcely
one among the vast audience who
would not have felt the sparkle gone
from this strong black wine of sport
they had come to sip, if Ralph Stanton
had been withdrawn from the twenty
four-hour contest. He had not only
fame as a skilful and scientific racer;
he had the reputation of being the
most spectacularly reckless driver in
America, whose death could be but
question Of time and whose record of
accidents and victories verged on the
appalling. He knew his value as an
attraction, and the starter knew it,
although preserving impassivity.
Five minutes" the official con-
coded, and drew out his watch.
Already stream of men were run
ming toward the Mercury camp with
the news. Stanton sprang into his
machine, deity sent it forward out Of
the line, and shot around into the en-
trance to the huge oval field edged by
the Beach track; a mile of white rib
bon bordering green medallion.
The row Of electric-lighted tents,
each numbered and named for its own
racing car, was in turmoil Of excite
ment. But most agitated was the
group before the tent marked 80.
Mercury"
"Durand's down and out--give me
another man." called Stanton, hating
his noisy, flaming car Quick, you--"
But no one stepped forward from
the cluster of factory men and me-
chanics. Only the assistant manager
of the Mercury company responded
to the demand:
Yes, go; one of you boys. I'll make
1t right with you. You, Jones'"
I'm married, sir" refused Jones
succinctly.
We'll, you then, Walters. Good
heavens, man! what do you mean?"
For the burly Walters backed away,
actually pale.
I'll dig potatoes, first, SIR"
why, you used to racer"
mot with Stanton, SIR
There was a low murmur of appro-
val among his mates, and a drawing
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 cow
ards!" he hurled at them, his blue
black eyes flashing over the group.
DO you know what | and the COM
pany stand to lose If I'm disqualified
for lack of one of you jellyfish to sit
beside me and pump oil? Isn't there
man in the camp? I'll give fifty dol
lars myself to the one who goes, a
hundred if win"
'Tll promise twice that" eagerly
supplemented Green, the assistant
manager. He had private beds on
Stanton.
Not one of the clustered workmen
moved
Damn you'll" pronounced the driver,
bitterly and Complementary. "Ill re-
peat that offer to the man who will
go for the first three hours only, and
meanwhile we'll 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 offer for three hours. What's
he matter with you, don't | risk my
eck?" He turned, sending his pow.
full voice ringing down the line
Here, hunt the paddock, all of you