"What do you mean?"
"Well, I see by this paper that the outing Club of America has offered three thousand dollars for the speediest electric car. The tests are to come off this fall, on a new and specially built track on Long Island, and it's to be an endurance contest for twenty-four hours, or a race for distance, they haven't yet decided. But I'm going to have a try for it, dad, and, besides winning the prize, I think I'll take Andy Foger down a peg."
"What's Andy been doing now?"
"Oh, nothing more than usual. He's always mean, and looking for a chance to make trouble for me, but I didn't refer to anything special. He has a new auto, you know, and he boasts that it's the fastest one in this country. I'll show that it isn't, for I'm going to win this prize with the speediest car on the road."
"But, Tom, you haven't any automobile, you know," and Mr. Swift looked anxiously at his son, who was smiling confidently. "You can't be going to make your motor-cycle into an auto; are you?"
"No, dad."
"Then how are you going to take the prize contest? Besides, electric cars, as far as I know, aren't specially speedy."
