auu ucju, iuiu severaj *.aods or stiff
nrandy. lie stood by uco or sat m
♦he stiff chair and his eyes never left the
of the boy, his fingers "never left tlgi
pulse. Twice he paused to reach for the
tray containing the adrenalin and nee
dle; twice he wavered and did not use it.
Then, just as the Summer tempest
broke over Linwood, ending tournament
and tour In a blazr of ripping, roaring
thunder, lightning and rain, he saw what
he was waiting for. Sighing gently, he
lifted the lids of the boy and studied the
eyes briefly, and then stepped quietly
into the hall.
Susan grabbed his arm.
“Johnny,” she cried, “Johnny, tell me
—will he —live?”
Dully, he nodded.
“I think so—now." he said.
‘ Johnny, you were wonderful, magnifi
cent i” she breathed.
“How did you know?” he inquired
briefly.
“Dad —Dad was furious He swore
you'd murdered the boy. And when
Father persecutes some one. he’s afraid
of him—afraid he’s better than Dr. Fair
child Laird!” Susan stated simply, “I'm
glad you saved him, Johnny. He’s an
awfully sweet boy."
“I hope you’ll be very happy together,”
Johnny said, stiffly. Susan stared at him,
owl-eyed.
“Happy? Me? With Lloyd Sellers?
Johnny, are you utsnay? Lloycs engaged
to marry a little girl back home in hia
own town. She’s a telephone op
erator and they went to high school to
gether!”
“You —you mean you’re not crazy over
him, or in love, or anything?” Johnny
blurted, certain that lack of sleep was
impairing his faculties.
“I’m certainly not in love with a
motorcycle racer,” Susan stated firmly.
“It’s bad enough to worry about a person
dying of overwork or catching infantile
or something without adding sheer in
sanity to the list!”
“Worrying,” Johnny repeated slowly,
doubtfully, “did you say worrying, Susan?
Because if you did, maybe you mean. . *
“Worrying,” she said firmly, “but some
of it I can evade by being tough,
Johnny Benedict. Home for you, young
man, and twelve hours of sleep, and I
stand guard all the time! Then a bath,
a shave, some eats. . .”
“Could I maybe have a small
first?” Dr. Benedict inquired meekly.
Susan grinned
“We’ll see. Whei. we’re out of this
institution of moans and groans. And
wait till you see the paper, Johnny. Ia
my parent’s nose out of joint? For once
in his life some jne told him where to
head in and got away with it. Further
more. you were right.’
“Os course I was right, the old . .
peach,” Johnny amended hastily, recall
ing his applied psychology, third year,
lesson ten, “but after all. precedent is
a matter of
“Os being the older man and selling
the world the notion that nothing new
is any good until it’s very old,” Susan
said sweetly, meshing gears and heading
out home with relief.
’•■|l l^fffßp^^^y» x v‘jffPf* 's» I j|||||'jP ! *
: ®S / .. . x
«* •■•'• •'•■ vg r■■;;■ ••• v -^i:>
mure Lliari lie could cumpiciiciiu me
brutality of dog racing, but he *
uad to be civil. • *
Boo,” Susan cheerfully, "I’m
uot tlie least bit scared, and he doesn’t
bite, Lloyd. Stay and have supper with
us, Johnny? I promise not to do tricks
on the chandelier or turn handsprings.
And Daddy’s tied up at the health fac
tory —thanks to you!"
Johnny flushed. He had forgotten it
was Thursday, and Country Club din
ner night. For nine years now he had
been missing seven out of ten of these
weekly Thursday night banquets, and
for nine years it had rankled. Now op
portunity virtually battered the hinges
off his door And with Susan Laird
daughter of the cause of all his head
ache!
The food was particularly good — a
rich, rare roast beef, with an excel
lent salad, new peas, peach shortcake
and fine coffee —and Johnny had for
gotten how good fine food can be or how
much it can do to a tired mind and
stomach. The orchestra played "Beau
tiful Lady,” and Lloyd promptly danced
the number with Susan; then it began
playing "When My Dreamboat Comes
Home,” and Johnny stood up.
He was startled to discover she danced
like a dryad. Then it occurred to his
methodical scientific mind that all sport
was a fine sense of rhythm and there
was nothing in the sporting world Susan
Laird hadn’t tried —and succeeded at
without working much, either.
They returned to the table, Susans
lopg slender fingers 'aced carelessly with
bis, and Captain Sellers looked slightly
dashed, slightly displeased as he stared
intently at him.
AT 10 Johnny led Susan out on to the
terrace midway in a dance and
gruffly told her he had to leave.
“I have to relieve your father," he ex
plained.
She slipped her fingers into one big
palm and was silent A dozen confused
thoughts raced through his mind, but
none of them took form. i
“Susan,” he said diffidently, "you’re
. crazy over this motorcycle affair,
aren’t you?" Remembering that she had
been wild to own and stunt one when
she was 10!
“Meaning— Lloyd is a glamorous hero
:o me, Johnny?” she countered softly.
