Seattle University - Aegis Yearbook (Seattle, WA)

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22 SEATTLE COLLEGE ANNUAL Several minor races were run off and then at last, six chugging machines lined up for the last and the big event of the day, the “ten mile open. The pistol cracked and a chorus of pistol shots rang out in answer as the six sputtering machines swept down the track in a bunch. Billy singled out Coughlin, the only rival he really feared, and stuck to him like a burr. On they went, Coughlin in the lead, Billy a bare half length behind, and the others twenty feet in the rear. Slowly Coughlin increased his pace. For three laps the machines remained in comparatively the same positions, Billy keeping his position with ease though the speed was constantly increasing. Suddenly he heard the roaring of two other machines, one on each side. Quick as a flash, he saw what that meant. Coughlin had plotted with the two other riders to “box up” the Royal if it proved dangerous. Realizing the necessity of prompt action, Billy, with a jerk of his wrist, opened the throttle wider than ever before. In a moment he had flashed by Coughlin but in a moment Coughlin, who still had some reserve power, once more took the lead. The machines were again in their first positions. The race, contrary to expectation, was many removes from a tame event. The great crowd was now all on Billy’s side and cheered him wildly every time he flashed past the grandstand. “The kid’s riding a great race, was the comment of one onlooker, “but he can’t quite hold Coughlin. His machine hasn’t got it in her.” But the speaker did not know what Billy knew, that the good old Royal had never yet done her best. For the eighth time they whizzed past the stand. It was a rush and a roar, a fleeting glimpse of two determined figures crouched low over the tanks and they were gone. Such speed had never before been seen on the Tacoma track, and the crowd was wild with excitement. Now they had begun the last mile. Billy, his heart thumping as if to rival his engine, slowly opened the throttle to

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BILLY—“RACER” 21 For about half an hour Billy raced around the track, trying various speeds and different ways of managing the machine and then calling out to Mike to time him, while he went once more around. He opened the throttle still wider and flattened himself down over the gasoline tank as if for the final spurt. Never in his life had he traveled so fast. Everything became indistinct, whirling past him in a vague black blotch, and yet he knew that the machine beneath him was far from wide open. In almost no time he had rounded the big track, and flushed and panting from the exercise, drew up before Mike to learn his time. “Mow'd it go Mike?” he asked. “Ye’ll do me boy; ye’ll do,” the Irishman assured him with a grin. “Whether I’m doin’ right to let you try it, I dunno, but ye’ve got the makins of a foine racer.” “What was the time,” impatiently interrupted Billy. “Fifty flat, but, ye’ve got to do a heap better than that. Tom Coughlin was after doin’ the mile in forty-four and three-fifths yisterday.” Tom Coughlin was the son of Brian’s business competitor. That evening Billy went around to see his brother, and told him that he had found a racer. To all his brother’s inquiries concerning the identity of the new racer lie vouched no answer and his brother being unable to do anything was forced to content himself with the hope that the mysterious rider would make good. At last the eventful Saturday arrived. Everything was in readiness. Billy had worked hard and Mike no less so. The big machine, thanks to the Irishman’s loving care, was tuned up to the last notch of efficiency. By two o’clock the great grandstand was filled with a large and enthusiastic crowd. It was rumored that Brian’s “kid brother” was to ride the Royal in the big event of the day and everybody was accordingly of the opinion that Coughlin would have no opposition.

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BILLY—“RACER” 23 its limit. The machine was now wide open. Foot by foot Billy crawled up on his opponent, while the crowd leaped to its feet the better to see the thrilling finish. Now they were even; now the Royal was ten feet ahead; now twenty—forty and still increasing the lead. Down the home stretch it swept, a rushing, roaring tornado. And as Billy flashed across the line, Coughlin hopelessly in the rear, the mighty roar of his winning engine was drowned in a deafening thunder of wild applause. The future of the Royal was assured and Billy beamed with the happiness of victory. JEROME R. KELLY, 4th High.