*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50282 ***

[Illustration:

  THE AUTOMOBILES CAME THROUGH SO CLOSE TOGETHER.
  _Speedwell Boys and their Racing Auto_    _Page_ 161
]

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                           The Speedwell Boys
                         and Their Racing Auto


                                   Or

                        A Run for the Golden Cup




                                   BY
                              ROY ROCKWOOD
          AUTHOR OF “THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTORCYCLES,” “THE
                   DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES,” “THE GREAT
                          MARVEL SERIES,” ETC.




                              ILLUSTRATED




                                NEW YORK
                         CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
                               PUBLISHERS

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                             BOOKS FOR BOYS
                            BY ROY ROCKWOOD

                       THE SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES
                       12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

               THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTORCYCLES
               THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR RACING AUTO
               THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR POWER LAUNCH
               THE SPEEDWELL BOYS IN A SUBMARINE

                        THE DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES
                       12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

                  DAVE DASHAWAY THE YOUNG AVIATOR
                  DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS HYDROPLANE
                  DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS GIANT AIRSHIP
                  DAVE DASHAWAY AROUND THE WORLD

                        THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES
                       12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

                   THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH POLE
                   UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE
                   FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND
                   THROUGH SPACE TO MARS
                   LOST ON THE MOON

                CUPPLES & LEON CO. PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

                          Copyrighted 1913, by
                         CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

                             --------------

                THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR RACING AUTO

                                                     Printed in U. S. A.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                CONTENTS

              CHAPTER                                 PAGE
                   I. THE MANŒUVERS OF MAXEY             1
                  II. DAN SPEEDWELL AT HIS BEST          7
                 III. MYSTERY OF THE MAROON CAR         14
                  IV. BILLY ACTS ON IMPULSE             25
                   V. THE ROBBERY OF THE BANK           32
                  VI. A FIRST DIFFICULTY                39
                 VII. THE HAND IN THE DARK              48
                VIII. ON WATCH                          57
                  IX. THIEVES IN THE NIGHT              64
                   X. JOSIAH SOMES ON THE WARPATH       72
                  XI. ON A HOT TRAIL                    79
                 XII. A GREAT RUN                       84
                XIII. A SHARP TURN                      93
                 XIV. A FAILURE AND A SUCCESS           99
                  XV. SECRET SERVICE                   105
                 XVI. INGRATITUDE OF CHANCE AVERY      113
                XVII. A FRIEND IN NEED                 118
               XVIII. ON THE ROAD TO KARNAC LAKE       126
                 XIX. AN EXCITING RUN                  135
                  XX. ON THE ENDURANCE TEST            145
                 XXI. THE FIRST TEN HOURS              156
                XXII. UNDERHAND WORK                   167
               XXIII. QUEER ACTIONS OF NO. 41          177
                XXIV. AN OBSTACLE RACE                 189
                 XXV. THE CAR AND THE CUP              197

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                           THE SPEEDWELL BOYS
                         AND THEIR RACING AUTO




                               CHAPTER I

                         THE MANŒUVERS OF MAXEY


“Say, fellows! Look at what’s coming!”

“Oh, my eyes! See him wabble! Why, he’ll be over the wall into the
river, machine and all, if he doesn’t watch out.”

“Say, Dan, did you ever see a fellow run a car as bad as Maxey? If we
didn’t know better we’d think he had a fit,” declared Billy Speedwell,
who sat with his brother, and several of their chums, on a high, grassy
bank overlooking the Colasha River and above the road, a mile or two
below Riverdale.

“He certainly does make a mess of it,” admitted the older Speedwell lad,
gazing down the road, as were his friends, at a drab-painted automobile
which was approaching them.

They were five boys, all members of the Riverdale Outing Club and all
rode motorcycles which just now were leaning, in a row, against the
bank. The chums had come out after school for a short spin into the
country. It was fall, which fact was proven by the brilliant coloring of
the leaves.

Beyond where the Riverdale boys lay on the short turf, and coming toward
them, was the erratically-guided car. The drab racer seldom kept the
middle of the road for a full minute at a time. It actually “wabbled,”
just as Jim Stetson said.

And yet the fellow at the wheel of the machine had been driving it up
and down the roads for nearly three months.

