"Can't you beat him?" asked Pete.
"I could have, easily, if my gears hadn't broken," declared the
bully, but, as a matter of fact, he could not have done so. "I
oughtn't to have changed, going up hill," he added, as he jammed
on the brakes, to stop the car from sliding down the slope.
Tom saw and heard.
"I thought you were so anxious to race," he said, exultantly,
as well he might. "I don't want to try a contest down hill,
though, Andy," and he laughed at the red-haired lad, who was
furious.
"Aw, go on!" was all the retort the squint-eyed one could think
of to make.
"I am going on," replied our hero. "Just to show you that I can
go down hill, watch me."
He turned his motor-cycle, and approached Andy's stalled car,
for Tom was some distance in advance of it, up the slope by this
time. As he approached the auto, containing the three
disconcerted cronies, something bounded out of Tom's pocket. It
was the bottle of stove blacking he had purchased for Mrs.
Baggert. The bottle fell in the soft dirt in front of his
forward wheel, and a curious thing happened. Perhaps you have
seen a bicycle or auto tire strike a stone at an angle, and
throw it into the air with great force.
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