CHAPTER IX.
NO. 13.
Nothing will rack the nerves of a superstitious man like the number"13." Taking a car out on Friday was as nothing compared to drivinga car with such a hoodoo number. Glick had balked, but he did notentertain any hard feelings toward Matt for engaging to drive the carin his stead.
When Matt left the hotel next morning and started for the garage tomeet Mr. Trueman, Glick met him and walked part of the distance at hisside.
"Maybe you'll think I'm a fool," said he, lighting a cigarette, "andI know Trueman does, but I've seen too much of this Number Thirteenbusiness to have anything to do with a car that's marked up for a dozenand one. That car of Trueman's hasn't a ghost of a show to finish thecourse, say nothing of making a win. It'll go to smash, and if you'rein it you'll go to smash, too. Take my advice and keep away from it."
"The number doesn't bother me," laughed Matt, "and I'm only too glad toget the chance to drive in the race."
"Well," sighed Glick, "I'm sorry for you, King. You won't have any hardfeelings toward me if the car puts you in the hospital?"
"Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Matt. "I was afraid you might haveit in for me for taking the car."
"Not at all," said Glick heartily. "I admire your nerve, but I thinkyour judgment is mighty poor. I wouldn't get into that car in this racefor five thousand dollars."
When Glick left Matt the latter hurried on. Trueman was waiting at thegarage, and he caught the lad's hand in a cordial grip.
"Glick went back on me sooner than I had expected," said he. "When hequit, yesterday afternoon, he told me that if the drawing hadn't beenon Friday I wouldn't have got Number Thirteen. What an idiot! Thereare twenty-one cars in the race and some one had to have that number.My hopes are all wrapped up in you, King. If you want a start in theracing business, win the cup for the Jarrot folks."
"If the car has the speed, and no accident happens to the motor, we'llwin," declared Matt. "I'll watch the other twenty cars and find outjust which ones we have to fear. Now we'll go over the course and begina practical study of it."
"Where's your Dutch friend?" inquired Trueman as they left the garage.
"He's keeping track of some other friends of mine," laughed Matt, "whowould like to sidetrack me and put me out of the running."
Then, as they rode through town, across the bridge and to thepark, Matt told of his troubles with Sercomb and his friends, andhow trickery had prevented him from getting in the race for theStark-Frisbie people. Matt felt that Trueman should know all aboutthat phase of the matter, and he went into it in detail. To hissurprise Trueman reached over and grabbed his hand.
"You're just the fellow to make a showing in this race, King," said heearnestly, "and, speaking from a selfish point of view, I wouldn't haveyour personal relations any different. Sercomb is the fellow you'llhave to beat, for he's Stark-Frisbie's crack man, and Stark-Frisbiehave a car in this race that's going to walk away from all three ofBly-Lambert's. The surest way for you to down Sercomb, and give himhis due, is by beating him; it's the only way, too, for you to proveto Colonel Plympton that the deal Sercomb says you made with theBly-Lambert people is all moonshine. Sercomb has run losing races forthe last three years, but this year Plympton has given him a car that'sthe fastest thing on wheels--excepting our own Number Thirteen."
"If it's in this car, Mr. Trueman," answered Matt with a flash ofresolution, "I'll be the first man over the tape at the end of the lastround."
Reaching the park and the race track, Matt drove the car to theposition from which the start was to be made. Halfway around the trackthey went to a place where a section of the high board fence had beenremoved. Here the course led out of the park grounds and struck into alevel sweep of road that led toward the river. Where the road turned tofollow the river bank a sharp curve had to be negotiated. After that,for some four or five miles, the road wound easily through the trees.
"You may have trouble here, King," said Trueman. "When the dust isthick and racing-cars are ahead and behind you, it would be the easiestthing in the world to swerve a shade too far and butt into a tree."
"We'll have to look out for that," replied Matt, his keen eyes watchingevery part of the way as they went along.
There was another hard turn where the course left the river road, butfrom that on there were twenty miles of level prairie, with packedearth like asphalt under the wheels. The car reeled off sixty miles anhour on this stretch, and would hardly have overturned a glass of waterplaced on the flat top of the hood.
The end of the twenty miles brought them to a village called Le Loup.Here the road bent to the north and east and climbed a long low hill,gradually changing its course to the south. Just over the hill was acollection of shanties near a coal mine, and known locally by the nameof Coal Run.
From Coal Run back to the break in the park fence, the course was southand west, splendid going all the way. When the track was reached Mattlet the car out on the way to the starting point. At that place thefirst accident happened, and the left-hand chain flew off, hurtlingthrough the air for fifty feet and landing in the paddock.
