Loe raamatut: «The Speedwell Boys and Their Racing Auto: or, A Run for the Golden Cup», lehekülg 7

CHAPTER XIX
AN EXCITING RUN

Wiley had shouted the joke so loudly that those in the forward car heard him, and it was repeated to Chance Avery. As Dan swerved to the left a bit, preparatory to running out beside Burton Poole’s car, Chance glanced around. They could not see him scowl, for his mask and goggles covered his face.

But it was plain that the captain of the Riverdale Club was not going to be beaten so easily. He forced the Poole car ahead, and Dan immediately gave up all intention of passing the first automobile.

“Go to it, boy!” shouted Fisher Greene. “Show ’em what’s in this car.”

“No,” said Dan, easily. “We’re not out for a race, but for a pleasant run.”

“You’re afraid!” mocked Wiley.

“Perhaps,” returned Dan, cheerfully.

Even Billy kept his temper and grinned at the gibes of Wiley and Fisher. The Breton-Melville car had shown what she could do for a few moments, and that satisfied Billy, as it did his brother. The Speedwells knew that of the three cars, their drab machine was running the smoothest, with less cost, and was as easily governed as any.

They ran on for the rest of the distance to Karnac Lake in the same order, letting Chance, in the Poole car, keep the lead, while the Speedwell and Greene machines ran close together and the occupants were sociable.

They arrived at Stetson Lodge, as the lake cottage was called, in ample season to remove the dust of the journey, and become acquainted with other folk of the cottage colony invited in for supper. It was a merry evening for all, the Stetsons being people who knew very well how to make their guests feel at home.

At eleven o’clock, or a little later, the party broke up. The neighboring guests went home and the members of the party sought their several rooms. Dan and Billy had already explained to Jim Stetson that they intended to run home in their car and return soon after breakfast, or even before, Saturday morning.

“You can’t do it, fellows,” said Jim, as he went out with them, and held the lantern while they ran the drab car out from under the shed and lit the lamps, both fore and aft. “Fifty miles each way – huh! something will happen to the machine as sure as shooting.”

“If she can’t run a hundred miles in twelve hours without going to the repair shop,” snorted Billy, “there isn’t much use in our entering for the thousand mile run.”

“You’re right there, Billy-boy,” said Dan, as he cranked up and the engine began to whirr and pop.

“Well, good luck!” exclaimed Jim, as he closed the shed. “We have to keep these doors locked. You see, that M’Kim chap – Harrington M’Kim – is just crazy about automobiles and uncle doesn’t know what he might do next. He came over here one day last summer and borrowed uncle’s car without saying ‘by your leave’, and started off with it. They caught him, however, in time.”

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Billy.

“Why – I’m not sure that there’s much the matter with him, if his folks wouldn’t watch over him so close and nag him all the time. The poor chap is epileptic – ”

“Has fits?”

“Yes. Dreadful ones sometimes. But he’ll outgrow them, the doctor says. Only his folks are rich, and they hire maids, and governesses, and tutors and such folk, to watch him all the time. They don’t dare have him play like other boys, or with other boys. He’s in bad now, I tell you.”

“But running an automobile is no job for a fellow who may have a fit at any moment,” said Billy.

“I believe you,” said Jim. “Well, you’re off!”

“Bye-bye!” shouted Billy, as Dan whirled the car out of the yard. But before they were a mile on the road the brothers changed places. Billy slipped to the wheel and Dan sat beside him.

“Now, youngster!” chuckled Dan, “let’s see what you can do to her. We have a clear road before us. Up hill and down dale – just about what we’ll have for the thousand mile run. And we’ve got no weight behind. Let her go!”

The drab car climbed the hill without a break, slid over the summit, and coasted down the other side at a pace which made the brothers stoop to get a breath. Their lights showed a long, clear stretch of road ahead; but when they came to a bend they went around it so quickly that Dan was obliged to fling himself far out from the car on the inner side to keep the tires on the ground. And his weight was barely sufficient for that.

