The arrival of the Chosen Trio in Queensville did not occasion the excitement in that small city that at least Mr. Gaines had anticipated. Possibly there would have been a more noticeable interest had it not been that strangers and strange cars had already become, on account of the numbers present for the races, a drug on the market. Queensville people had grown quickly accustomed to the presence of visitors. Beyond a passing glance the lumbering Roadster and its passengers received little notice, therefore.

Soapy had counted so much upon the demonstration of lively interest the arrival of himself, his car and Pickton and Perth—whom he regarded as a kind of body-guard—would occasion that to attract little or none of such curious attention was a serious blow to his vanity.

The fault, Mr. Gaines in his own mind assured himself, lay in the very ordinary appearance of his friends. He would have to let it be known, he concluded, that he alone was the owner of the Roadster and that he, if not those with him, was a person of quite some consequence.

It was with difficulty that Pickton and Perth prevailed upon Gaines to do as they had originally agreed and look for quarters where they could prepare most of their own meals and so incur no considerable expense. This accomplished, they quite readily found a really desirable place of the character desired. It was a vacant, one-story, white cottage. Adjoining was a more pretentious house, the owner of both of which dwellings was desirous of taking in what money he might while the influx of strangers was on. For the moderate charge of five dollars for the week he gave the Trio the use of the cottage for themselves and permission to run their car into a shed in the rear of his own residence.

The three lads might have been very comfortable—might have fared well in all respects, in the situation presented, had Soapy been the least bit favorably disposed toward "roughing it." With the gasoline camp stove for their cooking, ample bedding, and water and similar accommodations already in the cottage and at their disposal—why, under the same conditions the Auto Boys, or any group of really congenial young fellows, would have lived in a delightfully care-free way!

But Gaines did not like the bare floor and he did not like the absence of such little conveniences as rocking chairs and electric lights. And although Mrs. Gaston, wife of the owner of the property, and a most pleasant, motherly old lady, sent over a mirror, a lamp, a small table and three kitchen chairs for the accommodation of the boys, to say nothing of a jar of canned peaches and a fresh rhubarb pie, Soapy "hoped he wasn't an object of charity just yet awhile."

Or as Mr. Freddy Perth expressed it, he "simply turned up his long, thin nose at the whole shooting match and acted like a beastly cad." Where and how anything remotely similar to a "shooting match" came into the situation may not be exactly clear. No doubt young Mr. Perth knew just what he was talking about; but at any rate the words quoted, it should be understood, were his own.

However, and notwithstanding Mr. Gaines' constantly expressed dissatisfaction, Pick and Fred went ahead with the plan to make the white cottage their headquarters for the week of the races. The location was pleasantly convenient. Only four blocks distant was the main street and the Crown Hotel. Here many of the racing car owners and drivers were staying and here, also, the committee in charge of the contests had its office.

Considerably disgusted with the failure again to find the Auto Boys and out of sorts with himself and everyone else, Gaines went alone to the hotel for his supper on Sunday night. Perth and Pickton enjoyed their evening meal just as much without him, it is possible, at the cottage. And though they attempted nothing more intricate in the culinary art than boiling eggs, toasting bread and making coffee, they supplemented this fare with fruit from the stand down on the corner and so managed very well.

Soapy returned from the hotel to find the cottage uncomfortably cool and Fred and Tom both in bed—because they were tired and because they were warmer there. He sniffed contemptuously as he prepared to follow their example. Growing still more sulky, he requested both his friends to bear in mind who owned the car that brought them there. Even after he was in bed, Gaines felt moved to declare that he didn't care where the Auto Boys were or were not. He meant, he said, to enjoy the races.

He wanted to hear the hotel discussions, see the practice work and all things incident to the contests. So far as he was concerned, he at last concluded, "Worth and that bunch might run and jump off the edge of the earth if they wanted to." Which feat, by the way, had the Auto Boys known they had Mr. Gaines' free and complete permission to perform, they would quite likely have been glad to undertake for his especial accommodation, if for no other reason.

Now, although Mr. Tom Pickton was no better pleased with the temper Gaines displayed than was Mr. Frederick Perth, the two did not themselves become the firmer friends. Being fellow sufferers from Soapy's disagreeable manner, it would have been quite natural that every bond of friendship and sympathy between them should be strengthened. Yet quite the contrary was true.

Pickton more than half believed Perth responsible for the fact that Gaines had not invited him to supper at the hotel. Fred's somewhat inferior clothing, and his general lack of a kind of swaggering style, much affected by Soapy himself, made the latter ashamed to associate with him. In this light, at least, Pickton viewed the matter. He reasoned that Gaines went by himself because to invite one made it necessary that he invite both the others. Thinking thus, he wished fervently that Fred were some place else.

On the other hand, young Mr. Perth resented in his thoughts, if not in words and actions, a certain secretive manner Pickton had shown more and more of late. He resented still further Soapy's selfish and snobbish conduct. So all in all, harmony and good-fellowship among the Chosen Trio's members, never strong, never founded on the deep, mutual love and respect that is the basis of all true friendship, was in a fair way to disappear entirely.

Monday morning presented little change in the chilly atmosphere of the white cottage. Soapy remained in bed until Perth called him to breakfast—again toast, eggs and coffee. Meanwhile Pickton had brought the Roadster around to the street in front, and after the morning repast suggested a trip over the course. As Gaines and Fred both liked this proposal, the feelings of all three toward one another became, for the time, more pleasant.

