matches started yet, Bruce?" he asked, turning to the Human Encyclopedia.

"Only some of the novices. And, speaking of novices, do you know that
in Scotland there are fourteen thousand, seven hundred - "

"Cut it, Bruce! Cut it !" begged the captain. "Sit in - you and
Tom - and we'll make it two bottles. Anything to choke off your flow
of useless statistics!" and he laughed good-naturedly.

"When does the cup-winners' match start?" asked Bartlett, as the four
young men sat about the table under the veranda. "That's the one I'm
interested in."

"In about an hour," announced Sharwell, as he consulted a card. "Hardly
any of the veterans are here yet."

"Has Mr. Carwell arrived?" asked Captain Poland, as he raised his glass
and seemed to be studying the bubbles that spiraled upward from the
hollow stem.

"You'll know when he gets here," answered Bruce Garrigan.

"How so?" asked the captain. "Does he have an official announcer?"

"No, but you'll hear his car before you see it."

"New horn?"

"No, new car-new color-new everything!" said Garrigan. "He's just
bought a new ten thousand dollar French car, and it's painted red,