"Look at who—what?"
"Why that was one of the racing cars," said Jiminy. "They are tuning up for the big races to-day. Guess it was a foreign car from the racket it made. All the mufflers off. Couldn't make out just which car it was though. Going so fast it looked just like a gray streak. I—"
"Bnr-r-r-r-r bumpety-boom-boom-boom-b a n g bang-bang!"
"Whoopee-e-e, here's another one," screamed Jiminy.
The ten scouts rushed to the front door of the building, ignoring the fact that they were clad only in pajamas and night shirts, and waved to the passing racer.
"Cracky, look at him tear up the beach," exclaimed Bruce.
"Rather early in the morning to risk one's neck, eh? It's only four o'clock. Guess they are doing their last tuning up before the events start," said Jiminy.
"Say, how do they race?" asked fat Babe Wilson. "Do they line 'em up like a lot of sprinters and start 'em when a pistol is fired?"
"Well, they may do some match racing tomorrow, but to-day I think they will hold their time trials. They will race to see who can make the best time over the course," said Jiminy.
"How fast can they go?" asked Ray Martin.