over his
shoulder, and caught the pink flash behind a row of mist-draped trees
edging the cross-road. Sudden mischief curved his lips, his amber eyes
laughed behind their goggles.

"Tell Corrie Rose I'll give him that game of auto tag, if he happens
along while I'm on a straight stretch," he called across to one of
Corrie's men, by way of farewell.

A little breeze stirred the mist, as the Mercury shot down the course;
the gray light was brightening by slow gradations.

There was small probability that Gerard's car and the rose-colored
machine would soon find themselves together on the twelve-mile circuit,
allowing for their difference in starting time. But as the Mercury
turned into the straight stretch of back road, on the second time
around, there sounded a sharp report, the car staggered perilously, and
a tire tore itself loose from a rear wheel to hurtle, a vicious
projectile of rubber and steel, far across the stubble fields. Reeling,
but held to its course by the driver's trained hand, the Mercury
slackened its flight and was brought to a stop. Rupert was already
leaning over the back, dragging free a spare tire; Gerard slipped out of
his seat.

For experts the task was not long. A white car thundered past the
workers, leaving a swirl of dust and flying pebbles, its mechanician
turning to survey the halted Mercury. As Rupert swept the last tool into
its place with precise swiftness, the throbbing of a second motor
drifted to them, a pink streak darted around a distant curve.

"It's Corrie," identified Gerard. "Get in, Rupert. If he wasn't forced
by his money into the amateur ranks, that boy would make some of us work
to keep our laurels, all right."

The panther-agile figure swung into place beside him.

"I ain't a market gardener," Rupert drawled, fitting one small foot in a
strap support, as the car leaped forward. "But I guess those plants
ain't apt to flourish in too rich soil."

The Mercury did not gather speed too rapidly, rather it lingered until
the pink car bore close down upon it.

"How near?" suddenly demanded Gerard, above the noise of the motor.

The mechanician reconnoitred.

"Hundred feet," he made report.

"Wave to him."

Rupert raised his hand obediently. The Mercury sprang ahead under
Gerard's touch, and with an answering roar the rose-colored machine sped
in pursuit.

There was no doubt that Corrie understood the play; nor that his car was
easily capable of passing the sixty