"The first time I wouldn't be surprised you should have to crank it," says I. Markowitz. "The motor has been standin' so long--I mean--that is--speakin' of motors, I think that one is maybe a little cold! Once she gets runnin' everything will be A number one!"
I goes around the front of the thing and stoops down.
"Put her on battery, if there's any on there," I calls to the Kid, "and I'll spin the motor!"
I. Markowitz steps over and lays his hand on my arm. His face is as serious as prohibition.
"Its only fair I should tell you," he whispers, "that she kicks a little!"
I give him a ungrateful look and grabs hold of the crank. After turnin' the thing ninety-four times without gettin' nothin' but a blister on my thumb, I quit.
"Nothin' stirrin'," I remarks to I. Markowitz.
"Believe me, that's funny!" he tells me, shakin' his head like he had ball bearin's in his neck.
"Ain't it?" I says. "Are you positive they's a motor inside there?"
He makes a funny little noise in his throat and not knowin' him long, I didn't know what he meant. There's a big husky in overalls walkin' by with plenty of medium oil on his face and a monkey wrench in his hand. I. Markowitz hisses at him, and they exchange jokes in some foreign language for a minute and then the new-comer grabs hold of that crank like the idea was to see if he could upset the car in three twists. He gives it a turn, and I guess the Kid had got to monkeyin' around them little buttons on the steerin' wheel because it went off like a cannon. First, there was a great big bang! And then a cloud of smoke rolls out of the back of the car and the bird that had wound the thing up come to in an oil can, half way across the floor. The Kid fell off the seat and me and I. Markowitz busted the hundred yard record to the front door.
"That was a rotten trick, wasn't it?" I asks him when we stopped.
"Why," I tells him, "puttin' that dynamite in the hood!"
"That wasn't dynamite," he says. "She only backfired a little. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out there was, now, too much air in the carburetor. The only reason I ran out here is because I seen it passin' a friend of mine and--"
"I know," I cuts him off. "I seen it too!"
We go back to the Kid and his play toy, and he's leanin' up against the side of it rubbin' his shoulder and scowlin'.