No instruction, and no practice, seemed to avail with Maxey Solomons,
however. His father was one of the richest men in the county, and when
Maxey expressed a wish to own and drive a car, Mr. Solomons made no
objection. Indeed, the wealthy clothing manufacturer seldom thwarted the
least of his son’s desires.

But the drab auto seemed aiming for trouble now. It nearly ran up the
bank on the inner side of the road; then it shifted to the other side
under the manipulation of Maxey at the steering wheel, just grazing the
stone fence that separated the highway at this point from the sheer drop
of fifty feet or more to the bank of the river.

“As sure as you live,” cried Monroe Stevens, “he’ll back over the dump!”

The boys with the motorcycles jumped to their feet the better to watch
the manœuvers of the drab car and its owner. Shaving the stone wall,
Maxey came back into the middle of the road and wabbled along for some
rods toward the group of Riverdale youths.

Suddenly the spectators heard the purring of a fast moving car coming
from the direction of the town. The road was quite straight for a couple
of miles here; but there was a sharp turn behind the group of boys that
hid the approaching car.

They knew it was coming at great speed. No warning was sounded on the
horn as the car approached the turn. The driver of the unknown auto was
very reckless.

Dan Speedwell was first to realize that Maxey Solomons was very likely
to get into much more serious trouble than he was having at the moment,
if the fast motor car swept around the corner upon him without any
warning. It was well known that the only really successful way by which
Maxey could pass any vehicle on the road, was by pulling out to one
side, and stopping until the other machine went by!

Although moving so slowly, the drab car was steadily approaching the
turn in the highway. Maxey was not two hundred yards from where the boys
stood upon the grassy bank.

Knowing that he would only startle Maxey by running toward him, Dan
leaped away in the other direction. He reached the turn in the road and
saw the racing automobile coming in a cloud of dust.

Surely the reckless driver of the machine must slow down to round this
curve. Dan Speedwell could see him plainly—a little, goggled-eyed
fellow, completely disguised in coat and motor-cap, alone in the
driver’s seat.

There were two passengers, however, and Dan knew that they must see him
as he sprang out upon a jutting tree-root, and waved his cap wildly to
attract their attention. One of the men leaned forward and tapped the
chauffeur on the shoulder. He pointed to Dan above them on the bank; but
the boy’s warning motions did not seem to do the least bit of good. The
driver of the madly-running car did not reduce its speed.

On came the racing automobile, and the cloud of dust which traveled with
it flew down to the curve in the road. The driver shifted his wheel and
the machine took the turn on its outer tires, with the others in the
air—Dan could actually see daylight between the wheels and the ground.

The boy saw, too, that it was a heavy touring car; that it was painted
maroon, and that a blanket, or robe was trailing over the back of the
tonneau, fairly dragging in the dust, in fact, and so hiding the plate
on which was the license number.

Without a single blast of the horn the car charged around the bend. The
group of boys on the bank yelled excitedly at Maxey down below. That
erratic youth beheld the maroon car coming and literally “threw up his
hands!”

The road was wide enough so that the racing car could have passed
Maxey’s machine on the outside. But, unfortunately, it had stopped so
that the rear wheels, bearing the larger weight of the car, was on the
outer slope of the roadway, which was rounded to properly shed the
water. The drab car began to run backward. Maxey did not know enough to
put on the brakes.

The few seconds that elapsed after the fast-traveling auto came around
the bend in the road would not have been sufficient for the chauffeur of
that car to stop; and he merely swerved to the outer side of the road,
intending to pass Maxey’s stalled car at full speed.

Maxey himself was immovable with terror at the appearance of the
charging auto. He could not even leap from his seat. And when his own
car began to run backward, directly into the path of the other machine,
young Solomons only opened his mouth to emit a yell.

The drab car ran back into the shallow gutter. The stone wall behind it
needed some repairs, several of the top layer of stones having fallen
into the chasm below the road. This left the barrier at the spot
scarcely eighteen inches high.

The unguided motor car ran back until its rear wheels came against this
broken wall. The chauffeur of the maroon automobile swerved his car
again, but only slightly. His heavier machine, running fast, charged
down upon poor Maxey and his car like a huge battering-ram.

There was nothing the boys on the bank could do to save Maxey, or his
car. And, at that late moment, there was little the wheelman of the
maroon car could do to avert the catastrophe. His reckless driving of
his machine made it impossible for him to stop in time.

