VI
THE G. R. A. T. TO THE RESCUE
APA said a swear, unbuckled his sword, and then got out to crank. He cranked and cranked, and still nothing happened to speak of, except a poor little cough when once or twice she started. I suspected it meant too little gasoline, and told him so; a thin mixture always stops with a cough, and an over-rich one with a dull, heavy sound. But papa, with the dreary thoroughness of a railroad president, tried out the primary circuit,
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