“Meaning nothing of the sort,” he said
gruffly, “you’ve known the man a mat
ter of hours, Susan But the races I’ve
got to play in the tournament. I’ve
oracticed all Summer for it—and you
vant to see the Nomad Tour.”
"I’ll manage." she said calmly, "don’t
vorry, Johnny. And it doesn’t take
nours. you know — a matter of seconds is
sufficient. I thought you knew that."
She slipped her fingers out of his and
hurried lightly back to the clubhouse
Johnny heard Lloyd saying eagerly, “I’ve
looked everywhere for you, honey—
where have you been, listening to that
bird’s operations?”
That was it. Johnny thought sav-
ol the local physicians loyally turned it
right over Johnny, but if it was a
major operation, was called upon
—mith headlines, spotlight and soft
music. Plus a check in three figures and,
sometimes four! No, Johnny was Justly
Irritated, beyond doubt.
Then there was this last, this crowning
straw. The golf tournament was to be
held in September and, simultaneously,
the State motorcycle clubs were to bring
their famous "Nomad Tour” to Linwood
County in the final big week-long race
and stunt circus of the season. Sepa
rate, they spelled hard work for Johnny
Hard work night after night, practicing
for the tournament; and hard work hour
after hour in the emergency operating
room, piecing together shattered frag
ments of young .neii from 25 down, who
had not yet learned the simple . ws of
gravity in relation to speed, gasoline, two
or three cylinders and a country road
for glory. Together they spelled tragedy
“It’s your stint, John.” “Fair" said
firmly. “I took all the bad end of it—
the pneumonia and scarlet fever and
whooping cough and masto-ds. Winter
In Connecticut isn’t pie for a doctor!"
“You take half the time stint on this
Nomad Tour so I can play in the tourna
ment or I quit!” Johnny blazed.
“A doctor,” “Fair” reminded him icily
“can’t quit! He belongs to humanity!”
A soft, dulcet voice mterrupted the
battle: iron-gray head turned at the
same moment dark, rumpled one did. and
Susan Laird came in.
Johnny’s face darkened to further dis
gust. It would hav*- to be like this
She’d have to look like that— and be
“Fair” Lairds daughter!
The last time he had seen Susan Laird
was six years before and she had been a '
scrawny, skinny, bony child with a bright
badge of freckles decorating her brief,
straight little nose; a bright mane of
hair drifting to her thin shoulders and a
voice that was husky and slurred softly,
like a young boy’s.
She had been violently addicted to
dungarees, old sweat shirts, sneakers
and swim suiti that made the rocking
chair brigade gasp in startled shock then
She had been a crack rifle shot, an ex
pert rider and the idol of the sand-lot
baseball teams for the way she could fan
the biggest rival out of their horizon
without half trying. She had been, in
fact, Doc Laird's awful tomboy daughter
who’d come to no good end.
** talks about quitting, and why?
” Susan inquired and Johnny flinched
before the startling blue of her eyes and
the further discovery that minus the
gold wires on her teeth her smile way
something to launch a few naval fleets.
“Dr. Benedict was Just saying that he
hoped the * motorcycle races wouldn t
come here another year.” Laird said
blandly. Johnny glared and hunched
broad shoulder*
“I think they’re swell,” Susan said in
elegantly. “when I was 10, my life ambi
tion was to own one and do tricks on the
handlebars at fifty miles an hour —or
maybe I mean ninety?”
“Oh. ninety, by all means ” Johnny
there at a party, and Pat’s affairs never
broke up until morning. Briefly he
outlined the state of affairs, and a thin
sheath of ice formed around his heart
at Susan’s broken wail of despair.
“I’m coming, Johnny,” she gasped
I’ll be there as soon as ever I can!”
“Fair” stormed In, fuming, glared at
ohnny when he recognized the blond
oung man lying unconscious, merci
ully, on the stretcher.
“Why bother me?” he said testily
Aren’t you capable?”
“it’s a spinal. Doctor," Johnny said
.readily, “and I’ve never done but a few
lone like this —there are three fractured
ertebrae. . .”
“Fair’ cursed softly, expertly, and
ant over the X-ray plates
"All right— we’ll try," he said.
They came out two hours later, drip
ping with perspiration, while nurses
wheeled Lloyd to the elevator. “Fair’
shrugged into a polo coat and was driven
.lome to sleep, and Johnny took up
• igil beside the bed.
LTE REMEMBERED Susan some time
later and went down to the waiting
toom. She stood by the big window,
pale, wan and wearing purple shadows
around either frightened eye. She wore
a green brocaded satin dance gown that
trailed to the floor, and her slippers
had gay rhinestone buckles and a cluster
of gardenias wilted on her shoulder
3eneath her lip rouge her mouth was
-;ray and her face white and terrified
“Johnny —Johnny, there’s a chance?’
■he whispered. He nodded bleakly.
“About one in ten thousand, Susan,
le said quietly.
“Save him, Johnny! Oh, don’t, don't
let him die! He was so sweet, so dear
and gay and . foolish!” she gasped.
He nodded silently, turned back to
he vigil before him.
