smiling drivers. The first machine was already at the starting-line,
ready as an arrow on the cord, its pilot smoking a cigarette and
chatting indolently with the official starter.

"I drew second for you, last night," Gerard reminded his driver, leaning
against the Mercury to look up at him. "Of course, you have your numbers
on. You will have to get into line in a moment; don't you want to get
out and move about, first? You are going to have six or seven hours'
grind."

"I'm rested best right here," responded Corrie placidly. He nestled
himself more snugly into his seat and proceeded to fasten on the mask
and hood that quenched his blond youth into kinship of blank identity
with every other driver on the course. "The crowd is pretty thick; I
hope they get the people off."

"The police are clearing the way, now. Corrie----"

The thunderous voice of the car from the next camp interrupted speech as
it went past them.

"Good luck, Rosie! I'll leave your rear wheels alone," shouted its
driver. "By-by, Allan."

"If he's worried bad about his, I'll lend him a safety-pin from my
shirtwaist," drawled Rupert, lounging up, hooking his own mask. "I ain't
muck-raking, but he broke his rear axle at Indianapolis, last month, and
lost two wheels."

"Corrie," Gerard pursued, "you are to bring yourself back safely. I do
not want any victories at the price of your wreck. Remember that I am
responsible for your being at this work, and remember Flavia."

"If I wreck my car there won't be _any_ victory," Corrie practically
returned. "Besides, I have got Rupert with me to be looked after; if I
were making a speed dash by myself I might take a chance or two. You
never let me out alone. It's all right. They are signalling."

Rupert sprang into his seat like a rubber ball, bracing one small
legging-clad foot for support; not the least of a racing mechanician's
arts being that of clinging at all times to his reeling post of duty.
Gerard held out his hand for Corrie's parting clasp, then exchanged a
warm grip with Rupert. Between the driver and mechanician who were to
play the perilous game side by side, there passed no such friendly
touch. Gerard never looked at the watching violet-blue eyes of the third
man during that farewell ceremony.

"Take care of yourselves," he bade.

"It's a nice morning for a ramble," observed Rupert. "Don't worry, love,
we'll be in to tea."

The Mercury Titan rolled into place in the line of flaming, pa