“I’ll fix them, though,” muttered Jack, letting up on his speed, which had kept him beside Noddy, and dropping back a little to the rear.
Aside from the three chums, and Noddy and Jack, there was no interest in the race, for the other seven contestants were hopelessly in the rear. Bob and Ned were on even terms, with Jerry somewhat ahead of them.
“Go on, Jerry!” called Ned. “Beat the big bully!”
“Don’t either of you fellows drop out!” pleaded Jerry. “Try to win. You’ve as good a chance as I.”
And then Jerry gave his attention to the task before him. It was no light one. However, he, as did the other two boys, felt the bicycles to be in good order in spite of the attempts at foul play. They were all riding well.
Noddy’s advantage in age, his better muscular development, gave him a big lead, however, and for the first mile the gap between him and Jerry was scarcely shortened. Jack still hung on to his comrade’s rear, ready to play another dastardly trick when opportunity offered.
During the second mile it was plain to all that Noddy was petering out. His head bent lower over the handle bars, and foam, like white cotton, could be seen on his lips.
“I’m almost all in!” he gasped to Jack.
“Keep up a little longer!” entreated Jack. “You’ll win! Why, you’ve got to win!”
And, to save himself in more ways than one, Noddy felt he must succeed. But how to do it was the question. His heart was beating like a trip-hammer, and his head felt as if it would burst.