TIBERIUS SMITH
"‘Hang on! New wrinkle!' he warned, as we left the menace.
"The new wrinkle was to ascend still higher when we next reached the bowlders and glide out on a narrow shelf, smooth of surface, that dribbled along for some thirty feet before dipping again.
"And in that brief environment the king of all chauffeurs stopped the Bloomer and for the first time he rested.
"Directly across was the exit from the track, and Tib panted that he had observed the switch when passing that opening the last time.
"‘It looked good to me,' he gurgled. 'I had to take the chance. Bloomer's a great actor, eh? Find a bottle of lime-water, or oil—anything that's wet.'
"‘You're simply great,' I blubbered, as I pawed over the hamper. 'Simply great. I'd rather be killed with you than any man I know of.'
"And he certainly looked heroic in my dependent eyes as he found his mouth through the dirt, then paused and passed the drink over to me. Yes, I drank first. I was that dry I'd have stolen the cup from the parched lips of my great-grandfather.
"Yet, it wasn't all selfishness. He was older than I, and had always looked after me like a cat after a new kitten, you know. Besides, I knew he'd never dampen his throat until I had set the example.
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