The two racers took their places, hugged by a couple of men at the saddles.
"All ready?" Bang!
Matt was hurled down the track. For the first time since he had left Clip and Penny his feet were busy, more than busy.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
MOTOR MATT, KING OF THE WHEEL!
There have been walkaways and walkaways, but never before such a walkaway as King had over O'Day, the crack cyclist from Prescott. For Matt all that had gone before seemed only to have paved the way for the best that was in him. He was "on his toes" every second, and left O'Day at the quarter; at the half O'Day was twice the length of his wheel behind and pedaling like mad; at the three-quarters O'Day was hopelessly in the rear and working his feet in a mechanical way, merely as a matter of duty. Matt crossed the tape a winner by fifteen feet and Prescott put its head in its hands and groaned.
Phœnix swarmed down from the grand stand and tumbled over fences all around the oval. The Phœnix high-school boys charged down upon the victor, yanked him off his machine, took him on their shoulders and galloped up and down the track.
"'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! Do or die!
Phœnix! Phœnix! Phœnix High!"
Prescott made up its mind it had better go home. The special train left at six, anyway, and the bicycle-race closed the list of events. Phœnix was a winner on points, although losing the one-mile sprint on account of the absence of Clipperton, one of the shorter dashes and the hammer-throw.