At racing speed they came down into Riverdale. The town was silent and only the street lights winked at them as they roared through the streets and out past Josiah Somes’ home. That watchdog of the public welfare was not on hand to stretch his rope for them, and in a very few minutes they ran quietly into their own yard – time from Karnac, one hour and thirteen minutes.

But as soon as the engine had cooled off they had to go over the entire machine, tighten bolts, replace some, clean thoroughly, oil the bearings, and otherwise give the Breton-Melville a thorough grooming.

“That’s all right,” said Dan. “She can do fast time – there’s no doubt of it. But that isn’t the way to win an endurance test of a thousand miles, Billy.”

“I expect not,” agreed his brother.

“Fast traveling will shake the best car to pieces. And we are not up in the mechanics of the automobile yet – we can’t stop anywhere on the road and repair the vitals of our craft, as these professionals do.”

“We’ve got to learn,” said Billy, thoughtfully.

“That’s the checker! If we are going in for mechanics – motorcycles, motor cars – perhaps, Billy, power boats – ”

“Ouch! you’re treading on a sore corn,” grunted Billy, but with a grin. “I was watching those scooters running up and down the river under the bridge the other day till my tongue fairly hung out of my mouth! My goodness me, Dannie! what couldn’t we do with a motor boat – eh?”

“We couldn’t plow for corn with it, I reckon,” laughed the elder brother. “But it would be fine to own a launch like the Pedoe, or the Mainspring II.”

“And how about John Lovell’s Blue Streak?” exclaimed Billy. “I saw her on the Fourth. Why, she cut the water like a shark going to dinner!”

“Well, to get back to what I was saying,” Dan observed. “If we are going in for these things, we must have some technical training. We can’t think of going to school after next year. Father can’t afford to send us. But we must get in somewhere – into some shop where we can learn mechanics.”

“The Darringford Shops, for instance?” suggested Billy.

“One of us might; but the other ought to take up the electrical branches, I believe.”

While they were talking, they were at work upon the body and mechanism of their Breton-Melville. Before it was time to do the usual chores they had put the car in fine shape again, got an hour’s nap which did them a world of good, and they were loading up the wagons when their father came out of the house.

“Aren’t you boys paying rather dearly for your fun?” he asked, good-naturedly. “I hardly expected you’d get back here. Your mother and I did not hear you come in. And how does the car run?”

“Dandy and good, Dad!” cried Billy, while Dan said:

“Now, there wasn’t any need of your getting up so early. We’re not going to let you pay for our fun, that’s sure. When Billy and I get our schemes to working right, we’ll deliver this milk in half the time it takes now – and, naturally, at half the expense.”

“Yes,” interposed Billy, giggling. “Dan’s going to take the bottles around to the customers in a motor launch!”

But Dan only smiled quietly at this. They got off with the milk wagons in good season, and were back betimes, also, and without mishap. Mrs. Speedwell had a good breakfast ready for them, and they ate and were off again in the car at a few minutes past seven o’clock.

The run back to Karnac Lake was a more moderate one than that they had taken at midnight; nevertheless they arrived at the Stetson cottage about nine o’clock. They put their own car into the shed which did service as a garage and found the whole crowd out on the drive along the lakeside – a fine macadamized piece of road sixty feet wide and following the lake shore for nearly ten miles.

Chance Avery had Poole’s car out and was driving up and down, “doing stunts,” as Wiley Moyle called it.

“Why don’t you fellows bring out your bunch of scrap iron and show that chap some fancy running?” Fisher Greene demanded. “Perry won’t get our car in the ring. I hate to see Chance Avery always carrying off the honors.”

“No,” said Dan. “We’ve just taken fifty miles at a good clip and we’ll have to overhaul her again before we go back to-night. Let Chance do his monkey business without any rival.”

But the girls thought that Avery was really a remarkable chauffeur. He did handle Burton Poole’s car with some dexterity; nevertheless, Dan was quite decided in his own mind that the Poole automobile was by no means as good a machine as their own Breton-Melville.

Burton, however, had his car furnished nicely. There was little wonder that the girls preferred to ride in it. They all became tired after a little while, however, and either joined in, or stood to watch, a doubles’ set at tennis. Chance left his car, and joined Mildred Kent beside the tennis court.

