"What for? The starter turns her over all right. Spark's all
right too, strong and hot. However--" With a sigh of
resignation Bud got out what tools he wanted and went to work.
Foster got out and stood around, offering suggestions that were
too obvious to be of much use, but which Bud made it a point to
follow as far as was practicable.

Foster said it must be the carburetor, and Bud went
relentlessly after the carburetor. He impressed Foster with the
fact that he knew cars, and when he told Foster to get in and try
her again, Foster did so with the air of having seen the end of
the trouble. At first it did seem so, for the engine started at
once and worked smoothly until Bud had gathered his wrenches off
the running board and was climbing it, when it slowed down and
stopped, in spite of Foster's frantic efforts to keep it alive
with spark and throttle.

"Good Glory!" cried Bud, looking reproachfully in at Foster.
"What'd yuh want to stop her for?"

"I didn't!" Foster's consternation was ample proof of his
innocence. "What the devil ails the thing?"

"You tell me, and I'll fix it," Bud retorted savagely. Then he
smoothed his manner and went back to the carburetor. "Acts like
the gas kept choking off," he said, "but it ain't that. She's
O.K. I know, 'cause I've tested it clean back to tank. There's
nothing the matter with the feed--she's getting gas same as
she has all along. I can take off the mag. and see if anything's
wrong there; but I'm pretty sure there ain't. Couldn't any water