CHAPTER III.
THE DAY OF THE RACES.
At last came the day for the races. It was early in July, and theweather though warm, was not oppressive. Early in the morning a bigcrowd started out toward the grounds of the Cresville Athletic Club,which were about a mile outside of the town proper.
Ned, Bob and Jerry reached the track about ten o'clock, and found itpretty well occupied.
"It will give us good practice in wheeling in a crowd," observed Jerryas he stripped off his sweater and, in regular racing costume, began tomake the circuits.
His two friends soon followed his example. A little later Noddy and Jackarrived. The two cronies kept to themselves and spoke no word to ourthree heroes.
About noon-time there was a general stopping and all the contestants whowere warming up went to get something to eat. Under Jerry's advice Nedand Bob ate and drank sparingly.
The races were to begin at two o'clock. Long before that hour most ofthe best seats were filled, and there was a crowd on the way to theathletic grounds that would tax the capacity of the bleachers.
About half-past one o'clock a rather gaunt individual might have beenseen making his way toward the athletic grounds. He wore a pair ofpatched trousers and a green coat, with a red patch on either elbow.
"Hi there!" called some boys. "Look at the hobo going to enter theraces."
"Oh, I may be a hobo, but I'm not a dodo; put that in your pipe andsmoke it till night. That ain't a good rhyme, but it'll do this time,"recited the man in a sing-song tone.
"Ha! Ha! Isn't he funny!" laughed some small boys.
Hearing the sound of laughter Ned, Bob and Jerry, who were walkingtogether in the fields, a short distance away from the athletic grounds,came over.
"Why it's Old Pete!" cried Bob. "Hello Pete! I say, Old Pete Bumps!" hecalled, waving his hand to the man with a green coat and a red patch oneither elbow.
"Oh, I say, is that you, why how do you do?" said Mr., otherwise OldPete Bumps, who was a general man of all work about Mr. Baker's place.He did everything from feeding the chickens to taking out the ashes.
"Hello Pete!" called Jerry and Ned in chorus. "What did you come for?Are you going to race?"
"Am I going to race? Well not in this place," replied Pete gravely."I came to watch over you boys. Be a sort of general overseer as itwere. Look after the wheels and see that they get full meals," he addedwithout a smile.
From which it may be inferred that Mr. Bumps was something of acharacter.
Indeed at one time he had been a well educated man. But an injury to hishead, caused by a fall, and a number of misfortunes, had displaced himfrom a life of comparative wealth, and had made him a sort of foolish,though very loving, elderly man. Mr. Baker had taken pity on him andmade a place for him, for which poor Old Pete Bumps, as he calledhimself, was very grateful. He was very fond of children, especiallyboys, and was always looking after the interests of Bob and his chums.
"Now Pete can look after our wheels," said Bob. "I was wondering who wecould leave in charge between the heats, and while we were dressing.He'll be the very one."
"Surely will I, e'en though I die," said Pete gravely, for he had ahabit of making extemporaneous rhymes on all occasions, which jinglessometimes fitted and sometimes did not.
"All right, Pete," said Bob. "Come on over here," and he led the hiredman to where the boys had left their three wheels in charge of a lad oftheir acquaintance, who had agreed to stand guard at the rate of fivecents a half hour. Pete gravely squatted down on the grass near thebicycles.
Relieved of the responsibility of guarding their mounts, the trio oflads wandered about the grounds of the club. There was much bustleand excitement. New riders were constantly arriving and going out onthe track to warm up. Hundreds of spectators were coming afoot, or incarriages or automobiles. Flags waved gaily in the wind, and the wholescene was a spirited one. A bevy of girls coming up the road that led tothe entrance of the grounds attracted the attention of our three heroes.
"Looks like my sister Susie with that red dress on," said Bob.
"And that seems to be Julia, in that green hat," observed Jerry. "Yes,that's her," he went on. "I can tell by her laugh," he added, as amerry peal floated over the green field.
"Who are the girls with them?" asked Ned, who had no sisters, but whowas as fond of girls as they were of him.
"There's Mollie Horton, who lives near me," said Ned. "She's jollyenough. And Alice Vines. I don't know who the other one is."
"That's Helen Gale," put in Bob. "I know her. She made that silk flagwith our foot-ball colors on last year for me."