The collision stopped Maxey’s cry of fright in the middle. The lighter
car was flung up and backward by the swiftly moving and heavier touring
automobile. The latter passed on in a flash, and practically unharmed.
The drab car was flung over the low stone wall and, upside down, with
the cushions and other gear raining from it, dropped into space.




                               CHAPTER II

                       DAN SPEEDWELL AT HIS BEST


Billy Speedwell, at the head of the other lads, leaped into the road and
sprinted to the spot where Maxey’s automobile had been thrown over the
embankment. They saw that the unfortunate youth had clung to his wheel;
but he had gone out of sight with the wreckage.

Their interest in and sympathy for Maxey blinded them to the further
actions of the maroon car and the three men in it. But Dan Speedwell,
coming back toward the scene of the catastrophe, noted well the conduct
of these men.

The chauffeur had made no proper attempt to avoid the collision; and now
he neither slowed down nor glanced back to see what had become of the
drab car and its driver.

When Dan Speedwell reached the place where his motorcycle rested beside
the road, in company with those of the other boys, the maroon car was a
mile away along the straight highway. There was plainly no intention on
the part of the three men to stop and inquire as to the damage their car
had done.

The other boys thought only of Maxey and his machine. Dan, angered by
the indifference of the other automobilists, had no intention of letting
them escape if he could help it. His mind was made up on the instant. He
seized his wheel and rolled it out into the road.

The balloon of smoke which trailed the flying maroon car was already far
down the road. It seemed impossible for a boy on a motorcycle to seek to
overtake that flying vehicle. But Dan knew that farther on the
automobile could not safely maintain its present pace, and he knew
likewise the speed which he could get out of his machine.

Dan and Billy Speedwell had owned their motorcycles a short time only;
but within that time they had learned to handle the machines with the
best. Both at the Compton motordrome, and in the Riverdale baseball park
the Speedwell boys had won high place in trials of speed. These races
are narrated in the first volume of this series, entitled: “The
Speedwell Boys on Motorcycles.”

Their Flying Feathers, the newest model produced by the Darringford
Machine Shops, in Riverdale, had been given to the brothers by Robert
Darringford whose life Dan and Billy had saved from a fire that had
destroyed a part of the machine shop plant.

Their parents were not in circumstances to give the boys such expensive
gifts as two hundred dollar motorcycles. Mr. Speedwell owned some dairy
cows and a few acres of land on the outskirts of Riverdale, and Dan and
Billy delivered the milk to their customers in town, even during the
school terms. When this story opened it chanced to be a Saturday
afternoon, or the Speedwell brothers would not have been idling here
with their friends on the river road.

What Dan knew he could do under favorable conditions with his Flying
Feather urged him to start in pursuit of the heartless trio who had left
Maxey Solomons and his wrecked car to their fate.

Before the other boys missed him, Dan’s machine was popping like the
explosion of an automatic gun, and he was several rods away from the
scene of the collision. The youth settled himself firmly in his seat,
opened his engine to almost its highest speed, and dashed away along the
road.

The lad did not sight that car, however, for some time. The river road
followed the winding course of the stream itself, and it was fringed
with woods for a good part of the way. There were few dwellings on the
highway between Riverdale and Upton Falls. The men in the car could have
chosen no better stretch of road in the county for escape. There were
likely to be few vehicles, and no constables at all at this hour of the
day.

It was perilous to run so fast on a public road, even when the way was
as smooth and well kept as this highway to Upton Falls. But the act of
those men in the racing automobile had roused Dan Speedwell’s
indignation. For all he knew, Maxey Solomons had met serious injury in
the wreck of his auto; the men guilty of the crime must be apprehended.

On this hard track the automobile ahead left no trail; but for the first
few miles Dan was positive that the maroon car had not gone into any
by-way. In fact, there were no by-ways save into private estates, and
those offered no escape for the fugitives.

The youth was quite sure that the men were strangers in the vicinity; he
was confident that the car was not familiar to the locality, at least,
for he and Billy were so much interested in the automobile game that
there was not a car in this end of the county that they did not know.

The three men were strangers. They had deliberately made it impossible
for anyone to read the numbers on the license behind the car. They were
evidently of that reckless class of automobilists who ride through the
country districts with regard for neither law nor safety.

A few moments only had elapsed since Dan started after the car when he
reached the first public cross-road—a highway turning away from the
river. But this road was macadamized, too, and offered no trace of the
automobile’s wheels. However, Dan did not believe the trio in the maroon
auto would turn aside, and he kept straight on.

