“Can you run it?” asked Ned eagerly.
“Yes, I can run it all right, but he might not like it.”
“Not like it! He’d be tickled to death, Thompson. He said coming down that he wished I could take the car to the finish and get him there. He was going to telephone home and have the chauffeur come and do it, but he didn’t have time. If you can run her, Thompson, do your worst.”
“All right. Can you crank her for me? My knee’s still sort of wobbly.”
“I’m the original cranker,” responded Ned, leaping out. “All right? Let her go!”
Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, said the big car. And a minute later it was running softly along the road, Arthur at the wheel. It required some manipulation to get the car berthed near the finish line, for Broadwood and Yardley were there in force and resented yielding a foot of ground. Ned finally solved the problem by taking down the bars of a fence and Arthur “parked” the car in somebody’s meadow.
There was still some time to wait, for the four-mile course was a fairly difficult one, one part of it, about three-quarters of a mile long, being over the fields. While they waited Arthur, in response to a question from Kendall, explained the conditions of the contest. There were, he said, ten runners on each team, of which the first eight to finish counted in the result. The first man over the line counted one point for his team, the second man two points, the third man three points, and so on, the team scoring the lowest total winning the race.
“There isn’t much doubt but that we’ll win,” he said. “The main interest in the race lies in the struggle for first honors. Crossett of Broadwood, Gerald and Sherwood of our team, are out for those. I think Gerald ought to beat Crossett, but whether he can get away from Sherwood is another matter. Goodyear may show up better than he’s been doing, too. He got first place last year. Hiltz may get into the front, too.”
“That roommate of yours is running, isn’t he?” asked Ned.