He got out again and showed Betsy the two small, recurved nozzles that came from under the car and ran into the holes he’d been playing the torch into. “Feel,” he said, running a finger across one of the nozzles.

Betsy complied, but yanked her hand away from the strong, fine spray. “What’s that, water?”

“No, gasoline.”

Betsy sniffed her fingertip and was shocked to realize Lars was right. “You mean it just sprays out in the open like that?”

“Sure. It has to mix with the air as it goes into those two holes.”

“That can’t be safe!” exclaimed Jill. “Spraying gasoline like that, you’ll get a vapor that will explode.”

“No, you get a vapor that will burn,” said Lars.

“Why doesn’t it mix in the cylinder-” Betsy stopped.

“Because then it would be an internal combustion engine,” Lars confirmed with a grin.

Suddenly a low, eerie whooooooooooo began to sound from the car. Jill grabbed Betsy by the arm and ran her out of the barn. When they looked around and Lars wasn’t behind them, Jill shouted, “Get out! Get out! It’s going to blow!”

“No, it isn’t!” called Lars, his voice filled with laughter. “It’s called singing! She sings when she’s building a head of steam!”

“Cool!” said Betsy, shrugging her elbow loose from Jill’s grip. She would have gone back, but Jill took her by the arm again.

Lars came out to the doorway. “Soon as we get to four hundred and fifty pounds of pressure, we can head on down the road.”

“Four hundred and fifty pounds!” Jill exclaimed, then murmured in Betsy’s ear, “Don’t go, don’t go.”

But Betsy again shrugged free and this time did go back inside to watch as Lars continued the process of starting up, tapping a gauge on the dashboard, pumping up the gasoline, nodding as he checked his owner’s manual; and was reassured by the big man’s happy confidence. After all, he’d gone through all this just a couple of days ago, and surely he’d notice if things were going differently. Right?