Earnest, serious practice by the racing drivers began this Monday morning and from four to ten o'clock the roads were closed against all others. The Trio ran down in the Roadster to the banked curve just south of Queensville to watch the work of the different cars and men. It was at this point that the main grandstand was to be. Work on the structure, rising in successive tiers of seats in rows hundreds of feet in length, was now nearly completed. No charge for admission would be made before the day of the races and from boxes for each of which, for the one big day, the price would be fifty dollars, the three lads viewed the coming and going of the machines and their crews.

A large, red car, stripped to the chassis, save for the hood, the low seats and fuel tank back of them, made the most consistent record of the morning. Repeatedly its driver covered the circuit at fifty-five mile speed and did not exceed a minute's difference in time between one lap and another.

This machine was the Clarion; Kemper, driver, and Allstop, mechanician. It was a popular car and a favorite crew. Gossip at the Crown Hotel was partial to Kemper and the Clarion as winners in the heavy car race.

A long, low, gray car with black lines—and known as the Hare, was another of the "sure" winners, according to the forecast of those whose wisdom was aired each day and night wherever crowds congregated in Queensville. The identity of the Hare's driver was the subject of almost unceasing discussion. When out on the course or wherever he might be seen, he wore invariably a head-dress that covered his face completely. None could recognize him. On the entry list his name appeared as "I. S. Mystery"—nothing more, and it is scarcely necessary to add that a mystery he was. Cobert, his mechanician, was also unknown. He wore no mask. His head-rigging left his face open to close scrutiny; but he was silent always. He worked with Mr. "Mystery" as if they read continuously each the thoughts of the other and had no need of any other language.

The Hare, as a car, was known quite well enough. The manufacturers were among the most prominent in America. As a factor in the heavy car race, the machine was considered very important, as has been stated. So much, however, depends upon the skill, experience and daring of the driver in any such contest, that many and many a man would have given a great deal to know who "Mystery" was, and where he and Cobert had acquired their apparently perfect training.

Six other cars, including the Alameda, two Brights, a Henry and two Wings completed the field for the big race. The light car contest was but a minor affair and attracted little notice. Of the six machines just mentioned, the Henry was looked upon as a bare possibility. The Brights were not rated highly, though one of them, with Crane—a long-experienced driver—as pilot, was counted upon as an interesting "dark horse." The Wings were the product of unknown builders. One of the wags at the Crown Hotel remarked that "the pair of them might fly some, but not very far at that." The Alameda was not considered at all formidably, either, being practically unknown.

All the gossip concerning the different contestants he had heard about the hotel Gaines repeated as being strictly first-hand intelligence, or quite as if every word were a matter of his own personal knowledge, as the Trio watched the Monday morning practice. Very well did Fred and Pickton know where he had heard all he told them. That they secretly resented his manner of superiority there can be no doubt; but their interest in obtaining information was too lively to permit of their failing to listen, and attentively.

By ten o'clock, all the racing cars had been taken home to their respective stations, some in Queensville and some to headquarters established in camps at convenient points adjacent to the course. With the way now open to them, the Trio started in the Roadster for a trip around the circuit, Pickton at the wheel.

"Oh, you!" called a voice from one of the tire supply pits directly in front of the grandstand.

Perth answered, "Hello!"

"How far you going?" asked the first speaker, a brisk young man in a suit of khaki. "Wonder if you'd just as soon take a couple of tubes over to the Clarion camp for me?"

"Sure, Mike," said the by no means bashful Perth, though why he supposed the name of the young man to be Michael—which, in fact, it truly was not—is a problem. But anyhow, "Sure, Mike!" he said.

"Their camp is in a little grove just the other side of Chester. You'll see a lane leading right back to their tent and a barn they have," the chap in the khaki suit continued. "Give 'em these two tubes. They'll know who sent 'em. You're the boys for me, all right!"

Gaines would have objected to taking the tubes aboard except for the opportunity to see the Clarion headquarters. He did not like the way in which Perth acted as spokesman. He so informed Fred a little later. Again he requested him, also, and with some degree of earnestness, to remember whose machine he was "banging around for the accommodation of any Tom, Dick and Harry."

Perth smoothed matters over as best he could by saying, "Oh, Gaines, let's be civilized!" but he held the two tire tubes in his own hands. When the camp of the Clarion was reached, he carried them personally to the man who appeared to be in charge.

With the gentleman who received the tubes Perth found it quite easy to become acquainted. He volunteered to assist as the stranger immediately set about the work of inserting one of the new tubes in a tire. The change was being made on a car kept at the camp for general purposes. Fred's offer was accepted and he did his work right skillfully.

Gaines and Pickton looked on but gave no assistance. Later all three were allowed to watch Kemper and Allstop making some adjustments on the Clarion racer. A proud moment it was, too, when the famous driver nodded to them in a friendly way.

"Much obliged for those tubes," he said, looking toward Fred. "It was one on me that you were asked to fetch them. I intended stopping at the tire control my last time around and forgot it."

"Don't mention it," said Perth.

It was odd, but the fact, nevertheless, that this very natural conversation was the source of much irritation to Mr. Soapy Gaines.

"That Clarion car has no more chance," said he, when the Roadster was again underway upon the course—"that Clarion car has no more chance of winning than your grandmother. The thing's a heap o' junk and Kemper couldn't drive a truck!"

"Fudge!" snorted Perth in an outburst of supreme contempt.

"Keep our eyes open and we might find Way's outfit," suggested Pickton, anxious to prevent a clash and even more anxious, if the whole truth were known, to locate the Auto Boys' camp.

Strangely enough Tom's proposal instantly interested Soapy very much. Fickle and uncertain always, he now declared that, come what might, he would find where Way and the rest were staying and what they were doing in the locality, if it took all day.