For a moment Sercomb and Chub struggled as the cars raced. Then the wrench fell, Sercomb slipped back into his seat, and Matt cut off the power and slowed down to a halt.
A great gasp of relief went up from the crowd, followed by a perfect roar of cheers. While Sercomb and his Irish mechanic raced onward, the crowd poured out of the grand stand and over the fences to rush upon the victor and congratulate him.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
CONCLUSION.
"Nobly done, King!" roared Trueman, grabbing Matt out of the car and giving him a rapturous hug. "Oh, it was a grand race, a splendid race, and you have done wonderful things for the Jarrot people! They'll not forget this in a hurry. Make no contract with any one," he whispered, "until you hear from me! I've got to wire St. Louis!"
"Matt!" whooped Carl, pawing through the excited crowd to reach his chum's side. "I knowed dot you vould do it, yah, py shinks! Und I knowed dot Sercomb vouldt dry to do you, too. Dot's der vay mit him."
Carl hugged Matt ecstatically, then turned to grab the oil-caked hands of Chub.
"You safed Matt, Chub," said he, "dot's vat you dit. Eferypody saw dot! Eferypody knows, now, schust vat kindt oof a feller dot Sercomb iss. Efen Plympton can'd ged aroundt vat he saw mit his own eyes, nix, py shiminy!"
Off to the left of the grandstand Colonel Plympton was having an interview with Sercomb.