He took after Noddy and caught him just as the bully was about to enter the office. But one thought flashed through Jerry’s mind. He must beat Noddy.
He drew back his fist and, with a powerful blow that caught the bully right on the chin, sent him sprawling away from the doorway and into the dusty street.
“I want to file this claim,” panted Jerry, an instant later, handing the astonished Government clerk the proof Nestor had made out. The boy had done the only thing possible under the circumstances to enable him to get into the office. He had knocked Noddy aside and gone in ahead of him, winning by the margin of a second.
The commotion caused by the two automobiles racing into town, the conduct of the two boys, and Jerry’s action had attracted quite a crowd about the assay office. People fairly filled the rough shack in which the agents of Uncle Sam did business, and the claim clerk was so startled by the suddenness of the whole transaction that he stood motionless.
“Aren’t you going to file and record that claim?” asked Jerry, looking out of the window and seeing Noddy limp to his feet.
“I—I don’t know—of course I am—that is——”
“He isn’t goin’ to do anythin’ until I have somethin’ to say,” interrupted a rough voice. “I’m sheriff of this county, an’ I’d have you automobilists know that you can’t come here lickity split an’ not pay the damage. I’ll arrest you both for exceedin’ the speed limits.”
“What is the legal limit?” asked Jerry, anxious only about getting his paper filed.
“Seventy miles an hour.”
“My machine can’t make over fifty if I was to run it at full speed on a beach track,” replied Jerry, hotly.