finally, "there's only one way we can get away
from here now!"

"What's that?" asks Alex, bendin' down so's Runyon Q. Sampson won't
hear it.

"By freight!" says the mechanic. "It seems to me that one of them rear
axles has gone to work and busted on us."

"Listen to me," says Alex. "Get us away from here right away and
there's ten dollars extry in it for you!"

"Now you're talkin' sense!" says the mechanic. "Gimme a cigarette."

He grabs up the tool box and hides himself under the car again, while
Runyon Q. Sampson begins to fidget around and look at his watch like it
was the first one he ever seen.

Twenty minutes passed, folleyed by thirty more, and still this mechanic
is under the car, makin' sounds like he was fillin' a rush order for
tin pans. Alex is as nervous as a cop makin' his first pinch and our
friend Sampson begins sayin' things about the Gaflooey roadster that
would never of been used by the builders as testimonials. Finally,
Alex whispers to me will I get underneath and see what the world's
champion auto mechanic is doin' to while away the time.

I got out and looked under and--Oh, boy!

This bird is layin' on the ground under the car, readin' a dope book on
the races! He's got the book in one hand and a hammer in the other and
every now and then he reaches back and wallops the dirt pan, without
lookin', so's it'll sound like he's fixin' things up.

"What seems to be the trouble?" I asks him.

"I think Dimpled Dan is like money from home in the first race to-day,"
he says, "provided they--what--what are you doin' here?" he winds up,
droppin' the book.

"Git outa there!" I hollers. "If you're a mechanic, I'm Christopher
Columbus!"

"What d'ye expect for seventy cents an hour--Edison?" he growls.

Runyon Q. Sampson has took it all in and now he lets out a beller and
leaps from the car.

"You infernal idiot!" he bawls at poor Alex. "You've made me miss my
appointment. What do you mean by taking up my time with this travesty
on an automobile? Why, the thing can't even move! If this is the way
it performs when it's fresh from your factory, what can a man expect
when it's a few weeks old?"

"Maybe it ain't ripe enough yet," I butts in, hopin' to save the
situation. "It does look kinda young, don't it?"

"Silence!" roars Runyon Q. "I wouldn't buy one of your cars if they
were selling at three cents a carload! That's final! Don't you dare
come up and bother me again. Get this