“I feel like him!” cried Bob.
Little time was lost in notifying Mr. Wakefield of the boys’ decision.
“I’m glad you took that,” he said. “I know where I can get a fine, strong, serviceable touring car for the amount of the prize.”
“And will you order it at once?” asked Bob eagerly.
“By the next mail,” promised the instructor, with a laugh.
The three chums strolled down the main street of Cresville, their happiness showing on their faces. They passed the post-office, and Jerry happened to think of a letter his mother had given him to mail. He stepped inside and, after dropping the envelope in the slot, looked in the family box to see if there was any mail. There was one missive, and, when the clerk had handed it out, Jerry saw that it was addressed to himself. It was postmarked New York.
“I wonder who can be writing to me from there,” he said.
He tore open the envelope and took out a small folded paper. It bore no date and began abruptly.
“To Jerry, Ned and Bob: You cubs are responsible for me being an outcast. You drove me away from home, and forced me to come here. I will not forget it, and some day I shall square accounts. Look out for me! It will not be well if we meet. Noddy Nixon."