If this had happened after his training had begun in real earnest, he would have averted his eyes from the spectacle, however alluring, and continued on his way without a pause. But now, as he had not yet settled down to genuine hard work, he felt justified in turning aside and looking into the matter. The fact that the chauffeur, who seemed to be a taciturn man, lacking the conversational graces, manifestly objected to an audience, deterred him not at all. One cannot have everything in this world, and the Kid and his attendant thick-necks were content to watch the process of mending the tire, without demanding the additional joy of sparkling small talk from the man in charge of the operations. "Guy's had a breakdown, sure," said the first of the thick-necks. "Surest thing you know," agreed his colleague. "Seems to me the tire's punctured," said the Kid. All three concentrated their gaze on the machine. "Kid's right," said thick-neck number one. "Guy's been an' bust a tire." "Surest thing you know," said thick-neck number two. They observed the perspiring chauffeur in silence for a while. "Wonder how he did that, now?" speculated the Kid. "Ran over a nail, I guess," said thick-neck number one. "Surest thing you know," said the other, who, while perhaps somewhat deficient in the matter of original thought, was a most useful fellow to have by one--a sort of Boswell. "Did you run over a nail?" the Kid enquired of the chauffeur. The chauffeur worked on, unheeding. "This is his busy day," said the first thick-neck, with satire. "Guy's too full of work to talk to us." "Deaf, shouldn't wonder," surmised the Kid. "Say, wonder what's he doing with a taxi so far out of the city." "Some guy tells him to drive him out here, I guess. Say, it'll cost him something, too. He'll have to strip off a few from his roll to pay for this." John glanced at Mr. Parker, quivering with excitement. It was his last chance. Would the Kid think to look inside the cab, or would he move on? Could he risk a shout? Mr. Parker leaned forward, and thrust the muzzle of the pistol against his body. The possibilities of the situation had evidently not been lost upon him. "Keep quiet," he whispered. Outside, the conversation had begun again, and the Kid had made his decision. "Pretty rich guy inside," he said, following up his companion's train of thought. "I'm going to rubber through the window." John met Mr. Parker's eye, and smiled.