"Good for her!" exclaimed Ned.
The girls soon came up, and there was merry talk for a little while. Theboys wanted to take the girls over and buy some ice-cream sodas.
"We haven't time," objected Julia. "We want to get our seats before theraces begin. We don't want to miss a one."
"You won't miss anything," assured Ned.
"Oh but we might," interposed Alice. "And it is not every day we cancome to such a big event as this. If you boys want to get the sodasafterward--"
"Of course we will," broke in Jerry. And so they agreed to treat thegirls after the races.
Not long after Pete had been left in charge of the cycles a man,wearing a slouch hat, who had been but a few minutes before in closeconsultation with Jack Pender, shuffled up to where Pete was lying inthe grass.
"Arternoon, mate," said the roughly dressed man in a growling voice.
"How do you do, I'm glad to see you," replied Pete, in his sweetesttones.
"What yer givin' us?" demanded the stranger.
"Me? I gave you nothing, sir," replied Pete.
"Come off your high perch then, an' talk United States," went on thestranger gruffly. "My name's Bill Berry, what's yours?"
"My name's Pete Bumps, I'm full of humps," recited Pete gravely.
"You look it," commented Bill Berry. "But I say, mate," he went on, "howwould you like to go off and get a good smoke? Come, I'll pay for it?"
"I'd like it first rate, but I must stay here quite late," said Pete.
"Why so? Oh, I don't know," mocked Bill, falling into the eccentric moodof his companion.
"To guard the wheels against the steals," replied Pete.
"Don't let that worry you," went on Bill, eagerly. "I'll stay here. Yougo get yourself something to smoke, and take your time. I'll standguard while you're away."
If there was one thing more than another that Old Pete liked, it was tosmoke. Usually he had to forego this pleasure because of lack of funds.Now here was a chance to indulge. So, after receiving twenty-five centsfrom Bill Berry, Pete started over to the grand stand, near which was abooth where cigars and refreshments were sold.
Bill looked narrowly about as soon as Pete was out of sight. There wereplenty of people around him, but no one seemed to be noticing what hewas doing. Quickly Bill pulled a wrench from his pocket and used it oneach of the three bicycles. Then he brought out a stick of somethingblack.
"This graphite is well doctored," he muttered. "I guess it won't behealthy for the chains."
He rubbed a liberal supply on the chain of each wheel, and also on thesprockets. Then he rapidly opened the tool bags on each machine, tookout the graphite he found there, and substituted some of his own.
"I guess that will do the trick," he said softly. "And I guess I'veearned my two dollars, Jack Pender."
He hurried off, mingled with the crowd, and a little later was inconversation with Jack Pender.
A little later Pete came hurrying back. He was smoking a cheap cigar,and his pockets bulged with others.
"Here you go, Bill, now smoke with a will," began Pete, when he drewnear where he had left his new friend in charge of the boys' bicycles."Why, he's gone," he went on, seeing the deserted mounts. "Wonder wherehe went?" However, he did not give much thought to it, and went onsmoking happily.
"Wheels all right?" asked Ned a few minutes after, as he, Jerry and
Bobcame up.
"Right as a fiddle, come high-diddle," recited Pete.
"Hark! What's that?" asked Chunky suddenly. "Sounds like anannouncement."
The three boys ran nearer the grand stand where the official announcerstood. The man was using a small megaphone and went on to say that therehad been a slight change in the program, and that the race for those whohad never been in a contest before would be the first number instead ofthe third.
"Great Scott, Chunky! That'll mean you'll have to hustle for all you'reworth!" cried Jerry. "Here, get your wheel out, strip off your sweaterand get around to the track entrance and have your number pinned on."
Jerry grabbed up his chum's wheel, while Ned assisted the lad in pullinghis sweater over his head. Then, cautioning Pete to keep a strictlook-out, the three boys ran with Bob to the track entrance.
They were only just in time, and found a lot of other contestants aheadof them. Bob received his number, and then, for the first time, thoughtof his wheel.
"Just spin it for me, to see if it don't need a drop more of oil," Bobasked Jerry. "My hands shake so I can't undo the tool bag."
Obligingly Jerry spun the wheels. The rubber-tired circle went aroundswiftly for several turns, and then came a sudden slowing down.
"That's funny," remarked Bob. "I had that all adjusted this noon."