Suddenly Jim Stetson began to shout. He was one of the players and had just started service when he dropped ball and racquette and started on a run for the road, yelling:

“Get out of that, Harrington! Drop it!”

At the moment the car began to pop and they all saw it move away from the curb. A slight fellow in a blazer coat, and without a hat, was at the wheel. He was a pasty-faced fellow, thin, unhealthy-looking, and with a pronounced squint in his eyes.

He grinned over his shoulder at Jim, and stuck out his tongue. Meanwhile he put the car up to a good speed and fairly flew away up the drive.

“It’s Harrington M’Kim!” cried Ruth Stetson. “Oh, that boy will do some damage to that car!”

“He’ll wreck it, or break his own neck,” declared Monroe Stevens. “Why did you leave it so it could be started by the first chap that came along, Chance?”

But there was no use in scolding the captain of the Outing Club. Poole’s car was sailing up the drive at a pace which made pursuit afoot a futile game.

“Somebody get out another car and give chase!” cried Jim.

“But then Harrington will only run faster,” objected his sister.

Suddenly they saw the car describe a graceful curve and return toward them. The reckless youth handled Poole’s auto like a veteran.

“We’ve got a chance to stop him when he comes by,” declared Avery.

“How?” sneered Jim Stetson. “He’d run right over you. He wouldn’t care. I tell you he doesn’t act as though he had good sense.”

“What do they let such a fellow go loose for, then?” cried Chance Avery.

As he spoke they were all startled by the change which they saw plainly flash into young Harrington M’Kim’s features. His countenance writhed, he fell back in the seat, let go of the wheel and his body was convulsed in the grip of the epileptic seizure. The automobile was running wild!

CHAPTER XX
OFF ON THE ENDURANCE TEST

The boy was a sad sight himself; but the peril which menaced him and – incidentally – Burton Poole’s auto, moved some of the onlookers more than did the pitiful condition of young Harrington M’Kim.

The car was rushing down toward the Stetson cottage, which was the last house in the row before the drive turned abruptly away from the lake. At this corner a low wall guarded the path; but the bricks were built up only two feet high, and that wildly running auto would mount the sidewalk and this brick wall, too, and be dashed into the water which here lapped the foot of the embankment.

It was a sad predicament for M’Kim. But to one of those who saw the car flying down the drive, the fate of the machine seemed more important than the fate of the boy!

“Stop it! The car will be wrecked!” yelled Chance Avery, and he fairly danced up and down in his excitement. But he did not make any reckless attempt to halt the career of the automobile.

Fortunately the car had been headed straight down the middle of the road before M’Kim’s seizure. It came at fast speed, for the reckless youth had set the gas lever well forward. It swept down upon the horror-stricken group.

It was Dan Speedwell who made the first move. He cleared the sidewalk in three strides and dashed into the road directly in the path of the flying car. The girls screamed again. Mildred Kent called to him.

“Dan! Dannie! You’ll be killed!”

And it did seem an utterly reckless and useless thing for Dan to do. He was putting his life in jeopardy, so it seemed, without there being a possibility of his either aiding the boy in the car, or stopping the auto itself.

The writhing figure on the front seat attracted less attention now than did Dan. They saw him stand, unmoved, directly in the track of the car. The heavy machine rolled down upon him and – it seemed – would crush him in an instant.

It was then that Dan Speedwell leaped aside. The automobile flashed by, but Dan was quick enough to catch hold with both hands.

He was whirled off his feet and was dragged for several yards. Then he got a knee upon the run board, then raised himself, slipped to the wheel, and as the car came to the sharp turn, he threw back the lever, cast out the gear, and guided the fast-flying auto so that it would take the bend in the road on a long curve.

It was all over, then. Dan turned the car about and came easily back before his excited friends reached the corner. M’Kim lay still, the paroxysm past. Dan ran the car in toward the curb and halted.

“Dan! you dear fellow, you!” shouted Burton Poole, first to seize his hand. “I suppose I’m selfish to not think more of M’Kim – but the car! You saved it for us.”

