n my life!"

"Why don't you go out at nights, then?" growls the Kid, gettin' sore.
"Stop knockin' and tell us what's the matter with it."

"There ain't nothin' the matter with it," says the other guy with an
odd little grin. "Not a thing--_only it ain't got no carburetor in it,
that's all_!"

If he figured on creatin' a sensation on that remark--and from the way
he said it, he did--he lost the bet. The Kid just gives him the baby
stare and shrugs his shoulders like it's past him.

"No which?" he says.

"Carburetor!" explains the native. "The little cup where your gasoline
mixes with the air to start the motor."

The Kid claps his hands together and yells,

"That little crook back in Frisco must have held out on me!"

But I had been doin' some thinkin' and I looks the Kid in the eye,

"What does this carburetor thing look like?" I asks the other guy.

He describes it to me, and when he got all through I gives the Kid
another meanin' look and walks over to the ditch. After pawin' around
in the mud for a while I found the little cup the Kid had throwed away.

"Is this it?" I asks the native.

"It is," he says. "What was it doin' over there?"

"It must have fell off!" answers the Kid quickly, kickin' at me to keep
quiet.

Well, this guy finally fixes us up and about an hour later we hit the
little road that leads into Film City, without havin' no further
mishaps except the noise from that motor. About half a mile from the
gates I seen a familiar lookin' guy standin' in the middle of the road
and wavin' his hands at us.

"Slow up!" I says to the Kid. "Here's Genaro!"

The Kid reaches down to the side of his seat and yanks a handle that
was stickin' up. It come right off in his hand and we kept right on
goin'.

"That's funny!" says the Kid, holdin' up the handle and lookin' at it
like it's the first one he ever seen. "We should have stopped right
away--that's the emergency brake!"

He stamps on the floor with his foot a couple of times and shuts off
the gas. We drift right on, and, if Genaro had had rheumatism, he
would have been killed outright. As it was, he jumped aside just in
time and the car comes to a stop of its own free will about twenty feet
past him down the road.

"What's a mat?" yells Genaro, rushin' up to us. "Why you no stoppa the
car when you see me?"

"Why don't they stop prohibition?" I hollers back at him. "We must
have lost the stopper off this one, we--"

But he ru