ie explained, his blue eyes seeking Gerard's
across the goggles. "I don't mind anything else. They're over the course
so you can't see ahead. Jim hit a woman, on the back stretch, as we
passed."

He put the heavy china cup to his lips, but dropped it with a crash to
seize his levers as Rupert bounded in beside him.

"Have the people cleared off," he petitioned over his shoulder, while
sending his car forward.

Gerard went to the judges' stand.

Corrie Rose was not the first or only driver to complain of the packed
course. The Mercury had scarcely departed when the Marathon car came in,
its experienced and steel-fibred pilot on the brink of nervous
breakdown.

"I won't drive if the mob isn't put off the road," he defied his
manager. "I've killed a woman back there--do you hear? A _woman_! There
are women and kids right against the wheels on the worst turns. Get 'em
off!"

The Marathon force flocked around him in consternation, while his
manager ran to the judges and the owner of the car implored and adjured
the recalcitrant driver to go on without further loss of time. But it
was Gerard who saved the situation for his rival.

"It's all right, Jim," he called across, issuing from the official stand
and comprehending the deadlock at sight. "You only broke her leg--a
telephone report came. Go on; everyone's with you, man!"

The Marathon's mechanician, wise in knowledge of his pilot, at this
juncture leaned over and thrust between Jim's lips a lighted cigar.

"Buck up! We're losin'," he urged roughly.

The driver's teeth sullenly clamped shut upon the strong tobacco; he
slammed viciously into a gear and hurled his machine down the course
before the startled camp realized its victory. The stop had lasted
exactly three minutes, but it cost the Marathon its hope of the race.

The morning advanced, gaining in sun-gilt beauty. In the next hour four
racers were taken from the contest, three by mechanical difficulties,
one as the result of an accident that sent both driver and mechanician
to the hospital. The Mercury continued to run steadily and evenly,
keeping a consistent pace.

"How much longer?" Flavia anxiously questioned, once. "Do you think
everything can stay right to the very end, Allan?"

Gerard laid his warm left hand over her cold one, as it rested on the
cushions, his loving eyes caressing her.

"Two hours more, my Flavia. Most surely I believe everything can stay
right; why not? Remember Corrie deli