"I'd like to have a race. Maybe
several cars will enter, and we can have some fun out of it. Our
machine has a lot of 'go' left in it yet."
"That's the stuff!" exclaimed Bob. "I'm with you. But let's get supper
first, maybe--"
"I guess he's afraid there won't be any left," remarked Jerry. "But
come on, I can eat a bit myself."
As the boys left the office of the hotel, they saw several men reading
the notice Noddy had tacked up.
"A race on this circular track here!" exclaimed one man to a friend as
the boys passed him. "It's very risky! The turns are not banked
enough. I wouldn't do it, but I suppose some will take the chance."
"Yes, it will be a dangerous race," responded the other. "Who is this
Noddy Nixon?"
"A son of that rich Nixon over in Cresville, I believe. His father
made a lot of money in stocks lately, and, I guess the son is helping
spend it. He has a powerful car."
The motor boys did not stay to hear more, but went to their rooms to
change their clothes, and were soon eating supper. There was talk of
nothing but automobile topics in the hotel corridors and office that
evening. Many motorists were planning to leave the next day, but some
said they would stay and see if the Nixon race would amount to
anything.
"Let's accept the challenge," suggested Jerry.
"I don't want to have anything to do with Noddy," objected Ned.
"We don't have to," replied Bob, "I was talking to the clerk about it.
All we have to do is register our names, and the name of the car.
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