at the races to bring his men in line for the organization of a company; here was the car, built at the cost of months of work and some hundreds of Cooper's money, and it developed such speed that it was not safe to enter it for the race.
Suddenly Cooper had an idea.
"See here! I know a man—if there's a man on earth who would take that car out he's the one!" he said. "He isn't afraid of anything under the shining sun—a bicycle rider I raced against in Denver. Oldfield's his name—Barney Oldfield."
"Never heard of him," said Ford. "But if you think he would drive this car let's get hold of him. Where is he?"
"He ought to be in Salt Lake now," Cooper answered. "I'll wire him."
The message went to Oldfield that night. Couzens was told of the situation, and the three men waited anxiously for a telegram from Salt Lake. It came late the next day, asking some further questions about the car and stating that Oldfield had never driven an automobile. Cooper wired again.
The track meeting was to be held the next month. Time was short. Oldfield, if he came, would have to learn every detail of handling the machine. Even with an experienced man, the danger of driving that car in the races was great. Cooper and Ford haunted the telegraph offices.
At last the final reply came. Oldfield would
