“Yes. I know the Thunderbolt car pretty well. I’ve driven one for a considerable time at intervals, and I don’t think there are any Thunderbolt tricks that can fool me. Aside from that, you know that if there is anything the mechanician can do to take you over the finish line first, your humble servant will do it. Is it a go?”
The hearty handshake and the expression of gratitude in Stanley Downs’ face was answer enough.
“All right, then,” went on Varron hurriedly. “Let’s get down to the garage and look the machine over. Then we might as well take a spin around the track together. What do you say?”
They hurried to the garage, and soon had the big racer on the street, ready to start for the speedway, out in the country. Among those who watched Stanley Downs drive away, with his new mechanician, was Hank Swartz. He was frowning heavily.
“I don’t know how it is,” muttered Hank to himself, “but that Downs always seems to fall on his feet. What was the use of paying to have Paul knocked out, when he can get as good a man as Clay Varron to fill his place. I know Varron. I’d rather have him in that Thunderbolt than Paul Wallman, any time. Burnham will get the worst of this yet, if he doesn’t watch out.”
CHAPTER IX.
A Broken Record.
IT was a splendid day for the big race. There was not too much sun, for a soft mist hung in the air, tempering the light. But it was bright and comfortably warm, nevertheless. In a word, it was perfect spring weather.
The grand stand, bleachers, and every other part of the immense grounds where admission was charged were crowded with sight-seers. In the vast acreage around the track set apart for automobiles, the machines were parked several deep, and in all of them were groups of well-dressed men and beautifully dressed women, who had come from all parts of the country to see what could be done by motor cars that were the last word in scientific achievement.
There was a record already of more than a hundred and two miles an hour by an American car. Would this be beaten to-day? That was the question. Or would it ever be equaled?