Although the distance to Upton Falls was considerable, the pace of the
motorcycle ate up the miles speedily. Dan and his steed of steel came
soon to the outskirts of the town. The pedestrians he passed looked
after the flying boy with wonder. Dan reached the head of Main street
and, as he began its descent toward Market Square, and the hotel, he saw
an automobile standing before the wide porch of the latter building.

The maroon car! Dan was sure of it even at that distance. The trio of
reckless men who had perhaps injured Maxey Solomons had stayed their
flight at the Falls hotel.

Even as Dan sped down the street, however, he observed that the men he
followed were climbing into their car again. The blanket had been drawn
in over the back seat of the car and the movements of the three were
leisurely enough. They were probably convinced that there was no
pursuit.

The boy saw several men in the square whom he knew. One was a deputy
sheriff and this officer stepped quickly out into the street and held up
his hand for Dan and his Flying Feather to reduce speed.

Dan shut off his engine. The maroon car was just starting. The short man
at the wheel guided the auto carefully out into the road, and turned
toward the highway that led to Barnegat.

“Stop them!” cried Dan, waving his hand at the departing auto. “Arrest
those men, Mr. Polk!”

“What do you mean, Dan?” demanded the deputy, running along by the boy’s
side as the Flying Feather slowed down.

“Do as I say! They’ve perhaps killed a boy up the road. At any rate,
they smashed his automobile. Then they drove on, full tilt, and I
followed them.”

“Nonsense, Dan! Not those men,” cried Mr. Polk.

“Yes they did. I tell you it was a maroon car, with three men in it. I
was close enough.”

“To see the license numbers?” interrupted the deputy sheriff.

“They had the sign covered. But they came this way and I have followed
them too closely to be mistaken. Stop them, I say!”

“Dan! you don’t know who these men are,” gasped Mr. Polk, as the
motorcycle came to a halt and the excited boy leaped off.

“I don’t care who they are!” declared Speedwell, his righteous
indignation still inspiring him. “I saw what they did——”

“Are you sure? Can’t you be mistaken?”

“Didn’t they just come from Riverdale?”

“Ye-es. They came from that direction.”

“And I have been chasing them. There was no other car.”

“But the gentlemen are beyond suspicion of any such act as you relate,
Dan!” cried the deputy sheriff. “One of them is Thomas Armitage, of
Compton, and the other is Raleigh Briggs, who has offered the prize for
the cross-country run of a thousand miles which is to be arranged next
month—you’ve heard of it. Why, Dan, neither of them would allow his
chauffeur to commit such an act of violence as you relate.”




                              CHAPTER III

                     THE MYSTERY OF THE MAROON CAR


Dan Speedwell was completely taken aback by this statement of the deputy
sheriff. He knew that Mr. Polk must have surety for his words. The men
in the maroon automobile were well known and perfectly responsible
citizens.

Indeed, as Dan wheeled his motorcycle nearer to the car he saw that the
two in the tonneau of the auto were much different-looking individuals
from those he expected to find. The men who had wrecked Maxey Solomons’
auto, and perhaps killed the young man himself, would certainly not
possess the personal appearance of these gentlemen!

Mr. Briggs Dan knew by reputation. He was the most enthusiastic motorist
in Crandall County. The thousand mile endurance test which he had
suggested, and to the winner of which he had promised a gold cup,
interested Dan and Billy Speedwell not a little, although they owned no
automobile, and at this time had no immediate expectation of getting a
car.

“What does the young man want, Polk?” inquired Mr. Armitage, a
gray-mustached man with a ruddy face and pleasant smile. “He asked us to
stop; didn’t he?”

“There’s a mistake been made somewhere, Mr. Armitage,” declared the
deputy sheriff, with some hesitation. “Dan is a good boy, and
trustworthy. But it seems he has been following you and Mr. Briggs on
his motorcycle——”

“What for?” asked the gentleman, quickly.

“Because of something that happened up the road. He says that the
automobile he followed wrecked another machine and hurt the driver.”

“Our auto?” cried Mr. Armitage.

“Why, Dan says it was a maroon car, like yours, and that it came direct
from Riverdale.”

“By which road?” asked Mr. Briggs, quickly.

“The river road,” said Dan. “I was sure I had followed the right
car—there was no other all the way.”

“But we did not come to the Falls that way,” said Mr. Briggs. “We
traveled by the pike, and we stopped at Mr. Maury’s place for some
minutes.”

