"Maybe you'll think I'm a fool," said he, lighting a cigarette, "and I know Trueman does, but I've seen too much of this Number Thirteen business to have anything to do with a car that's marked up for a dozen and one. That car of Trueman's hasn't a ghost of a show to finish the course, say nothing of making a win. It'll go to smash, and if you're in it you'll go to smash, too. Take my advice and keep away from it."
"The number doesn't bother me," laughed Matt, "and I'm only too glad to get the chance to drive in the race."
"Well," sighed Glick, "I'm sorry for you, King. You won't have any hard feelings toward me if the car puts you in the hospital?"
"Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Matt. "I was afraid you might have it in for me for taking the car."
"Not at all," said Glick heartily. "I admire your nerve, but I think your judgment is mighty poor. I wouldn't get into that car in this race for five thousand dollars."
When Glick left Matt the latter hurried on. Trueman was waiting at the garage, and he caught the lad's hand in a cordial grip.
"Glick went back on me sooner than I had expected," said he. "When he quit, yesterday afternoon, he told me that if the drawing hadn't been on Friday I wouldn't have got Number Thirteen. What an idiot! There are twenty-one cars in the race and some one had to have that number. My hopes are all wrapped up in you, King. If you want a start in the racing business, win the cup for the Jarrot folks."
"If the car has the speed, and no accident happens to the motor, we'll win," declared Matt. "I'll watch the other twenty cars and find out just which ones we have to fear. Now we'll go over the course and begin a practical study of it."
"Where's your Dutch friend?" inquired Trueman as they left the garage.
"He's keeping track of some other friends of mine," laughed Matt, "who would like to sidetrack me and put me out of the running."