Ned and Bob agreed that it would be the very thing needed. Accordingly the next morning, early, saw the three boys at the track of the Cresville Athletic Club. Though it was little more than eight o’clock the chums found about a dozen riders with their motors “warming-up” on the banked oval. The explosions of the numerous gasolene engines sounded like a miniature battle.
“If any one challenges you to a little sprint, accept it,” said Jerry to Ned and Bob, “but don’t attempt to win.”
“Why not?” asked Ned, always ready to take sides.
“Tell you later,” was all Jerry had time to say, for just then two young men rode up to our heroes.
“What do you fellows say to a little sprint for a few miles around the track,” inquired one young man, who wore a blue sweater.
“Just a practice warm-up,” put in the other, who was attired in a pair of pink racing trousers. “It’s rather dull going around this way, you know.”
“We don’t mind a little race,” said Jerry. “Just for fun, however.”
“Of course. What sort of a start do you prefer, flying or from a standstill?”
“Flying will suit us,” Ned put in.
“All right. Come on, we’ll ride around once together, line up at the judge’s stand, and make a four-mile circuit.”