“You’re all right, Dannie,” cried his brother, pumping away at his other hand.

Jim and Fisher Greene raised a more or less familiar chant:

“Dan! Dan! He’s the man! Dan! Dan! Dan Speedwell!”

They were all shouting the chant in a moment – all but Chance Avery. Chance looked the car over to make sure that it was not injured. But he never gave the lad who had saved it a word of thanks. Friends of M’Kim cared for the unfortunate youth.

The pleasant day by the lake passed without incident after that. They rode home in the evening, a merry party indeed. Mildred Kent elected to sit beside Dan in the front seat. There was a new moon riding above the tree-tops, and the stars were brilliant.

“Dannie,” said the girl, laying her friendly hand upon his jacket sleeve, “I want to tell you how proud I am that you stopped that car and saved it from going over the wall. I know Chance Avery has treated you meanly, and it must have taken some effort on your part to jump in and save the car he has boasted is going to beat yours for the golden cup. It was real noble of you – you heaped coals of fire on Avery’s head.”

But Dan and Billy both had occasion to think a good deal about Burton Poole’s automobile before Thanksgiving week came around. Chance Avery allowed no opportunity to pass wherein he could belittle the Speedwells’ drab car, or cast doubt upon the possibility of our heroes getting a hundred miles on the trail laid out by Mr. Briggs for the endurance test.

The circulars containing the rules of the road and other information were studied more than the school text books those final few days before the Thanksgiving vacation. Even Dan, who was particularly faithful to his studies, found it hard to keep up to the mark.

He and Billy had bought maps of the states through which they hoped to travel. The course was laid out as a rough triangle, making Compton the starting point and touching two large cities, bringing up finally at Compton again as a finish. The measured distance over the route chosen was exactly a thousand and eight miles.

They knew that they could easily comply with all the demands Mr. Briggs made, and with all the conditions of the race. They had learned by this time the minutest particulars about their car. Either of the Speedwells could have taken the Breton-Melville auto apart and assembled the parts again perfectly.

Among the Riverdale Outing Club members the interest lay in the rivalry between the local cars, more than in the general outcome of the race. There were to be several contestants from the town in the endurance run, but it was generally acknowledged that none of them had much chance – if the result of the run was governed by speed – saving Burton Poole’s car and that of the Speedwell boys.

And the owners of the Breton-Melville car knew that the speed possibilities of their auto was only a part of the game. It would never do to race over the roads at the pace they had come from Karnac Lake at midnight. No machine, no matter how well built, could stand many miles of such work without shaking to pieces.

The boys had gone over the route by map, and planned just where they would halt for their meals and for necessary sleep. They had read accounts of former runs, and knew about what to expect on the road. Although the run was well advertised, there would doubtless be many obstructions on the route, and the weather, of course, could not be arranged to suit the contestants.

The rules were that any contestant could run ten hours in each twenty-four – consecutively, not otherwise; time lost on repairs or stoppages beyond the automobilists’ control, not allowed. The cars were to be started within ten minutes of each other, and their time would be registered at each station. Stoppages for refreshment, or sleep, had to be reported exactly, too.

One week before the starting of the race there were entered sixty-five cars in the endurance test. Then came the drawings, and Dan and Billy found themselves to be forty-eighth on the list. The first car would be started out of the Compton Motordrome at four o’clock in the morning, and, allowing ten minutes for each car to get under way, the Speedwell boys would not be sent out until ten minutes before noon. Their first day’s run, therefore, would end at ten minutes to ten at night.

The rules allowed them to make the nearest station at the end of a day’s run; but any extra time had to be subtracted from the following day’s schedule. It was a much discussed question as to how long it would take the best car to get over the route under Mr. Briggs’ rules; Dan and Billy believed that it would take between four and five days.

“Twenty miles an hour, on an average, will be mighty good time,” Dan said to his brother. “Of course, we read about sixty, and seventy, and eighty and even ninety and more miles an hour, in automobile racing. We’ve traveled at the rate of ninety miles on our motorcycles – for a mile, or so. But that isn’t what counts.”

