"Oh!" ejaculated Rupert. His malicious, shrewd face gained comprehension. "Oh! Well, I ain't boasting, but I could do that job up pretty fine. Failing me, Devlin is the nastiest thing on the place. You couldn't pat his head without pricking your fingers."
"Very well. Tell him to report to Rose hereafter,—and do not tell him much else. Let all the men know that Rose is training to take my place in the racing work, but do not let them know anything about his millionaire father or his share in the Cup-race affair."
Rupert directed his gaze towards the inert right arm hanging by Gerard's side.
"Your place," he echoed. "Are you giving in without putting up a stiff fight?"
Gerard's chin lifted, his eyes sprang to meet the sharp challenge of the mechanician's.
"No. The fight will soon be on. Are you going to be my second in it?"
"I'm guessing I'll be there when you look for me."
Their eyes dwelt together for a long moment.
"I should like the men to treat Rose as they do each other, so far as possible," Gerard casually resumed his original theme. "It will be good for him. He needs roughing!"