The mail bag delivery contest was one of several set for that day. There were only five entries, the Scout being among the number. Neither Dave nor Valdec were listed as principals, but one of the Syndicate machines had been entered.
It was in the Scout that its pilot had done his practicing and the Ariel was not called into service. A crew of two was apportioned to each machine competing and Dave of course was to take charge of the wheel.
“Looks like a game of basket ball,” remarked Hiram as they drove the Scout over to center field.
The grounds had a two mile circular track, being used on other occasions for motor contests. Around this, and at each corner of the grounds, poles twenty feet high had been set up. At the top of the poles were woven baskets about two feet deep and double that width at their flanging tops.
Poles and baskets were painted white and were conspicuous to the eye for a long distance. There were some twenty-five of these improvised postal stations. That number of bags was put in the cockpit of each machine. Each set was marked with a numeral, those on the Scout bearing the Brackett entrant number, which was five.
The bags had been furnished by the city post office people, were about two by four feet and filled each with twenty pounds of newspapers and old envelopes. The time limit on the stunt was one hour.
“It’s going to be interesting,” Mr. Brackett remarked to Bruce Beresford, who with him occupied an advantageous stall near the central stand.
“The crowd seems to think so,” replied Bruce. “It’s something new, and nearly everybody has a score card.”
Bruce himself was prepared to keep “tab” on the mail deliveries. One, three, five, nine and eleven were in commission, and the machines were sufficiently varied in construction and appearance to enable even a novice to identify them separately when in operation. There was valor and confidence in Hiram’s last hand wave.
“I hope the lad makes his points,” spoke Mr. Brackett.