“Noddy must have a new car,” remarked Ned. “His old one couldn’t go for a cent. We beat it several times.”
“What’s the matter with trying again?” asked Jerry, a light of excitement coming into his eyes. “I’d like to have a race. Maybe several cars will enter, and we can have some fun out of it. Our machine has a lot of ‘go’ left in it yet.”
“That’s the stuff!” exclaimed Bob. “I’m with you. But let’s get supper first, maybe—”
“I guess he’s afraid there won’t be any left,” remarked Jerry. “But come on, I can eat a bit myself.”
As the boys left the office of the hotel, they saw several men reading the notice Noddy had tacked up.
“A race on this circular track here!” exclaimed one man to a friend as the boys passed him. “It’s very risky! The turns are not banked enough. I wouldn’t do it, but I suppose some will take the chance.”
“Yes, it will be a dangerous race,” responded the other. “Who is this Noddy Nixon?”
“A son of that rich Nixon over in Cresville, I believe. His father made a lot of money in stocks lately, and, I guess the son is helping spend it. He has a powerful car.”
The motor boys did not stay to hear more, but went to their rooms to change their clothes, and were soon eating supper. There was talk of nothing but automobile topics in the hotel corridors and office that evening. Many motorists were planning to leave the next day, but some said they would stay and see if the Nixon race would amount to anything.
“Let’s accept the challenge,” suggested Jerry.