His last wager, laid just before the time of the three mile race, was with Paul Banner. “Polly,” the boys called him, for young Banner aspired to be what, a few years ago, was called a dude. He was fond of dressing in the height of fashion, and liked to be thought a sport. He had a small income, did not work, and spent most of his time at the athletic club.
“I’ll give you odds of two to one against the favorite in this race,” said Noddy to Paul.
“And who’s the favorite?” asked Paul.
“Jerry Hopkins,” replied Noddy. “Come, what do you say? Two to one he doesn’t win.”
“You’re on. For how much?”
“I’ll lay you one hundred dollars to fifty dollars,” said Noddy.
“Done,” assented Paul, and he made a memorandum of the wager.
At last, after several events had been run off, during which our heroes had been busy undoing the mischief worked to their wheels, the time came for the race that meant so much to them. The announcer gave the word. Ned, Bob and Jerry hastened around to the track entrance. Noddy and Jack, with their wheels, were a few seconds behind them.
“Well, they’re on hand, I see,” whispered Noddy.