ed backward
until the rear wheels came full against a hump across the road and held.

Bud did not say anything; your efficient chauffeur reserves his
eloquence for something more complex than a dead engine. He took down
the curtain on that side, leaned out into the rain and inspected the
road behind him, shifted into reverse, and backed to the bottom.

"What's wrong?" Foster leaned forward to ask senselessly.

"When I hit level ground, I'm going to find out," Bud retorted, still
watching the road and steering with one hand. "Does the old girl ever
cut up with you on hills?"

"Why--no. She never has," Foster answered dubiously.

"Reason I asked, she didn't just choke down from the pull. She went and
died on me."

"That's funny," Foster observed weakly.

On the level Bud went into neutral and pressed the self-starter with
a pessimistic deliberation. He got three chugs and a backfire into the
carburetor, and after that silence. He tried it again, coaxing her with
the spark and throttle. The engine gave a snort, hesitated and then,
quite suddenly, began to throb with docile regularity that seemed to
belie any previous intention of "cutting up."

Bud fed her the gas and took a run at the hill. She went up like a
thoroughbred and died at the top, just when the road had dipped into the
descent. Bud sent her down hill on compression, but at the bottom she
refused to find her voice again when he turned on the switch and pressed
the accelerator. She simply rolled down to the first incline and stopped
there like a balky mule.

"Thunder!" said Bud, and looked around at Foster. "Do you reckon the old
boat is jinxed, just because I said I could drive her as far as she'd
go? The old rip ain't shot a cylinder since we hit the top of the hill."

"Maybe the mixture--"

"Yeah," Bud interrupted with a secret grin, "I've been wondering about
that, and the needle valve, and the feed pipe, and a few other little
things. Well, we'll have a look."

Forthwith he climbed out into the drizzle and began a conscientious
search for the trouble. He inspected the needle valve with much care,
and had Foster on the front seat trying to start her afterwards. He
looked for short circuit. He changed the carburetor adjustment, and
Foster got a weary chug-chug that ceased almost as soon as it had begun.
He looked all the spark plugs over, he went after the vacuum feed and
found that working perfectly. He stood back, finally, with his hands on
h