a half of Dalton's
money. A little more time in which to get on his feet.

But in the meantime here was Dalton--with his money, his motors, and
his masterfulness. And his look of triumph----

In a sudden fierce reaction he sprang to his feet. He stood in the
doorway as if defying the future. "Nobody shall take her away from
me," he said, "she's mine----"

His arms were folded over his chest, his wet black locks almost hid his
eyes. So might some young savage have stood in the long ago, sending
his challenge forth to those same hills.

CHAPTER V

LITTLE SISTER

I

It is one thing, however, to fling a challenge to the hills, and
another to live up to the high moment. Looking at it afterwards in
cold blood, Randy was forced to admit that his chances of beating
George Dalton in a race for Becky were small.

There seemed some slight hope, however, in the fact that Becky was a
Bannister and ought to know a gentleman when she saw one.

"And Dalton's a--a bounder," said Randy to Nellie Custis.

Nellie Custis, who was as blue-blooded as any Bannister, cocked a
sympathetic ear. Cocking an ear with Nellie was a weighty matter. Her
ears were big and unmanageable. When she got them up, she kept them
there for some time. It was a rather intriguing habit, as it gave her
an air of eager attention which wooed confidence.

"He's a bounder," said Randy as if that settled it.

But it did not settle it in the least. A man with an Apollo head may
not be a gentleman under his skin, but how are you to prove it? The
world, spurning Judy O'Grady, sanctions the Colonel's lady, and their
sisterhood becomes socially negligible. Randy should have known that
he could not sweep George Dalton away with a word. Perhaps he did know
it, but he did not care to admit it.

He and Nellie Custis were in the garage. It had once been a barn, but
the boarders had bought cars, so there was now the smell of gasoline
where there had once been the sweet scent of hay. And intermittently
the air was rent with puffs and snorts and shrieks which drowned the
music of that living chorus which has been sung in stables for
centuries.

There were three cars. Two of them have nothing to do with this story,
but the third will play its part, and merits therefore description.

It was not an expensive car, but it was new and shining, and had a
perky snub-nosed air of being ready for anything. It belonged to the
genial gentleman who used