ds still!"

Excitement flared high as the two racers reappeared. But as they swept
down the straight stretch, the mechanician of the Mercury raised his
arms above his head in warning, the car slackened speed and drew to the
side of the course. As the Bluette machine fled past him, Corrie brought
his car to a halt opposite the judges' stand, leaning toward the
official who sprang to his side.

"The America's off the second bridge--send the ambulance to the road
below," he called, his ringing voice penetrating bell-clear through the
heavier sounds.

Before his grim message was fairly comprehended, he had slammed into a
gear and was off to regain the sacrificed moment.

There was a brief flurry in the official stand. One man seized the
telephone while another went slowly to the lost car's camp. From lip to
lip the news went.

"Harry was married last week," observed an oil-smeared mechanic,
touching his cap to Gerard in going by. "I guess there's no show after
that tumble; Rose might as well have saved his time."

"There is more than one prize in a contest," Gerard disagreed, meeting
Flavia's awed eyes. "Corrie Rose may win better than a gold cup."

"Corrie----?" she faltered.

"Corrie has given his leading place and one of his hoarded fragments of
time--these races are won or lost by scant minutes--for the bare chance
that his report might send aid to the injured men a little sooner than
if that task were left to the frightened witnesses of the disaster."

Flavia's small head lifted proudly, bright color flashed into the
countenance whose loving faith had never failed Corrie in his hours of
disgrace.

"I wish papa had seen," she longed wistfully. And after a moment: "You
yourself have done the same; he told me so, once. Now you have taught
him to do what you never can do any more, poor Allan."

A curious expression crossed Gerard's mobile face; hesitation and doubt
blended with a luminous radiance shining from some inward thought that
leaped up like a clear flame. He moved as if to speak impulsively, but
Flavia had turned to watch the approach of a rushing car, and he
remained silent.

In the next hour, the Mercury passed the grand-stand five times;
sometimes alone, sometimes the quarry of a coursing group of
speed-hounds whose flaming breath was close behind, sometimes itself
curving around some slower rival amid the wave-like succession of
cheers. The bulletin-board showed Corrie running in third place whe