“Right as a fiddle, come high-diddle,” recited Pete.
“Hark! What’s that?” asked Chunky suddenly. “Sounds like an announcement.”
The three boys ran nearer the grand stand where the official announcer stood. The man was using a small megaphone and went on to say that there had been a slight change in the program, and that the race for those who had never been in a contest before would be the first number instead of the third.
“Great Scott, Chunky! That’ll mean you’ll have to hustle for all you’re worth!” cried Jerry. “Here, get your wheel out, strip off your sweater and 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 pulling his sweater over his head. Then, cautioning Pete to keep a strict look-out, the three boys ran with Bob to the track entrance.
They were only just in time, and found a lot of other contestants ahead of them. Bob received his number, and then, for the first time, thought of his wheel.
“Just spin it for me, to see if it don’t need a drop more of oil,” Bob asked Jerry. “My hands shake so I can’t undo the tool bag.”
Obligingly Jerry spun the wheels. The rubber-tired circle went around swiftly 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.