“And it won’t; but the roads are as good as any we shall have during the entire run. Our car will be—is now, in fact—in perfect shape. If we have any mechanical trouble, Billy, it won’t be on the first day. She can stand thirty miles an hour. We’ll carry our eats with us, and our biggest load will be gasoline. I don’t propose to stop but once a day to buy juice—make up your mind to that, Billy-boy!”
There was an element of chance in the race, however, which lent zest to it. An accident might make even the best of the cars fail to win laurels. Down to the evening before the start, and on the arrival of all of the contestants at the Compton Motordrome, no one could say surely which automobile, and which team, had the better chance of winning the golden cup.
The motordrome was gay with lights and red-fire. There were races, and speeches, and a big crowd assembled and remained all night to see the starting of the first cars. There was an all-night bicycle race for amateurs in which Biff Hardy and Wiley Moyle carried off the honors for the Riverdale Club; but although there were motorcycle races, too, the Speedwells decided to keep out of them. They could not afford to risk an accident.
And there was another thing Dan did not risk. When they left their Breton-Melville under the shed, to go to the big gate and watch the first cars get under way, Dan left somebody to watch the drab auto—and somebody whom he could trust.
The Speedwells stood in the crowd and saw the first cars get away in the light of the search-lamps. It was a cloudy morning and the string of autos up the straight road soon looked like so many glow-worms. When number seven rolled down to the starting line and the big placards were fastened on, fore and aft, Dan and Billy made off for a house where they had engaged a bed. They got five hours refreshing sleep and then had a most excellent breakfast.
When they went back to the motordrome at a few minutes past eleven, they found their father and mother and the children waiting for them. Mr. Speedwell had driven over and brought his boys a great box of lunch to carry in their car. He had engaged a man to help him with the milk routes while Dan and Billy were absent.
There were plenty of Riverdale folk to cheer for the Speedwells as they got away, too. Mildred Kent and Lettie Parker were in the Greenes’ auto and the girls wished the team handling number forty-eight the best of good luck as the drab car started.
The boys waved their caps as the Breton-Melville slid smoothly out of the motordrome gate and over the starter’s line. There was a big crowd in Compton now to watch the remaining cars get under way. The police kept the street open for some distance; then the road broadened and the houses became few and far between.
The shouts of the onlookers grew distant. The drab car began to purr like a great cat. Behind they saw number forty-nine thrusting its battleship prow out of a balloon of dust that traveled with it. Dan advanced the spark. Right before them was number forty-seven, that had started ten minutes earlier. The Breton-Melville, like a drab rocket, curved out for this car and passed it as though forty-seven was at a standstill!
The great race had begun, and Billy, in his heart, secretly counted the passing of this car as the first milestone on their way to victory.