LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

All piled in, and the start for home was begun.

      "I'll wager that Nat Poole, Link Merwell, and Nick Jasniff are the maddest boys in this State," was Phil's comment, as the first car rolled on, with he and Dave on the front seat.

      "I believe you, Phil," answered the driver of the machine. "And if Jasniff and Merwell really do go to Rockville Academy you can make up your mind that they will cause us all the trouble possible."

      "I don't believe the better class of fellows at the military academy will take to those chaps."

      "Neither do I. But there are some mean boys at that school--you remember them--and Merwell and Jasniff will flock with that bunch. Oh, they'll try their best to down us, you see if they don't!" declared Dave.

      On the road beyond the picnic ground they came to a spot where some rocks and logs had been piled up and then taken away again. All gazed at the spot with interest.

      "I guess Pete Barnaby did this--under directions from Nat Poole," said Ben.

      "Yes, and Jed Sully made him, or the Poole crowd, clear it away again," answered Dave. "They'll not close this road as long as Sully is roadmaster."

      "Be on your guard, Dave!" sang out Roger. "Those rascals will play some trick on us, if they can."

      "I'm on the watch!" answered Dave.

      As they bowled along all kept their eyes on the alert, and it was well that they did so, for at a turn they suddenly came upon some broken bottles thrown down just where the machines had to pass. Dave gave a yell of warning, and turned off the power and applied the brakes just in time, and, as before, Roger had to turn into the bushes, to avoid striking the turnout ahead.

      "They thought they'd make us cut our tires," said Dave.

      "Right you are," answered Phil. "Phew! If we had gone over that glass we might have had some nasty punctures or blow-outs."

      "They ought to be arrested for this!" said Sam, wrathfully. "It's against the law to put glass on a public highway."

      "We can't prove they did it," answered Ben. "If we accused them, of course they would deny it. But it shows their meanness."

      The boys got out and picked up some of the glass, and swept the rest aside as well as they could. Then the machines were started up once more, and soon they came in sight of the Hook Stock Farm, and Dave beckoned to a man who stood near the gateway.

      "Have you lost one of your bulls?" he asked.

      "We sure have!" answered the man, quickly. "What do you know about him?"

      "We know he tried to run off with our autos," returned Dave, with a grin, and then told the man the story, and described where the animal could be found. While he was speaking two other stock farm hands came up. They had been looking for the bull since early morning.

      "He's a valuable beast," said one of the men. "I hope he ain't hurt none."

      "He isn't hurt--and we are mighty glad he didn't hurt us," said Phil.

      "Oh, he won't hurt nobody--if he's left alone," said the man.

      "How can he hurt anybody, if he is left alone?" was Roger's dry query. But the man was too dull to see the joke.

      From the stock farm hands, the boys found out which were the best roads to take, and then passed on again, up hill and down dale for a distance of six miles, when they came out on a broad and well-kept highway.

      "Good! This is what I like!" cried Dave, and turned on the power until the touring car was moving along at a lively rate. Roger "hit her up," as he called it, also, and before long they had covered an additional ten miles. Then they had to go over a hill, beyond which lay the village of Lester.

      "Let us stop at Lester for some ice-cream soda," whispered Phil to Dave, and the latter agreed.

      At the foot of the hill there was a turn, and Dave slowed up to make this, and Roger did likewise. Then, as they passed a deep and muddy ditch, Dave gave a cry and came to a stop.

      "Look there!" he called out, pointing down into the ditch.

      All gazed to where he pointed. There, in the water and mud, rested the racing car belonging to Pete Barnaby. And standing in the mud up to his knees was the sporty man himself, looking the picture of woeful despair.

      CHAPTER VI

      A TALK WITH AARON POOLE

      As the boys halted their touring cars and gazed at the racing car and its owner, they could not help but smile, and Phil laughed outright.

      "How did it happen?" asked Dave, in as kindly a tone as he could assume, for he saw that Pete Barnaby was in serious trouble. The turnout had landed in a particularly soft spot, and was settling deeper and deeper every minute.

      "None of your business!" growled the sporty man, wrathfully.

      "Oh, all right!" returned Dave, coldly. "I thought maybe you would want us to help you."

      "Precious little help I'd get from you chaps!" grumbled Pete Barnaby.

      "You might get some if you would act half civil," answered Dave.

      "Humph! I suppose you want me to ask you to help me, so that you can have the pleasure of refusing me, eh?"

      "No, if I can aid you I will," answered Dave, promptly.

      "He doesn't deserve any help," whispered Phil.

      "I know that, Phil," answered Dave. "But I'd hate to leave him in the lurch. Why, that machine may sink so deep nobody could get it out."

      "If you'll haul me out I'll pay you for your trouble," said Pete Barnaby, gruffly. "It's an easy way to earn ten dollars."

      "I don't want your money," replied Dave. "I'll do what I can."

      "So will I," added Roger. "The two machines together ought to be able to do the trick."

      "Do you really mean it?" asked the sporty man, and now his voice had a ring of hope in it.

      "Yes," said the senator's son, and Dave nodded.

      The boys got out, and from the three cars ropes were produced and tied together, and the two touring cars were hooked one in front of the other, and then made fast to the racing car.

      "Don't haul too hard at the start," begged Pete Barnaby. "If you do you may pull my car apart."

      "We'll be careful," answered Dave. He turned to his chum. "Remember, Roger, we've got eighty horse-power hooked up here."

      "I'll be on my guard," answered the senator's son. "But remember," he added to Pete Barnaby, "we are not to be responsible if the hauling breaks your car."

      "I'll run that risk--only go slow," answered the man in trouble.

      The rope had been made as long as possible, so that the stalled car could be drawn out of the ditch lengthwise instead of sidewise. The two cars in the road started up on low speed, and gradually the rope grew taut.

      "Look out, everybody, in case that rope snaps!" cried Ben. "I once heard of a rope like that snapping and killing a house-mover."

      "You are cheerful, I must say," was Sam's dry comment. Nevertheless, all were on their guard as the rope grew as tight as a string on a bow.

      "She ain't moving yet!" cried Pete Barnaby. He stood by the side of his machine watching the rope closely.

      Hardly had he spoken when there came a slow, sucking sound, as the wheels left their bed of soft mud. Then the racing machine moved forward slowly.

      "Hurrah!

Скачать книгу