nd walks around to the crank.

"As soon as you could hear it buzz," he grunts at the Kid, "you should
give her some gas."

I stood aside and picked out my exit, and I. Markowitz seen his friend
passin' again so he started for the door. The Kid says we're both
yellah and climbs gamely back into the seat. Herschel stops mutterin'
long enough to give the crank a turn, which same he did. This time
there was no shots fired, but the thing begins the darndest racket I
ever heard in my life. A boiler factory would have quit cold alongside
of that motor and a cavalry charge would have gone unnoticed on the
same floor. I asked I. Markowitz what broke, and he says nothin' but
that the noise is caused by the motor bein' so powerful, fifty horse
power, he claimed.

"You can't tell me," I says, backin' away from the thing, "that no
fifty horses could make that much noise, not even if they was crazy!
The guy that brought that in here must have tied a lot of machine guns
together with a fuse and Stupid there set 'em off when he turned the
crank!"

He runs around to the side where the Kid is and shuts down the gas and
I seen half of Frisco lookin' in the door, figurin' the Japs had got
started at last, or else somebody was puttin' on a dress rehearsal of
the Civil War.

"Ain't she a beauty?" screams I. Markowitz to the Kid, barely makin'
himself heard over the din. "Give a listen how that motor turns
over--not a break or a miss and as smooth like glass! That's hittin'
on six, all right!"

"I'm glad to hear that," I says. "I'm glad it's only six, because the
thing will have to quit pretty soon. There ain't no six nothin's could
stand up under that hittin' much longer!"

I. Markowitz steps on the runnin' board and holds on with both hands.
He had to, because that motor had got the car doin' a muscle dance.

"Where d'ye want to go?" he yells to the Kid. "I'll have Herschel take
you out so he should show you everything."

"Tell him to wash his face instead!" the Kid hollers back. "I don't
need nobody to show me nothin' about a car. Come on!" he yells at me.
"All aboard for Film City!"

"Ha! Ha!" I sneers. "Rave on! I wouldn't get in that thing for
Rockefeller's bankroll!"

I had to holler at the top of my voice to drown out that motor.

"C'mon!" yells the Kid. "Don't be so yellah--you got everybody lookin'
at you. She's all right now, and as soon as she gets warmed up she'll
be rollin' along in great shape!"