“Yes, I can see no objection to that,” replied the latter, “what day shall we have the race?”
“How would a week from today suit you?”
“Let me see, that will be Tuesday, won’t it? I guess that will be satisfactory to all concerned. How do you boys feel about it?”
They voiced a unanimous assent to these arrangements, and both sides started discussing the various chances and possibilities of the contest, but with perfect good humor and friendly feeling.
It was now getting late, however, and the discipline of the camps could not be too much relaxed, even in the face of such an important event as this. Accordingly, hearty farewells were exchanged, and the visitors climbed into their big gray car.
All the boys gathered around expectantly to note the behavior of the car when it started, and it must be admitted that even Bert Wilson’s expert eye could find no defect in the handling or running of the rival machine. Ralph started it smoothly and without a jerk, and soon all they could see of it was the angry gleam of its red tail-light.
As they turned away to prepare for sleep, Jim remarked: “Aw, I bet we’ll have a walkover in that race.”
Bert knew better, however, and was convinced that he would have to use every ounce of power that the “Red Scout” possessed to beat the “Gray Ghost.” But one thing he was sure of, and that was that whoever won it was going to be a mighty close race. He did not make the mistake of underrating his rival, as so many boys in his position would have done, but made up his mind to do the very best he could, right from the start.
For a long time he stood staring at the “Red Scout,” and then raised its shining hood and patted the spotless cylinders.