Picture-Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY 15 1 nough you wouldn't think it, by the I j?ay he avoids me. He's striking out 1 or himself in the world, and he ' iarries his independence to extreme fpngths." Sauverne scowled, and was silent for moment. "I don't like this," he said iravely, at length. "Your father has a iar in the race ; he is one of our strong ompetitors, and you did not tell me pat you were the son of Pemberton, ne motor-car man! Why?" "My father forbade me to drive racijig cars some time ago," Jim replied rankly, "and since then I have followed ny own course, and tried to build up a areer without the influence of his atne." "That sounds very well," said Sau'ierne curtly ; "but I am not putting a ompetitor's son into the driver's seat f our car, you may be sure ! I'll bid ou both good day !" "You've robbed me of a fine chance d win success and possibly a good posijion, dad," said Jim, sorely disappointed. 'Xow. you might at least let me drive ■our own car in the race ; it's no more '.ian fair." , "You know my wishes in that respect, jim," returned the older man sternly. Xever, with my consent, will you risk lour life in a racing car." "Very well, then," retorted the son. I see that I must continue to go my iwn way, father. I hope you will have 'uccess in the race this afternoon." As a trumpet call summoned the en;rants in the race to assemble at the Itarting point, the disconsolate Jim and Lili stood near the garages and saw Mr. lauverne drive the Breval car from the hed himself. He had failed to secure reliable driver, so he hired a skillfu' nechanician, and placed himself at the teering wheel. j The long, low, dark-gray car glided ■rnoothly through the yard, and headed jior the gateway that led to the track, -iim looked it over admiringly, and hook his head sadly. He had set his eart on driving it, and, though he • ished his father's car no lack of suc ess, he knew that he would have piloted 'his rival with all his heart and soul. Sauverne reached the track rail and waited for an attendant to swing open he gate, and, as the car stood still here for a moment, there came from a lump of shrubbery on the other side of the track a flash, a puff of thin smoke, and a sharp crack. Sauverne uttered a piercing cry and flung up his arms, and as Jim and some other bystanders rushed to him, he sank back in his seat, pale and gasping, and a thread of crimson trickled slowly down his arm from a distinct wound in the top of his shoulder. . A man was seen stealing from the shrubbery, and a score of men vaulted the track rail and gave chase. There was a race, a scuffle, two or three harmless revolver shots, and then the pursuers came back, dragging Vallon, the race driver, to turn him over to the sheriff. Jim could wait no longer, and sought out Sauverne. "It may be asking too much, sir," said Jim, "but I wish you would let me take the wheel. I can give you only my word that I will drive the car honestly and with all the skill I have, but I feel that I can win the race." Sauverne looked searchingly into his face, long and gravely. Then "All right, my boy !" he exclaimed. "There's • no one else, now, and I'll take a chance on you. Go to it !" An ambulance arrived at that minute, and Sauverne was helped out of the racing car and into the hospital conveyance. Without loss of time, Jim sprang to the wheel, and, as the bugle sounded a second call, he waved his hand reassuringly to the anxious Lili, and whirled out into the track. It was a two-mile oval, and the race was set for twenty laps. The cars left the starting line in relays — fifteen of them in all — and the Breval. car was off with a spirited dash at the second starting gun. In a moment, Jim found himself racing, hood to hood, with his father's car, which had no less a celebrity than Bernard Vieuxchamp at the wheel, and he threw himself into the contest with every nerve and sinew in his body strung to the highest tension. He thought of the men who had staked money on the failure of the Breval car, and kept a sharp watch on the inner track rail at all the turns, but Vallon was out of the way, and Jim hoped that the rascal's failure to put the car out of the race by shooting Sauverne would discourage other attempts. At the beginning of the eighth lap, the car wavered and skidded slightly, and Jim stopped it instantly, just as a rear wheel collapsed. He and the mechanician leaped out and pushed the racer into one of the repair inclosures, and investigation showed that the wheel had been treacherously tampered with at the garage, five bolts having been removed and the holes cleverly masked. The mechanician proved himself a good man in a pinch, however, and in four minutes they had a spare wheel in place, and the car on the track once more. As they passed the grand stand, leaping over the track at twice the speed of an express train, a roar of applause followed them, and Jim leaned farther over and kept his eyes on the course, with jaw set and every muscle taut. At the sixteenth lap, nine cars were out of the race, and scarcely one of the remaining ones had escaped without some trifling tire or engine trouble. The Breval car, however, was standing the test nobly, its only delay having been caused by trickery. The Pemberton car was ahead of them all at the nineteenth lap, and Jim had still half a lap to make up. With the mechanician working frantically "to keep the steel monster alive, Jim strained every particle of the mechanism to the last notch before the breaking point, and on the last quarter of the final round he shot past his father's car. An earthquake rumble and roar from the grand stand fairly shook the ground, and as the Breval car flashed over the line the crowd went wild. Thousands crowded to the rails and threw hats and flags and coats in the air. Jim was taken from his seat as he drove into the paddock, and borne on the shoulders of shrieking enthusiasts, until the pale, but joyous, Mr. Sauverne, with his shoulder heavily bandaged, pushed through the throng and rescued the young victor from the excess of popularity. "Pemberton, my boy," exclaimed Sauverne, as they gained a quieter and more comfortable spot, "I salute you ! I believe that no other man could have driven that race as you did ; our victory is entirely due to you. Here is the thousand dollars I promised you, and wrapped up with it you will find a little bonus of five hundred dollars." Early in the evening, Jim took chairs in the parlor car of a train to Boston, and two hours later he and Lili Breval arrived in a taxicab at the Beacon Street