Listen, why don't you and maybe Joe
and Al come down and give me a hand after school? I'll never get on top
here without some help. After we get these police and other priority
cars out of the way, maybe we can get a quick look at what's wrong with
yours."

"It's a deal."

Joe Walton wasn't much in favor of spending that afternoon and an
unknown number of others in Art's garage; he was too overwhelmed by the
idea of analyzing the material of the comet's tail. However Art had done
all of them too many favors in the past to ignore his call for help.

"The trouble with this town," Joe said, "is that three-fourths of the
so-called automobiles running around the streets belong down at
Thompson's Auto Wrecking."

Al Miner agreed to come, too. When they reached the garage after school
they saw Art had not been exaggerating. His place was surrounded by
stalled cars, and the street outside was lined with them in both
directions. Ken borrowed the tow truck and brought his own car back from
the Larsens'. By that time the other two boys were at work.

"Batteries are all okay," Art told him. "Some of these engines will turn
over, but most of them won't budge. I've jerked a couple of heads, but
I can't see anything. I want you to take the pans off and take down the
bearings to see if they're frozen. That's what they act like. When
that's done, we'll take it from there."

Ken hoisted the front end of one of the police cars and slid under it on
a creeper. Art's electric impact wrenches were all in use, so he began
the laborious removal of the pan bolts by hand. He had scarcely started
when he heard a yell from Joe who was beneath the other police car.

"What's the matter?" Art called.

"Come here! Look at this!"

The others crowded around, peering under the car. Joe banged and pried
at one of the bearings, still clinging to the crankshaft after the cap
had been removed.

"Don't do that!" Art shouted at him. "You'll jimmy up the crankshaft!"

"Mr. Matthews," Joe said solemnly, "this here crankshaft has been
jimmied up just as much as it's ever going to get jimmied. These
bearings are welded solid. They'll have to be machined off!"

"Nothing could freeze them to the shaft that hard," Art exclaimed.

Joe moved out of the way. Art crawled under and tapped the bearing. He
pried at it with a chisel. Then he applied a cold chisel and pounded.
The bearing metal came away chip by chip, but the bulk of it clung to
the shaft as if