Bi grimaced. He might need his good right arm for pitching that afternoon. But at a nod from Bunny, he sprang readily enough to the crank. Unless the car started, it looked like there wouldn't be any baseball game to play.
Balancing the crank once or twice against the compression, he lifted it suddenly and spun it with all his might. But no explosion signaled the success of his effort. Bi straightened up to catch his breath and wipe off the perspiration that was trickling down his face.
"Try her again," Specs ordered. "I'll work the spark when you get going."
Bi bent to his task for the second time. Round and round whirled the crank. But, as before, the motor refused to "catch."
"Prime her," suggested Bonfire.
Once more Bi cranked till he was ready to drop. In the meantime, Bonfire began prowling about and muttering to himself: "Tank full. Gas flows all right. Carburetor float not stuck. Must be the ignition." He tested with a long-bladed screwdriver. "Yep; no spark. Sure you've—Hello! Why, you muckle-headed McGrew, do you expect to get a merit badge for trying to start a motor without throwing on the switch?"
"What!" Bi threw himself on the ground and kicked feebly. "Do you mean to say I've been cranking my head off when you didn't even throw over the switch? Help!"
Specs grinned sheepishly. "I thought you needed the exercise," he said. "All right; she'll start now."
But she wouldn't. Bi cranked till he was red in the face, without the reward of even one feeble puff from the exhaust. With a last spin of the handle, for good measure, he stepped back disgustedly.