"Well," began Dick after a pause, "I guess----" He did not finish the sentence, but stood in a listening attitude. From down the road there came a steady hum and roar that told of some approaching vehicles. "Automobiles," remarked Paul Drew. "If we had enough of them----" An instant later there swung into view around the bend in the road four big auto trucks, new ones, each in charge of a man. The trucks were powerful ones, designed to carry heavy loads a long distance and they glistened with new paint, while in gold letters on their sides was the name of a business firm in a large city just beyond Mooretown. At the sight of these--of their ample capacity--large enough to take the team and the crowd with them, Dick's heart gave a bound. He made up his mind instantly. "Fellows!" he cried, "if those men will hire me those trucks we'll play Mooretown yet. I'm going to see!" "Hurray!" cried George Hall, and Mr. Hamilton smiled in a gratified way at the quick wit of his son. "I say!" cried the young millionaire, stepping out in front of the first truck and holding up his hand, "will you do us a favor?" "What's this--a--hold up?" asked the man good-naturedly, as he jammed on the brakes. "Yes, we're held up--our special has gone--we've got to get to Mooretown soon or we forfeit the championship game. Will you take us in those trucks? I'll pay you well, and stand for all damage. Will you?" His voice was eager, and the man, who had been a boy himself once, and fond of sport, was visibly impressed. "I'd like to oblige you," he said slowly, "but I don't know as I can. You see I'm in charge of these four trucks. I work for the auto firm that built them, and the flour company in Denville that purchased them made an agreement that before they would accept them, the machines must be run from the factory to their place. That's what I and my men are doing now. The flour concern wanted to test the running gear, and it will be a good test all right." "It will be a better test with a load of us fellows in," said Dick with ready wit. "I suppose so," admitted the man, scratching his head, "but I don't know as the flour firm would like it. There might be some damage, and----" "I'll stand for it!" put in Mr. Hamilton quickly. "I'm Mortimer Hamilton, of Hamilton Corners." Though he spoke quietly his words had an instant effect for the man had evidently heard of the millionaire. "Is that so?" asked the chief auto driver quickly. "I know you. I own two shares of stock in your electric road. Simpson is my name--Ruddy Simpson. I hope the rumors that the road is going to fail aren't true, Mr. Hamilton." "The road will never fail, if I have to sink in it every dollar I own!" cried Mr. Hamilton. "But we've got other business in hand now. Can you take these boys to the game?"