It was Sercomb who had prepared the two typewritten papers—one for Matt to read and the other for him to sign—which Slocum had juggled with so successfully in the Denver hotel; and it was Sercomb who had paid Slocum's fare and expenses to Kansas in order that, at the right moment, he might administer the cannibis indica.
On the basis of this confession, a warrant was issued for Sercomb but was to be held back and not served until just before he was to get away in the race. Also the whole matter dealing with Slocum's arrest and confession was kept a secret so that the arrest and removing from the contest of Stark-Frisbie's crack racer might be successfully accomplished.
This work of the police filled Trueman with a negative satisfaction. It did not help him out of his own particular difficulty for he was still minus a driver.
Chub who was so worked up over Matt's disappearance and his helplessness in doing anything to find him that he could not keep down his impatience and restlessness, offered to drive the car in Matt's place, or to ride as mechanic with whoever did drive it. Chub had taken lessons from Matt in driving a motor-car, and he had always been wonderfully handy about machinery.
Trueman, however, had made up his mind to drive the car himself, but he was glad to have Chub along to attend to the various duties of mecanicien.
While Chub had thus found something to do to take his mind temporarily away from Matt, Carl was in different condition. He moped around the hotel, filled with gloom and discouragement and waiting hopelessly for news.
The town was filled with an enthusiastic mob of people, and the only thing that was talked about, or thought about, was race, race, race! But Carl had lost interest in the race now that it seemed certain Matt was out of it. Chub had all he could do to get Carl to go to the Park when he and Trueman took out the red racer.
"Vat's der use oof going any blace or doing anyt'ing?" said Carl dejectedly. "Matt vas down und oudt mit a dope und life don'd vas vort' der lifing. Vell, meppy I go along mit you, Chub. I got to be somevere."
Although Trueman was a terribly disappointed man, and expected only to finish the course, and had no thought of winning, he made his preparations with as much care as though Matt was to be at the steering-wheel and perhaps drive No. 13 to victory. New tires and new chains were put on, and the hundred and one little things always demanded by a big race were attended to.
The grand stand at the Park was choked with people. Overflowing the seats, the throng packed itself densely along the fences on both sides of the race-track. But the crowds were not confined to the Ottawa end of the course. Over its whole extent from the Park to Le Loup, from Le Loup to Coal Run, and from Coal Run back to the Park again, the circuit was lined with people. They came from the contiguous country in wagons, from various parts of the state in automobiles, and from all over the West by train. The sportsman instinct animated the majority of them, and others had a morbid interest in an affair that might be filled with wreck and tragedy.