e's a-chasin' around town with that car instead of stayin' here
tendin' to his business!'

"'I'll go in and get Alf,' says Harry Evans, startin' fur his machine.

"Nobody says nothin'.

"'I ain't got the heart to tell Butsy,' says Peewee.

"Harry Evans begins to turn the handle on his machine. He turns it fur
ten minutes. When he's all in, he straightens up.

"'Somebody'll have to help me crank her,' he says.

"The crowd goes to work. They all take turns. But she don't start.

"'Er--it occurs to me there may be something wrong with her,' says
Harry Evans, 'n' starts to lift off the cover where the machinery is.
Peewee gives me a poke in the ribs.

"'I expect he's right,' he says.

"'I'm gettin' all-fired tired of this putterin' around,' says the old
Jasper. 'Tom', he says to a guy in overalls, 'get a crowbar an' knock
them padlocks off.'

"'If you do that I'll put ye in jail!' yells Burns. 'That's a criminal
act! It's destruction of property with burglarious intent! Ain't it,
Harry?'

"Harry comes up out of the machinery. There's grease even on his specs.

"'It's the carbureter,' he says.

"'I'll leave it to the judge!' hollers Burns. 'Ain't that a criminal
act?'

"'A--hem!' says the judge, 'I am not prepared to say you have the right
to those stalls, but I wouldn't advise breaking a lock. As you say,
it's a criminal act.'

"Just then here comes Orphy rollin' through the gates.

"'You hustle in an' git Alf Dingle!' says the old Jasper to him. 'An'
when you git back, you stay here where you're needed!'

"The crowd has moved 'round back of the stalls to watch Harry Evans
work on his machine. I stands with 'em fur a while, but Peewee has
left. All of a sudden I see him poke his head 'round the end of the
new stalls 'n' give me the high sign.

"'What you standin' out in the rain fur?' he says, when I gets near him.

"'What else can I do?' I says.

"'Come on 'n' I'll show you,' says Peewee.

"He leads me round in front of the stalls. In two of 'em is the hosses
all bedded down nice. Butsy is settin' in the stall with his stud. He
makes a puddle wherever he sets.

"'How did you get 'em open?' I says.

"'They ain't locked,' says Peewee. 'None of 'em are. The padlocks is
closed, _but not locked_.'

"_No_,' I says.

"'It's the truth!' says Peewee, 'n' we rolls in the straw a-holdin' to
each other till I feel like I'd been stepped on by a draft hoss.

"Butsy gets up.

"'Just