There was a band
playing gay airs, as Tom guided his machine through the entrance
gate, and onto the track.
The judges made their final inspection. There were twenty cars
entered, but it was obvious that some of them would not last
long, as their battery capacity was not large enough. Their
owners might have relied on recharging, but how they could do
this under the usual slow system, and hope to win, Tom could not
see. He hoped to run the entire distance on the single charge,
but, if by some accident part of his current should leak away,
his battery could be charged in a short time, by means of his new
system, to run for a considerable distance, or he could install a
new one already charged, for he had two sets on hand. Tom glanced
over the cars of his competitors. They were to be sent away in
batches, the affair being a handicap one, with time allowance for
the smaller powered cars. Tom noted that his car and the red and
the green ones were in the same bunch. Tom's car was purple.
"Are you all ready?" asked the starter of the first group of
races.
"Ready," was the low-voiced response.
"Crack!" went the pistol, and there followed the hum of the
motors as the current set the mechanism to work.
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