to make a rhyme.

“Look here—,” started in Bob, fiercely, “I’ll have to—”

“That explains it,” broke in Jerry.

“Explains what?” asked Bob.

“Explains who had a hand in this,” went on Jerry. “You know Bill, who isn’t any too good a character about town, and Jack Pender have been quite thick of late. Two or three times I’ve caught them whispering together down to the post office.”

“Well, what of it?”

“This much. You know what a sneak Jack is, always toadying around that bully Nixon. Well, Nixon threatened to get even with all of us on account of that little spill he and Ned had. This is how he’s done it. He’s got Jack to do his dirty work, and Jack has hired Bill to doctor our wheels.

“While we were away Bill comes over here, bribes poor old Pete with the offer of something to smoke to leave him in charge for a little while, and does the trick. Didn’t Bill give you something to smoke?” demanded Jerry.

“He give me the money, now ain’t that funny,” sang Pete, without a thought of the consequences of his act.

“That’s just it,” agreed Ned and Bob, and they complimented Jerry on his shrewdness.

“Oh, that was easy enough to figure out,” said the lad. “The question is, can we get our wheels in shape for the race? We’ve got about half an hour.”

The boys lost no more time in idle regrets. Tool bags were opened, and with wrenches and screw drivers the three set to work adjusting the bearings properly. Though this was a somewhat delicate task they succeeded in about ten minutes.

“Now to clean the chains,” said Bob. “That graphite must all come off.”

“Kerosene oil is the best,” suggested Jerry. “Hurrah!” he shouted. “This will do!” and he set off on the run.

In a few seconds he reached a lantern that was fastened on a pole, and used, at night, to illuminate the driveway to the club-house. “This is just what we needed,” he said. “We’ll borrow a little kerosene from the lamp.”

The tin reservoir held more than was needed, and in another minute each boy was busy cleaning his chain.

“Now to put some fresh graphite on, and we’ll be in good shape,” cried Ned, in high glee over the successful outcome of the plan.

Jerry was the first to take his stick of lubricant from his tool bag. As he did so he gave a start. Then he rubbed some of the black material between his thumb and finger.

“I thought so!” he exclaimed.

“Doctored?” inquired Ned and Jerry nodded.

“Iron or steel filings,” he said. “Lucky there is plenty of graphite to be had, or we’d be stuck.”

It did not take long to borrow from other cyclists some of the stuff, and the chains were soon lubricated. The boys still had five minutes before their race would be called. They spent the time in resting from their hustling labors. They had fixed things just in time.

In the meantime Noddy had been rather busy about the track. He prided himself on being a sport and was seeking some one who would lay wagers with him. He made several on various events, profiting by what Jack Pender said were sure tips.

“I wonder if we can’t bet something on this race we’re in?” asked Noddy of his toady.

“I don’t see why not,” assented Jack. “I think you have a good chance of winning, with those three young cubs out.”

So Noddy busied himself, putting up what was a large sum even for a youth whose father kept him liberally supplied with pocket money. As a matter of fact Noddy went so deep into the betting that he had to lay considerable of the money on “wind.” That is he did not have in his pocket the money he would have to pay if he lost. But then he did not think of losing.

His last wager, laid just before the time of the three mile race, was with Paul Banner. “Polly,” the boys called him, for young Banner aspired to be what, a few years ago, was called a dude. He was fond of dressing in the height of fashion, and liked to be thought a sport. He had a small income, did not work, and spent most of his time at the athletic club.

“I’ll give you odds of two to one against the favorite in this race,” said Noddy to Paul.

“And who’s the favorite?” asked Paul.

“Jerry Hopkins,” replied Noddy. “Come, what do you say? Two to one he doesn’t win.”

“You’re on. For how much?”

“I’ll lay you one hundred dollars to fifty dollars,” said Noddy.

“Done,” assented Paul, and he made a memorandum of the wager.

At last, after several events had been run off, during which our heroes had been busy undoing the mischief worked to their wheels, the time came for the race that meant so much to them. The announcer gave the word. Ned, Bob and Jerry hastened around to the track entrance. Noddy and Jack, with their wheels, were a few seconds behind them.

“Well, they’re on hand, I see,” whispered Noddy.

“Yes, they’ll start, and that will be about all,” replied Jack, with a meaning smile.

For a few minutes there was considerable work getting the dozen riders correctly placed. Finally they were all lined up on the white mark, and the starter raised his revolver.

“Bang!”

Off in the air lazily floated a little puff of smoke. Then the cyclists were off like the wind. My! how they did go!

Noddy Nixon, who, to give him the credit he deserved, was not a bad sprinter, was in the lead. He was pedaling at top speed, for he knew only by acquiring a big lead could he hope to win.

There was an excited shout from the spectators as they saw the start of the race, and realized that the favorite was left in the lurch. But if Jerry was disconcerted, or if either Ned or Bob was, not one of them showed it. After a few seconds Noddy glanced back. He was surprised to see Jerry rather closer to him than he hoped to find him.

“I thought you said the wheels would lag behind,” said Noddy to Jack, who was riding furiously beside him.

“They must have discovered the trick and fixed things up,” panted Jack.

But there was no time to talk. It was to be a race to the finish.

“I’ll fix them, though,” muttered Jack, letting up on his speed, which had kept him beside Noddy, and dropping back a little to the rear.

Aside from the three chums, and Noddy and Jack, there was no interest in the race, for the other seven contestants were hopelessly in the rear. Bob and Ned were on even terms, with Jerry somewhat ahead of them.

“Go on, Jerry!” called Ned. “Beat the big bully!”

“Don’t either of you fellows drop out!” pleaded Jerry. “Try to win. You’ve as good a chance as I.”

And then Jerry gave his attention to the task before him. It was no light one. However, he, as did the other two boys, felt the bicycles to be in good order in spite of the attempts at foul play. They were all riding well.

Noddy’s advantage in age, his better muscular development, gave him a big lead, however, and for the first mile the gap between him and Jerry was scarcely shortened. Jack still hung on to his comrade’s rear, ready to play another dastardly trick when opportunity offered.

During the second mile it was plain to all that Noddy was petering out. His head bent lower over the handle bars, and foam, like white cotton, could be seen on his lips.

“I’m almost all in!” he gasped to Jack.

“Keep up a little longer!” entreated Jack. “You’ll win! Why, you’ve got to win!”