CHAPTER XIV.
THE FIRST HALF OF THE RACE.
Motor Matt had made up his mind, before starting, that he would takethe first round steadily and easily. Elimination would be going onsteadily, and it was just as well to see what was going to happenbefore taking the long chances.
The morning was bright and sunny. There was not a cloud in the sky. Agentle breeze fanned the course and dissipated the dust raised by thecars.
And there was plenty of dust! It circled, and eddied, and rolled,outlining the course as far as the eye could see.
At the difficult turn leading into the river road, Matt passed PatsyGrier's overturned car. Grier had failed to negotiate the turn andhad gone into the ditch. Grier himself seemed to have escaped withoutinjury, but he was busily bandaging his mechanic's arm.
The river road was an exceedingly difficult part of the circuit. Thetimber kept the wind from dissipating the dust, and it spread out likea fog. Matt could hear cars ahead and behind, but he could not seethem. Intuition, rather than anything else, carried him safely by twoof the touring-cars, one of which was suffering from tire-trouble.
Mings, in the Stark-Frisbie, and Balt Finn, in the Bly-Lambert, wereboth ahead of Matt, and he thought only of getting past them. He wasnot intending, however, to do much more than hold his own against thebetter cars during the first round.
The motor was pulling magnificently. Matt, his heart leaping with thejoy of the sport, opened the machine out a little more on the fine roadfrom the river to Le Loup.
He passed several more cars, but not Mings', or Finn's. The climb toCoal Run was splendidly made. Between that village and the track heshot past the little "40," smashed into a scrap-heap, and with driverand mechanic standing hopelessly by. Something must have gone wrongwith the "40's" steering-gear, for it had left the road and smashedinto a big boulder.
All the cars had got well away before Matt came plunging along thetrack in front of the grand stand. The first round had taken himexactly fifty-eight minutes.
There were only two cars ahead of him--those driven by Mings and Finn.
"Bravo, Matt!" the young motorist heard Trueman shout, high over theripple of cheering as he dashed past; "only two ahead and you're----"
What the last of it was Matt could not hear. For this second round hewas going to cram on all the speed he could. His one idea was to passMings and Finn.
The No. 13 was holding up under the strain in fine shape. Nothing hadgone wrong with either car or motor.
Chub had strapped himself to his seat. He was busying himself with thelubrication and the fuel supply, keeping tab on everything that waspurely mechanical so that Matt would have nothing to do but drive.
Both chums had a deep curiosity to learn what had befallen each other;but that was a time when personal considerations of every nature wereof minor importance. Nothing was thought of but the race; every facultywas centered upon the question of speed, and more speed, and then alittle more.
The passing of Finn, on the beautiful sweep of road between the riverand Le Loup, was an exciting event. In every way possible Finn soughtto block the road; yet steadily, persistently, Matt crept alongside theBly-Lambert car, swung into the lead and hurled through Le Loup.
In the distance, well up the slope toward Coal Run, Matt and Chub couldsee the moving dust kicked up by Mings' car.
With teeth set and eyes flashing behind his goggles, Matt hurled theNo. 13 at the hill. The car jumped up the ascent with incredible speed.
Swiftly, surely, Mings was being overhauled. The spectators in thegrand stand had an excellent view of the sharp little scrimmage whichput Matt in the lead. The No. 13 appeared to leap alongside the No.1 car, both drivers turning the very last ounce of power into theircylinders. For the space of a breath it seemed as though the wheels ofthe two cars would lock. As they rushed around the curve in the track,Matt swung ahead and took the inside course.
The roar from the crowd was tremendous. But Matt was not thinking ofthat. He was in the lead, now, and his one idea was to keep it.
Mings had left the starting-tape twenty-four minutes ahead of him, andif Matt had come over the last lap a fraction less than that behindMings, the race would still have gone to the Jarrot people.
There were still cars on the course, and Matt began meeting and passingthose that had left behind him.
"Overhaul Sercomb! Pass Sercomb!"
