In a highly excited condition, Carl left the grand stand and went hunting for Mr. Trueman. He found him in a place reserved for the representatives of firms who had machines in the race.
"Misder Drooman," demanded Carl, "vat has peen going on, hey? I see dot Modor Matt iss in der car. How it come aboudt? Vas I treaming, oder vas it somepody vat looks like Matt und don'd vas him?"
"It's Motor Matt, all right, Carl," replied Trueman.
"Vere he come from?"
"Give it up. He blew in here just in time to take the car out for the start. He didn't have a chance to explain a thing."
"Ach, I feel so habby as I don'd know! Matt vas pack, some more, und he iss racing like vat he used to. Dere ain'd nodding wrong mit him."
"He's the best driver in the race, bar none," declared Trueman.
Plympton, who was watching events closely, overheard the remark and turned around.
"I agree with you, Trueman," said he heartily; "Motor Matt's a wonder. And to think, by gad, that this is his first race!"
Probably Colonel Plympton was sorry, then, that he had not secured Motor Matt's services for the Stark-Frisbie people while he had the chance.