or than
usual in her pink cheeks and the light of battle in her eyes.

"By George, I've got to play my cards carefully," thought Harry, as he
contemplated the runabout. It was evident that he had designs on the
health of the two-seater also. But he felt the necessity of subtlety
in this case. He could not assassinate it boldly by tearing out a
vital organ as he had done to the bigger car. This runabout must die a
slow, lingering death. How was he to do it? His first idea was to
weaken the tires and invite "blowouts" on the road. But this could not
be done with certainty, and some kind friend might supply him with new
tires.

A more promising idea was to drain the engine of its oil, knowing that
sooner or later the pistons would run dry and stick. Such a proceeding
would ruin the engine, and Harry was too good a mechanic to spoil a
first rate engine, especially one built by his father. He would as
soon think of hamstringing a faithful horse. A better plan soon came
to him and put him into action. It soon had him flat on his back under
the car, boring a hole in the bottom of the gasoline tank. When the
life-blood of the car began to trickle out in a stream he stopped the
hole with a small wooden peg.

The young man now frowned at the only remaining vehicle which had, not
received his attention, Owen's motorcycle.

Harry went to the hose used for washing down the cards and collected a
little water in the palm of his hand. With the other hand he removed
the cap from the motorcycle's tank and allowed two or three drops of
water to mingle with the gasoline.

This done, Harry let down his sleeves, washed his hands, and sauntered
in to breakfast, with the unwelcome announcement that the big car was,
for the day at least, beyond human aid.

There was a flicker of suspicion in Owen's sallow face at the news. He
wondered if Harry had disabled the touring car that he might ride alone
with Pauline.

"I am afraid," said Harry, quietly, "that you will have to ride in the
runabout alone with me, Polly. It's rather hard on Raymond, but I
guess he must go on his motorcycle or by train."

"Oh, I think you wrecked it on purpose," said Pauline, without the
slightest suspicion that she was stating the truth.

Owen, worried by vague misgivings about Harry, looked into the tank of
the runabout to make sure that it was full, and then scurried away on
his two wheeled mount. He considered waiting until the runabout was