"Mike, my driver, gets out to locate the injury. But it's too many for Mike. He was just telling me he'd have to go to the nearest farmhouse and telephone the garage, when the boy on the wheel comes trundling back. He asks me as nice as you please if there's anything the matter, and if he can't help us out. I was just about to tell him that he had another guess coming if he thought he could make good where Mike had fallen down, when he slips out of his saddle, makes a couple of passes at the machinery, closes the bonnet and begins to crank up. Mike got back in his seat and laughed like he thought it was a good joke; then he pretty near threw a fit when the machine jogged off as well as ever. The boy gave us the laugh again, this time from the rear. And that's how he happened to make a hit with me. I've heard that he knows more about motors than----" "All ready, boys!" came the voice of the starter. Dace Perry and two other boys had their wheels at the tape, but Matt King continued to lean against the fence and made no move to come forward. "Hurry up, King!" shouted the starter. "What's the matter with you?" "I haven't a wheel any more, Mr. Carter," answered Matt, "and I'm not a candidate. That's what I came out here to tell you." "Not a candidate?" boomed the major, from up in the stand. "Don't you know the prize that goes to the winner in this event when we meet Prescott is as good as two hundred and fifty dollars? It's not a money prize, for we don't intend to make professionals out of you boys, but----" "He's lost his nerve, that's what's the matter with him." The words were so uncalled for, and the taunt in the voice so vicious, that every eye turned at once on the speaker. The captain of the cross-country team, arms folded and hostile gaze leveled at Matt, stood leaning against his machine. "Quitter!" scoffed a voice in the crowd. "Dry up, Perry!" called the starter. "You too, Spangler. Neither of you has any call to butt in." Matt left the fence and advanced slowly across the track toward Perry. "I've lost my nerve, have I, Dace Perry?" Matt inquired, with a half-laugh. "What else do you call it?" demanded Perry, keeping his black eyes warily on the other's face. As Matt stood staring at Perry his expression changed to one of the utmost good humor. Finally, with a broad smile, he turned to the starter. "It looks as though Perry was going to be lonesome, Mr. Carter," said he, "if I don't ride with him. Can you dig up a wheel for me?" Half a dozen in the high-school crowd set up a yell. "Take mine, Matt; take mine!" "I know something about yours, Splinters," went on Matt, facing one of the lads, "and if you'll oblige me I'll spin it around the track." "You bet!" chirruped Splinters, bounding away.