"I'm very happy to be here," said Randy over the loud-speaker. "This is a really sporting course, and I'm looking forward to an enjoyable day." "What do you think of your chances in the Black Tiger?" the announcer asked. "We'll know more about them at the end of the race than we do now before it's started," Randy replied. "I'm up against some hot competition, and whatever driver wins will deserve everybody's respect. There are eighteen other cars in the event--Jags, Ferraris, Maseratis, and a couple of Thunderbirds--and I'm going to have to keep my eye on every one of them." "Any particular driver you're worried about?" "At this point, I'm worried about them all," replied Randy. "Some of the boys have raced against me at Le Mans. Tom Wisdom in Ferrari number four is tops, and so is Kurt Kreuger in his Jag--I think it's number six. But as I say, I'll have to keep my eye on everybody. They're all tiptop men driving fine cars." "Isn't he wonderful?" said Mary Jane, and Steve and Woody nodded their agreement. A few minutes later there came another announcement over the loud-speaker. "Attention in the spectator area," the announcer said. "Will Woody Hartford--that's W-o-o-d-y H-a-r-t-f-o-r-d--report immediately to gate three? Woody Hartford to gate three immediately." "That's me," said Woody in astonishment. "That's right," said Steve. "Get moving." "Where's gate three?" Woody asked. "You, Woody Hartford?" a flagman who was standing on the track within earshot asked. "That's right." "O.K., get over the fence and cross the track. Gate three's right over there where all those cars are parked. By the big white building. Hustle, because they're going to close the track in a couple of minutes." Woody scrambled over the fence and ran toward the white building as fast as he could. At gate three he found Worm waiting for him and very excited. "Here," said Worm. "Sign this. It means that if you get hit or get hurt, you can't sue the race track or anybody." He put a mimeographed form before Woody. "Randy's other pit man didn't turn up," said Worm, "and I can no handle everything meself. We've got forty minutes tae get the Black Tiger ready, and because it's a new car, the officials are letting ye join the pit crew. Hurry, mon. Did they never teach ye tae sign yere name in thot silly school ye went tae?" Woody scrawled his signature in indelible pencil on the bottom of the form, and the two sprinted over to the pit area where Randy stood, looking worried, beside the Black Tiger. "Awfully glad you were able to come," he said. "Tape up my headlights for me, like a good lad." He threw Woody a roll of adhesive tape. Woody glanced at the headlights of the Jag in the adjoining pit. They were covered completely with strips of adhesive tape. He guessed the reason was to prevent them being pitted by gravel flung up by the rear wheels of cars ahead in the race. He taped the Black Tiger's headlights in a similar way.