“Just the same, if a fellow could get ahead and keep his lead – ” began Billy.

“Yes! Keeping it is what counts. But if any of these fellows start racing over the sort of roads there are between Greenbaugh and Olin City, for instance, they’ll shake their machines to pieces inside of five miles. Remember, we’ve got to climb a mountain chain twice during the run, and it will be a stiff pull each time.”

“Don’t you fret. You’re the doctor,” grunted Billy. “I’m not going to put in my oar. I’ll trust to your judgment every time, old man.”

“Well, I may make a mistake,” admitted Dan. “But I’m glad for one that Chance and Burton are not near us.”

“No, they’re lucky to get away among the first – seven will be tacked onto the hood of their car,” said Billy, who had been studying the advertised list of entries. “And do you notice where Mr. Briggs’ maroon Postlethwaite is? He’s running near us – forty-one.”

“We’ll have good neighbors, then,” chuckled Dan.

“I don’t suppose the cars will remain long in the order they start, do you?”

“I don’t know. We can leave when we please on the second day’s run. I want, if possible, to make the Holly Tree Inn at Farmingdale on our first day.”

“Whew!” ejaculated Billy, after consulting his guide. “That’s three hundred miles – nearly. Do you think we can do it?”

“I don’t know. I mean to try.”

“And you were the one who said that racing wouldn’t pay.”

“And it won’t; but the roads are as good as any we shall have during the entire run. Our car will be – is now, in fact – in perfect shape. If we have any mechanical trouble, Billy, it won’t be on the first day. She can stand thirty miles an hour. We’ll carry our eats with us, and our biggest load will be gasoline. I don’t propose to stop but once a day to buy juice – make up your mind to that, Billy-boy!”

There was an element of chance in the race, however, which lent zest to it. An accident might make even the best of the cars fail to win laurels. Down to the evening before the start, and on the arrival of all of the contestants at the Compton Motordrome, no one could say surely which automobile, and which team, had the better chance of winning the golden cup.

The motordrome was gay with lights and red-fire. There were races, and speeches, and a big crowd assembled and remained all night to see the starting of the first cars. There was an all-night bicycle race for amateurs in which Biff Hardy and Wiley Moyle carried off the honors for the Riverdale Club; but although there were motorcycle races, too, the Speedwells decided to keep out of them. They could not afford to risk an accident.

And there was another thing Dan did not risk. When they left their Breton-Melville under the shed, to go to the big gate and watch the first cars get under way, Dan left somebody to watch the drab auto – and somebody whom he could trust.

The Speedwells stood in the crowd and saw the first cars get away in the light of the search-lamps. It was a cloudy morning and the string of autos up the straight road soon looked like so many glow-worms. When number seven rolled down to the starting line and the big placards were fastened on, fore and aft, Dan and Billy made off for a house where they had engaged a bed. They got five hours refreshing sleep and then had a most excellent breakfast.

When they went back to the motordrome at a few minutes past eleven, they found their father and mother and the children waiting for them. Mr. Speedwell had driven over and brought his boys a great box of lunch to carry in their car. He had engaged a man to help him with the milk routes while Dan and Billy were absent.

There were plenty of Riverdale folk to cheer for the Speedwells as they got away, too. Mildred Kent and Lettie Parker were in the Greenes’ auto and the girls wished the team handling number forty-eight the best of good luck as the drab car started.

The boys waved their caps as the Breton-Melville slid smoothly out of the motordrome gate and over the starter’s line. There was a big crowd in Compton now to watch the remaining cars get under way. The police kept the street open for some distance; then the road broadened and the houses became few and far between.

The shouts of the onlookers grew distant. The drab car began to purr like a great cat. Behind they saw number forty-nine thrusting its battleship prow out of a balloon of dust that traveled with it. Dan advanced the spark. Right before them was number forty-seven, that had started ten minutes earlier. The Breton-Melville, like a drab rocket, curved out for this car and passed it as though forty-seven was at a standstill!

The great race had begun, and Billy, in his heart, secretly counted the passing of this car as the first milestone on their way to victory.