Around and around the track the riders went. They took the turns at dangerous speed, and one man had a spill that put him out of the contest. Another burst a tire and had to withdraw. Ned managed to pass one of the men in front of him, but by that time some one had come up from the rear, and he still found himself third.
Suddenly, as he passed the judges’ stand, he heard a revolver shot, and saw a red flag waved. It indicated that there were two laps more.
On the eight riders swept like the wind, and, a quarter of a mile from the finish, one of the riders in front of Ned began to slacken speed. His batteries had failed at the last moment, and Ned rushed past him, a good second in the first squad.
“Fine!” exclaimed Jerry as he and Bob rushed up to congratulate him. “I only hope I do as well!”
“I want to see you do better,” said Ned.
Little time was lost in getting the second detachment off. Again the explosions sounded and the air was rent with cheers. Jerry had secured a good start, but he had not made more than two laps before he was aware that a plan to get him into a pocket was being made. He tried to avoid it but he was pitted against racers of skill, most of them grown men.
Once inside the fatal “V” shaped formation of riders Jerry gave the race up for lost. His machine was going almost at top speed. He managed to get directly behind the fourth man in the left leg of the “V,” and hung there, hoping some chance might offer. He knew he could make a good record if he was allowed to escape.
Then, when there was but a mile of the race left, there came a chance. The man behind whom he was riding burst a tire. He fell from his machine and there would have been a serious smash-up had not Jerry quickly and skillfully turned aside, shot through the gap made by the missing fourth rider, and, swinging away from the pole a bit, taken his place second from the leader. Jerry threw his motor on to full speed. The man in the lead had his there already.
Jerry was hopeful. There was one lap more and his machine was working like a charm. He was but ten feet behind the leader, whose cycle was working to the limit, and Jerry saw that he was slowly but surely forging ahead.
Then one of those things happened that come so unexpectedly and so inexplainably to gasolene motors. Jerry’s suddenly refused to work. The explosions ceased. He worked the pedals frantically, but it was of no use. The batch of riders swept past him, and he saw with regret and chagrin that he was distanced.