It was give and take. Such billing never had been seen along the
Kansas highway before. But, up to the present moment, the
Sparling crew had much the best of it.
"This won't do, boys; I have got to get back. I have no business here. Keep this right up. Don't lag for an instant. Is there a town near here?"
The driver informed Phil that there was one about a mile ahead of them.
Phil rode on until he reached it. Here he jumped out, taking a bundle of paper with him, ordering his men to drive on. With him he carried a bucket of paste and a brush.
Phil went to work like a seasoned billposter, plastering every old stable and tight board fence in the village. By the time the rival crews drove in there was little space left for them, and such spots as were left were all on back or side streets.
"I guess they will know we have been here," decided Phil. "Now I must find a way to get back to the car."
Inquiring at the post office he learned where he might be able to hire a rig.
Losing not a minute the boy hunted up the man who owned the horse, and, by offering to pay him about twice what the service was worth, got the fellow to take him back.
The journey back to town was executed in almost as good time as that which Phil had made in driving out. The rig rattled into town at a gallop, and Phil was landed on his car again, safe and sound after his exciting rides.
"Did you beat them," cried Teddy, as Phil drove up.