there
would be no trouble about obtaining credit; but to ask his father to pay
the bills for this escapade was anything but a manly and honorable way
out and Steve wished with all his heart he had never been persuaded into
the wretched affair. If there were only some escape possible, some
alternative from being obliged to confess his wrong-doing! But to hope
to conceal or make good the disaster was futile. And even if he could
cover up what had happened, how contemptible it would be! He detested
doing anything underhanded. Only sneaks and cowards resorted to
subterfuge and although he had been called many names in his life these
two had not been among them.

No, he should make a clean breast of what he had done and bear the
consequences, and once out of his miserable plight he would take care
never again to be a party to such an adventure. He had learned his
lesson.

So absorbed was he in framing these worthy resolutions that he did not
notice a tiny moving speck that appeared above the crest of the hill and
now came whirling toward him. In fact the dusty truck and its yet more
dusty driver were beside him before he heeded either one. Then the
newcomer came to a stop and he heard a pleasant voice:

"What's the matter, sonny?"

Stephen glanced up, trying bravely to return his questioner's smile.

The man who addressed him was white-haired, ruddy, and muscular, and he
wore brown denim overalls stained with oil and grease; but although he
was middle-aged there was a boyish friendliness in his face and in the
frank blue eyes that peered out from under his shaggy brows.

"What's the trouble with your machine?" he repeated.

"I don't know," returned Stephen. "If I did, you bet I wouldn't be
sitting here."

The workman laughed.

"Suppose you let me have a look at it," said he, climbing off the seat
on which he was perched.

"I wish you would."

"It is a pretty fine car, isn't it?" observed the man, as he approached
it. "Is it yours?"

"My father's."

"He lets you use it, eh?"

Stephen did not answer.

"Some fathers ain't that generous," went on the man as he began to
examine the silent monster. "If I had an outfit like this, I ain't so
sure I'd trust it to a chap of your size. Still, if you have your
license, I suppose you must know how to run it."

[Illustration: "You've got your engine nicely warmed up, youngster," he
observed casually. Page 9.]

A shiver passed through Stephen's body. A license! What