At 12 Dr. Fairchild Laird came into
the private room where Johnny was
waiting for death to make the first
move and whispered a low question.
“Last day of the tournament —are you
still in. Benedict?”
Johnny’s face was blank. He had
forgotten! Why, the tournament was a
million light years ago. What did it
matter that he was third in the list
now? That Laird was fourth? Kirkei
and Semple, the two stars from Still
brook and Wayne Harbor, would win it
probably. They were shooting nothing
short of inspired golf these last few
days of the meet.
“Kirker’s out,” “Fair” went on softy
“and I’m playing Semple first. If you
want, i’ll fix things so we can go through
with it.”
The “we” decided Johmr The nerve
“Could I maybe have a small kiss
first?” Johnny inquired meekly.
Susan grinned. JfWe’ll see when
we are out of this institution of
moans and groans”
Iways the least expected players who
nanaged to stay in to the final playoff
On the other hand, the Nomad Torn
vas turning Linwood into a madhouse
she town overflowed with people, ana
ledestrians walked in the roads, the
idewalks were so crowded. And over it
ill roared the steady, rhythmic thundei
>f the motorcycles, ripping and roaring
i round the three-mile course roped and
taked off from ordinary roads.
Johnny dreaded going into the hos
ual He met disaster and tragedy or
;ach occasion and, despite his seasoned
xperience with both, flinched and
winced at the fresh shock of youth—
md they were so young —meet ng grim
eath in such inexorable fashion.
There was the afternoon he passea
he two still forms in the hall' on his
vay in and the shock that gripped him
when he saw the eyelid of one of the
ooys twitch spasmodically. He bem
>ver him, touched the slender wrist.
A doctor spoke at his elbow. “Not a
possible chance; ruptured liver. Ma
jhine went out of control and ne wen'
up a hundred feet and came down on a
fence post. Poor kid.” He was 19, and
he had loved his bright, beautiful new
motorcycle.
Johnny cursed impotently and stalkeo
into the operating room. Everything
was in preparation —fractured hip
shattered thigh bone and multiple
lacerations He worked fast and prayed
silently. He turned from the stretchei
being wheeled out to one coming in. A
patient of two days ago —blood trans
fusion might save the boy. He ex
amined the test readings and nodded
Began work.
A T MIDNIGHT the ambulance droneo
** to the door and internes raced out
with a stretcher Johnny’s heart went
down to his boots when he saw the
battered, broken, bleeding face of Lloyd
Sellers.
“Machine left the road at the big
bank and climbed a guard rail, tore
through a pile of boulders and rocks,'
the interne explained. “ 'Fraid he’s a
goner, Doc.”
“Call Dr. Laird!” Johnny snapped.
“But Dr. Laird left word not to dis
turb him unless it was an emergency,'
the call board said.
“Call him!" Johnny ordered grimly
He stepped into a booth and called
Patty Hanlon’s number. Susan was
agely. He was old. Thirty-seven. And
lost in his profession, while that young
ster — 22 or 23, most likely, and a reck
less, hare-brained daredevil.
He went on duty, stopping for coffee
and a sandwich in the lunchroom, and
Fair” Laird went to change Jnto evening
clothes. It annoyed Johnny invariably
He was suspicious of a man who made
such a point of wearing dress clothes
on every required occasion. The men he
liked didn't.' They wore them unde:
protest—violent protest, and they wor
a martyred air with them invariably
a
"PHE tournament began next day, an*
the Nomad Tour got under way thi
same morning. He met Susan driving
Lloyd’s bright, shining new motorcyclf
on the way to the club, and she looked
about 16 in her white aviator’s breeches
gold blazer and gold bandeau tying
down her flying curls. She waved a
gauntleted hand at him and roarec
past, merging into a cloud of dust a
few hundred feet past him.
His game was bad. and he left early
disgusted. In the hospital dressing room
‘Fair” cornered him, armed for argu
ment.
““See here, Benedict, no reason why
we can’t both play in that tournament
if we get together on it,” he began per
suasively.
Johnny’s lips set in a thin line and hi.-
gray eyes darkened ominously.
“I’m playing,’’ he warned Susan
father flatly.
“So am I,” blandly retorted the wily
old practitioner, "we budget the thing
See here, John, you take over here ana
let me play in the first bracket; then i
hurry back here and you get out there
in time to play in that last group.”
Johnny stared hard at him, sus
picion warning him that never, not
even once, had “Fair” Laird proposi
tioned him or anybody else without
swindling him right out of business— it
was a disease with him. If he scratched
vou you fell by the wayside, victim of
nis poison.
“O. K.,” he said briefly, “but no tricks
mind you!”
“Fair" smiled thinly, shrugged.
"Tricks?” he said blandly. ‘My deal
• ellow!”
"My dear ankle," Johnny swore.
.oundly and stalked off.
The tournament got under way, ana
as the field of players dwindled off, each
round cutting down the number
Johnny’s anxiety grew. Supposing
Fair” stayed right in to the last
bracket? And what if the group got
down to three or four players? It
always did— and paradoxically it was