."

It was not many times that the cars could circle the track. Quarter of
six blew from whistles and klaxons, signal flags sent the cars to
their camps for the last time before the race.

"Come here," Lestrange beckoned to Dick, as he brought his machine
shuddering to a standstill before the tent. "Here, close--we've got a
moment while they fill tanks."

He unhooked his goggles and leaned over as Dick came beside the wheel,
the face so revealed bright and quiet in the sunset glow of color.

"One never knows what may happen," he said. "I'd rather tell you now
than chance your feeling afterward that I didn't treat you quite
squarely in keeping still. I hope you won't take it as my father did;
we've been good chums, you and I. I'm your cousin, David Ffrench."

The moment furnished no words. Dick leaned against the car, absolutely
limp.

"Of course, I'm not going back to Ffrenchwood. After this race I shall
go to the Duplex Company; I used to be with them and they've wanted me
back. Your company can get along without me, now all is running
well--indeed, Mr. Ffrench has dismissed me." His firm lip bent a
little more firmly. "The work I was doing is in your hands and
Bailey's; see it through. Unless you too want to break off with me,
we'll have more time to talk over this."

"Break off!" Dick straightened his chubby figure. "Break off with you,
Les--"

"Go on. My name is Lestrange now and always."

A shriek from the official klaxon summoned the racers, Rupert swung
back to his seat. Dick reached up his hand to the other in the first
really dignified moment of his life.

"I'm glad you're my kin, Lestrange," he said. "I've liked you anyhow,
but I'm glad, just the same. And I don't care what rot they say of
you. Take care of yourself."

Lestrange bared his hand to return the clasp, his warm smile flashing
to his cousin; then the swirl of preparation swept between them and
Dick next saw him as a part of one of the throbbing, flaming row of
machines before the judges' stand.

It was not a tranquilizing experience for an amateur to witness the
start, when the fourteen powerful cars sprang simultaneously for the
first curve, struggling for possession of the narrow track in a wheel
to wheel contest where one mistouch meant the wreck of many. After
that first view, Dick sat weakly down on an oil barrel and watched the
race in a state of fascinated endurance.

The golden and violet sunset melted pearl-like into the bl