Picture-Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

e should rest and take some refreshent while he went forth to establish me communication with her uncle, if jissible. L ili sat in a large rocking-chair in the Oman's cottage, with a cup of tea and plate of toast and jam on the table :side her, and watched Jim go swingg down the street. As he vanished ound a corner, a spasm of anxiety and _>prehension seized her. What if he lould not return? The only man who . >uld understand her speech and talk ith her ! What if he should have anher combat with those barbarians at e garage, and not be able to come flick to her? I Suddenly she set the teacup down ith a clatter, sprang from the chair, ! id hurled at the good New England oman a torrent of rapid French grati de and apology. : The woman was sure now that what me had first suspected was the solemn -uth — the poor, young thing was hopeijssly insane! So she stood aghast, and i ade no remonstrance when Lili . irted out the door and ran swiftly iter Jim Pemberton. After a chase of three blocks, the Dung man was caught, and Lili had no freat difficulty in convincing him that :e should not go anywhere without her. -;.e was vastly tempted to ask her to . ake that condition absolutely perma;nt, but he merely agreed to her derands, and promised to serve her as a ell as a penniless young man might h. . They went to the telegraph office, and |m told the girl's story to the agent, -id begged to send a wire to her uncle Jrollect." The agent was suspicious, ibd refused to consider the proposal, k> they went on their way more helpless lan ever. Jim approached the local otel keeper and outlined to him a plan br giving the young woman proper lelter and protection until her uncle ljuld be advised of her whereabouts. I he hotel man, however, was a friend T the garage proprietor, and had just eard of Jim's dismissal from the esmblishment ; there was "nothing doing !" ! "Monsieur Pemberton, we will walk p that city of Boston!" Lili declared, -'ith fine spirit. "But it is — oh, many, many miles from iere!" he protested; "and you are ter ibly fatigued already." i "Monsieur Pemberton, we shall go!" he squared her shoulders, and threw PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY back her head with the brave determination of a grenadier of France. Jim protested, but Lili merely started herself, and Jim was forced to follow, for she would listen to no objections. They walked four miles, which was three miles and a half farther than he expected her to walk, and only during the last stages of the march would she consent to lean on his arm, though she could not conceal a painful limp and a weary drooping of the shoulders. It was quite dark by that time, and Jim ordered a halt, with polite insistence. Still she demurred, but he was firm, and, after a little careful scouting, he found an old farmhouse, vacant, but in a fair state of cleanliness. They went in through a window, and she sank down, exhausted, upon the floor, and took involuntary rest. Unperceived by her, Jim crept out of the house and went on a foraging expedition. He returned in ten minutes with a hatful of potatoes and onions, some dry twigs, and a battered tin can full of water. While she slept, with her head pil.lowed on his folded coat, he built a fire in the ancient fireplace, and concocted no less homely and simple a dish than boiled potatoes and onions. It seemed foolish to them both to be in such a situation, but conditions made it imperative. Lili slept soundly for a while, but when she awoke her ravenous hunger made her eat what he had prepared, without a thought of the want of seasoning or the crudeness of the preparation. They talked for half an hour after the repast, and then she sank back upon the hard, dusty floor again, and was instantly asleep. Jim was not tired, but he was gravely anxious for this girl, who was in such a harrowing predicament, and he sat beside her all through the night, dozing slightly at times, but never losing himself in slumber. Morning dawned, and Lili awoke surprisingly refreshed and mended in body and spirit. They left the old house, and walked through the town that lay just beyond, in hope of discovering some way. to clear matters. Jim stopped suddenly in the main street of the place and scanned a gayly colored poster on a billboard hopefully. Lili looked at the poster, then cast an inquiring glance at him, for she could not read a word of the advertisement. 13 "There is an automobile race to be held here to-day, mademoiselle," he explained, "and I am hoping that it may be a source of help to us. I am a trained driver and mechanician, and I may .be able to do something that will earn for us our fare to Boston, and some money with which to buy food." "Ah, monsieur, but this race driving is a very dangerous sport !" she exclaimed, with pretty solicitude. "Everything we do in this world is dangerous, in one way or another, mademoiselle," he replied lightly. "By your leave, we will visit the race track where the contest is to be held, and I will make some inquiries." At the fair grounds, beyond the town, Jim left Lili seated comfortably in a shady grove, and went on a scouting tour. As he approached one of the temporary garages near the track, walking slowly and quietly, he chanced to overhear a scrap of conversation between two men who were standing back of the building, and who evidently did not notice his approach. "It's a bargain, then," said one of the men. "I can depend on Mercier to back me up, if he receives his share of the money. We will drive a good race, you may be sure, but near the finish something will happen to the car; Mercier and I will take care of that!" "All right, Mr. Vallon," said the other man. "I shall trust you. Your car must not finish the race. We must prove that it is not a dependable car, and for the evidence I desire I will pay you the fifteen hundred dollars." Jim Pemberton waited to hear no more. He turned, without making a sound, and walked away, passing to the other side of the building. From the dozen or more men standing about the little camp, he singled out one of apparent authority, and introduced himself as a man qualified to act as driver or mechanician of a racing car. The man looked him over critically. "I don't need any one at present," he remarked. "I am handling the entry of a friend of mine, Mr. Henry Breval, and I have engaged Vallon to drive the car, with a fellow named Mercier as mechanician." Jim started suddenly, uttering an exclamation of surprise. "That is interesting," he said slowly, deliberating on the proper course to pursue. "I don't want you to think me an eavesdropper,