“Why, of course,” replied the doctor. “As well as ever you were, I’m hoping.” “But--but will I be ugly?” “Little Miss Vanity!” grinned the doctor. “You ought to be thankful you have a breath left in your body. No, you won’t be ugly, if you mean disfigured. Of course there’ll be scars--” “Do you think I’ll be able to ride again?” persisted the girl. “I don’t know why you shouldn’t be able to ride; but I guess when you set eyes on the track you won’t want to. As for the rest, the cuts are pretty clean and not deep. I should say, on the whole, that you’ll have to look fairly close into the glass to see the one on your cheek, and your hair will cover the scalp-wound. The others aren’t anywhere to prevent you from wearing low-cut frocks. Now, are you satisfied, daughter of Eve?” “Yes, thank you, Doctor. If the bone in my arm mends all right, that is. It’s hurting a whole lot to-day.” “That means precisely that it is mending,” said the doctor as he picked up his bag to depart. “And now that you’re sure of your precious beauty, you’d better try to get some sleep.” Sadie closed her eyes obediently, but her brows were knitted in thought. When the doctor had moved on, she looked up again with a sigh. “Nurse, the light bothers my eyes, and I can’t turn my head,” she said. “Will you please pull down the blind?” * * * * * While it is still young and overflowing with vitality, the human frame is able to summon life forces to its aid that can sometimes knit up broken bones and torn tissues as though by magic power. Teddy Rocco had seen various striking demonstrations of this quality in his racing career, but it had never occurred to him that a mere girl might possess it. He was greatly astonished, therefore, on meeting Ryan at a southern track, to hear that Sadie was once more riding for the “Flying Centaur” people. “She don’t look a cent worse,” said Ryan. “Same little red suit, same little smile, same throaty little voice. And she’s making good, too. Been all over the West, and packed up a nice parcel of the long green. Not that she’ll ever need it; that kid will marry a million some day. One of the guys that was following her round was big rich.” All that day Teddy rode entirely without judgment, and his old daredevil dash was not in him. In fact, that was becoming his consistent experience. Every time he would set his teeth and let his engine out to the last notch to pass the man in front, a blind seemed to shut down in front of him, or a little red figure would appear stretched on the track ahead, and he would let the chance slip by. Consequently, when he returned to give exhibitions at the Devil’s Soup-plate, he was no nearer the white southern garage of his dreams than he had been the previous season. And the life of a speed-man is short,--much shorter, as a rule, than that of a boxing champion.