“Not if we were masked. Hurrah, that is the way to do it! We’ll wear masks and gowns, and scare him out of his wits—make him think the Whitecaps or Klu Klux Klan are after him.”
This proposal suited everybody, and the three boys decided to carry out their plan as soon after the bicycle race as possible.
The day for the proposed race dawned cloudily and up to noon the cadets were doubtful if they would be able to go out—it looked so much like rain. But by one o’clock the sun was shining brightly and their spirits revived.
Ten cadets who had wheels were sent out ahead, to station themselves about two miles apart on the course. They were to keep tally of every rider and see to it that nothing was done contrary to the rules laid down.
The contestants lined up in front of the Hall in fine style. Then came a pistol shot, and off they went in a manner that elicited much cheering.
“Hurrah! May the best rider win!”
“Take it easy, boys, twenty miles is a long distance to cover!”
So the cries ran on as the bicyclists sped down the roadway, their safeties gleaming brightly in the sunlight. Everybody was in fine condition, and the race promised to prove a spirited one. Each racer wore a blue sweater with the letters P. H. on the breast.
Jack, Andy and Pepper started in a bunch, directly after the leaders. Not far away were Ritter, Coulter and Paxton. They kept close behind our friends for all of a mile.
“I guess they want us to set the pace for them,” cried Pepper.