These were the first words Chub had spoken since the beginning of therace.
It was a startling feat he suggested, that of traveling clear aroundthe circuit and overtaking Sercomb--an impossible feat, Matt thought,but the impossible is not always a thing to be scoffed at so much as tobe striven for.
But troubles were in store for Matt. They began close to Le Loup whenMatt found that his governor was not working. Every time he took theclutch out the engine raced, making everything terribly hot, and alsomaking it necessary before changing speed to choke down the motor bythe ignition.
A halt was necessary, and Chub let off a groan as Matt slowed down andthey got busy repairing the machine. Two cars swept past, while theywere tinkering. Both were Stark-Frisbie cars, one, of course, driven byMings, and the other by Sercomb.
"Instead of our overtaking Sercomb, Chub," said Matt grimly, "it's theother way around. He's overcome the lead we had of him and has passed_us_."
"If the governor works now, pard," replied Chub, leaping into the car,"we'll make up for lost time. Push ahead!"
The governor worked as usual, and Matt began reaching out to regainwhat he had lost. He flew past Sercomb, and had another struggle withMings on the track.
Those in the grand stand knew that some accident must have happened, orMatt would never have lost the lead he had gained in the previous round.
Trueman was beginning to feel disheartened. The No. 13 was beginningto "act up," and there was no telling what would happen, or where thedisasters would stop.
In Le Loup, Trueman had placed a supply of gasoline. Matt halted toreplenish his tank. Sercomb passed, but Mings, for some reason, did notshow up.
Shortly after leaving Le Loup the governor went wrong again.
"Don't stop, Matt!" counseled Chub; "we can't waste any more time. I'llswitch off at the corners and see if that won't help."
Chub, by switching off at the corners and then switching on again whenthey got round, enabled Matt to take the turns with the clutch out. Forsome time they kept up this rough method of driving, and, while engagedin it, they got by Sercomb again.
The Stark-Frisbie machine was at a standstill, and Sercomb and hismechanic were working like beavers.
"Oh, I don't know, pard," laughed Chub. "There's others. I wonderwhat's become of Mings?"
"Perhaps he's had an accident. We can tell on the next round."
"If we don't have anything worse than what we've got already to buckagainst, we'll do well enough. I'm satisfied that----"
Just then a very serious accident happened. They were taking the cornerthat led to the track, clutch out and switch off; the switch went on afraction of a second too soon, and as the engine, racing tremendously,was dropped into gear on the third speed, there was a loud crash in thegear-box.
"Jumpin' horned-toads!" yelled Chub; "what's was that, Matt?"
"Our third speed's gone," Matt answered. "It's first, second, fourth,second, first from now on."
"That means we're out of it," growled Chub gloomily.
"I don't know about that," answered Matt. "The race seems to be betweenus, Sercomb, and Mings. We'll hang on and do our best. Maybe Mings isout of it--he's lagging terribly, even if he isn't--and we know Sercombis having troubles."
As the No. 13 rushed past the grand stand amid the cheers of thepeople, Trueman could see that something was wrong; but he was feelingmore hopeful. Matt was in the lead and if he could keep it and fightdown the mishaps that assailed him, there was still a chance that hewould hold the lead and win.
As if the troubles Matt had had were not enough, on the road
towardthe river the motor began to misfire. Having to run on three cylindersinstead of four diminished the speed materially, and Chub groaned inhis discouragement.
"Don't take it so hard, Chub," said Matt. "Be jeerful, as Carl says.There's Mings' car piled up against a tree."
As they dashed past along the river road they saw the No. 1 smashedbadly, and Mings and his mechanic limping around the wreck in extremedejection.
Miles farther around the circuit they came upon Sercomb. He and hisassistant had just finished their repairs and were starting on again.
Matt and Chub had made the complete round of the track and hadoverhauled Sercomb, but Sercomb was now bidding fair to recover lostground and take the race from the crippled Jarrot car.
"Did you ever see such measly luck?" growled Chub.