Jerry bent down and looked at the bearings.
"The cones have been tightened," he announced. "Why I can feel thefriction," and he moved the front wheel slowly with his hands.
"Try the back wheel!" urged Ned.
Holding that clear of the ground Jerry spun it by placing his foot onthe pedal. There was a woeful squeak, and, after a few revolutions thatwheel, too, slowed down. Jerry rubbed his finger over the sprocketchain. It came away black from the graphite, but mingled with theblackness were many shining specks.
Just then there came the crack of a revolver.
"That means three minutes to the start," cried Bob. "What will I do? Ican't fix the wheel in that time!"
"Some one's put iron filings in the graphite," announced Jerry, rubbingthe stuff between his fingers. "There's trickery here!"
"And I'll lose the race!" cried Bob. "I know I have a good chance ofwinning!"
"Let me get my wheel!" exclaimed Ned.
"It wouldn't do any good," interposed Jerry. "We haven't time to runafter them. Besides, the chances are our wheels are doctored too."
"All ready, boys!" warned the starter. "Minute and a half more beforethe final gun!"
"I might as well quit," cried Bob.
"Don't you do it!" said some one suddenly at his side. "Here, you takemy wheel. It's a racer, and I've just oiled it."
As he spoke a boy, of about thirteen years, who had a slight acquaintancewith our three heroes, shoved a handsome new wheel over toward Bob.
"Oh, thank you, Sam Morton," said Bob. "But don't you want it yourself?"
"Not a bit," said Sam. "I'm not going to race. Take the wheel."
"All right, I will," assented Bob. "And I'll square things with youafterward, Sam. Some one has doctored mine. I--"
But Bob did not have time to say any more.
"Half a minute!" warned the starter.
"Get on the track!" cried Jerry.
"Line up! Do your best and win!" counseled Ned.
"I will!" shouted back Bob, and the next instant he was lined up withthe others, waiting for the pistol shot that would start them off.
"Crack!"
A little puff of smoke, a sliver of flame, and a slight report. Then thewhirr of rubber tires on the track sounded like the wind rushing throughthe trees.
The race, while it was of much interest to the contestants and theirfriends, was not very important to the general public. It was only amile sprint and there were ten starters.
Bob's heart beat wildly at first and his wheel wobbled from side toside. Then the fever of fear left him. He saw that he was not being leftbehind and he picked up courage. He shut his teeth tightly, took a longbreath, and let out a burst of speed that carried him to within threeof the leader.
There was a cheer at this, which gave him new courage, and he struggledharder and harder. Gradually he passed two of those ahead of him. Therenow remained but one lad between himself and the lead. He gave one quickglance.
"It's Jack Pender," he thought. "I know he's been in races before. ButI'm going to beat him."
Once more Bob clenched his teeth and let out another burst of speed. Buthe had a good rider to contend against. Jack, looking behind and seeingthe boy he hated, redoubled his efforts.
The race was half done. Already several who had no chance had droppedout. The struggle was between Bob and Jack. Bob could hear the bandplaying, as if it was a mile away. He drew one long breath, threw intohis leg muscles another ounce of strength and then, with an effort thatsurprised even himself he found that he was on even terms with Jack.
"Confound you! What are you trying to do, beat me?" snapped Jack.
"That's what I am."
"Well, you're not going to!"
Jack gave his wheel a sudden turn. His intention was to upset Bob. Butthe latter was too quick for him.
"Foul! Foul!" cried several who had seen the attempt.
The two passed the post set an eighth of a mile from the finish, neckand neck. Bob could see that Jack was almost winded. As for Bob, thoughin distress he still had some reserve strength.
Then, with a last final burst of speed, with a frenzied effort that sentthe blood singing to his head, Bob passed his rival, and came under thetape a winner by two good lengths.
"Hurrah!" cried thousands.
"Hurrah!" cried Ned and Jerry, though Bob could not hear them.
And Bob, almost tumbling from his wheel, felt happier than he ever hadin his life before. He had won the race.
He could see Jack Pender scowling at him, but he did not mind that.
"I didn't know you were an amateur, Jack," Bob heard one of the toady'sfriends address him.
"I'm not any more," laughed Jack. "That was my last amateur race. I'mgoing in with the professionals on the next race, and I'm going to win."
"You are if we let you," was the response.