Matt brought the car to a halt without accident, found the chain,brought it back and adjusted it with a fresh link.
We'll have to get on a new set of chains," frowned Trueman. An accidentlike that during the race might put us out of it."
"Accidents are always liable to happen," said Matt. "If they come we'llhave to make the best of them."
They went over the course a second time, Matt forcing the car andbringing it in in sixty-five minutes from the start.
"You'll do!" declared Trueman. "I feel a whole lot easier with you inthe car than I ever felt with Glick. Now let's go back to the garage.We've done enough for one morning."
"How many men are there at the garage in charge of the car?" asked Matt.
"Two--the best we have in the St. Louis works."
"You can depend on them?"
"Every time and all the time. Why?"
"The car must be watched night and day, Mr. Trueman," said Mattearnestly, "for there's no telling what Sercomb and his gang might tryto do."
"They're not afraid of the Jarrot cars, King," returned Trueman. "Wehaven't cut much of a figure in these Western races so far."
"Well, you're going to cut a big figure in this race, Mr. Trueman, forit's my opinion you have the car to do it."
For a week after that Matt went over the circuit every morning,studying it thoroughly. Having a retentive memory, he came to knowevery part of it as he knew his two hands. Sometimes Mr. Trueman wentwith him, and once Carl went along. But one trip was enough for Carl.The way Matt hurled the car through the air gave the Dutch boy anexperience that he never forgot. Carl made up his mind that he'd ratherhear the racing talk than take part in the race itself.
In one respect, the Number Thirteen bore out its unlucky significance,for Matt did not make a trial ride around the circuit that somethingdid not go wrong, and several times he averted a bad accident only byhis quickness and presence of mind.
On one ride the feed-pipe between the gasoline-tank and the carburetorbecame clogged, and he had to disconnect it and clean it; another timea tire blew up; and again, it was the chain, once more flying off andmissing his head by an uncomfortably narrow margin. The car certainlyseemed to be working through a very severe case of "hoodoo."
Mr. Trueman was vastly exercised over these mishaps. He was beginningto feel as though there was something radically wrong about the car'sconstruction, and that its chance of running well in the race, saynothing of winning, was decreasing to the vanishing point.
But Matt was not greatly disturbed.
"We're having all our troubles during the trials, Mr. Trueman," heexplained, "and when the race comes we'll go over the course the sixtimes without a hitch. Stage people say that when the last dressrehearsal goes badly the first performance is always sure to gosmoothly."
Although Trueman admired Matt's spirit, for his own part he stillcontinued
dubious.
During Matt's week of hard, gruelling work, fortune was kind to him inone respect, for Sercomb and his friends left him severely alone. Forone thing, every driver in the race had his hands full and found notime to give attention to anything else.
Sercomb, Mings, and Packard, driving Stark-Frisbie machines, had afriendly rivalry among themselves. Each wanted to drive his car tovictory for the bonus which the victor was to receive, and they wereattending strictly to business and learning all the ins and outs of thecourse. Their dislike of Matt and their desire to get the better of himseemed to be thrust aside by the weightier affairs connected with therace.
Several times, while he was going around the course, Matt eitherpassed or was passed by one or the other of his enemies, but each andall of them ignored him completely.
Matt was well content to let the matter rest in that way.
Nearly every time Sercomb, Mings or Packard passed him, Matt wastinkering with the Jarrot car. The Stark-Frisbie drivers wrapped himin their dust and must have chuckled over the difficulties in which hefound himself.
The day of the race was set for Tuesday. Saturday night Matt came inwearily from the garage, washed the grime of dust and oil from his faceand hands, talked a few moments with Carl, and went up to bed.
Half an hour later he rang for a pitcher of water. Carl was loungingaround the office when the bellboy carried the pitcher upstairs. HadCarl dreamed what was to happen to Matt because of that innocent littlesupply of drinking-water, he would have taken the pitcher from the boyand carried it up himself.
Motor Matt's enemies were not ignoring him entirely. They were stayingat the same hotel, and, as Carl sized the situation up afterward, theywere staying there for the purpose which they finally accomplished.That their evil designs did not keep Matt out of the race was becausethey overreached themselves by hastening the nefarious plot. Had theywaited just a few hours longer, the great race for the Borden cup wouldhave had an altogether different termination.
Nevertheless, the blow, when it fell, came with amazing suddenness;and it seemed so completely successful, and the hand dealing it was socunningly hidden, that Carl was as deeply bewildered as he was filledwith despair.