“Oh, I know it could not have been your machine,” said Dan, hastily.
“The men who ran down Maxey Solomons have escaped by some means. They
must have taken a cross road toward the other side of the county.”

“You did not get their number?”

Dan quickly related the incidents which had brought him to this place,
and in such haste. The gentlemen in the car were sympathetic and
interested.

“Come!” said, Mr. Armitage, “this matter must be looked into. The
rascals should be apprehended. They are getting farther and farther away
each minute, it is likely. Come, Briggs, what do you say? You have been
bragging about the speed of this car. Let’s see what Henri can get out
of her.”

“I am with you, Armitage,” declared his friend. “Hop aboard, Polk. You
are a county officer. Those men must be arrested, if possible, and held
until we learn what damage they have done.”

“I’ll go with you, Mr. Briggs,” said the deputy.

He leaped into the tonneau. Mr. Armitage looked at Dan, who stood by his
motorcycle.

“The boy had better go with us,” said Mr. Armitage. “He is evidently an
observant lad, and he will not be likely to make a second mistake in the
automobile.”

“Yes! let the boy come,” said Mr. Briggs. “If he was a witness to the
accident he speaks of, we will need his testimony if we overtake the
guilty ones.”

“But my machine?” said Dan, doubtfully.

“Lift it right up here,” commanded Mr. Briggs. “We’ll fasten it on the
running board. Then, young man, you get in beside Henri, and we’ll be
off.”

Dan was quick to obey these suggestions. His Flying Feather he stood
upright on the running board of the car, and he saw that it was fastened
securely. In five minutes they were off, after Mr. Polk left word at the
sheriff’s office for the officers to watch for the mysterious car and
its three occupants.

The auto dashed off along the pike toward Riverdale. There were three
cross roads that the offenders against law might have taken, as long as
they did not complete their run to Upton Falls. But there were by-roads,
too, on which they might have hidden and the deputy sheriff advised
stopping to inquire at every farmhouse, and of every teamster whom they
met. It was some time, however, ere they picked up the trail of the
maroon car, and then they obtained the clue in quite a strange way.

As they came to the lane leading up to a barn, the farmer came running
out with a pitch fork in his hand. Before Mr. Polk could speak, the man
demanded:

“Ye got ’em, hev ye, Sheriff? Wa’al I’m glad of it! I’ll go right down
with ye t’ th’ ’squire’s office, an’ I guess, he’ll make ’em pay a
pretty price for their fun. That calf of mine run int’ a barbed wire
fence an’ tore herself all up——”

“Hold on, Mr. Jackson!” exclaimed the deputy. “You’re getting your dates
mixed, I guess. These gentlemen certainly have done you no harm.”

“No harm!” yelled the farmer. “When they come up through the Indian
Bridge road not an hour ago, they skeered my heifer into a conniption
fit, and come pretty nigh runnin’ over _me_ when I come out at ’em.”

“Not _these_ gentlemen,” said Polk. “I can vouch for them. One is Mr.
Thomas Armitage, whom you ought to know, Jackson.”

“I swan!” exclaimed the farmer. “I voted for him for Congress.”

“Much obliged to you, I am sure,” said Mr. Armitage. “And I hope that
you will not think I so illy deserved your vote as to race an automobile
through these roads to the endangering of life and limb of good
citizens.”

“Wa’al!” ejaculated the puzzled Mr. Jackson, “it was a car jest the same
color as yours, Mr. Armitage.”

“And how many men were in it, Mr. Jackson?” interposed Polk.

“Come to think on’t, there warn’t but three,” admitted the farmer.

“Did you see the license number?”

“Not much! They went so quick I couldn’t see much but the color of the
car.”

“And in which direction did they disappear?” asked the deputy.

The farmer pointed up the side road, away from the river.

“They are making for the railroad,” declared Mr. Briggs, in some
excitement. “Drive ahead, Henri.”

They came to the railroad—the Barnegat & Montrose Branch of the R., V. &
D.—and halted long enough to speak to the flagman. He had seen the
flying car, too. They were on the right track.

But a mile beyond the pursuing party came to a place where the highway
branched in three directions. There was no house in sight. The escaping
car might have taken any one of the roads.

“We’re stuck!” ejaculated Mr. Polk. “We might as well take one at random
and see if we can run down a clue upon it.”

“Wait!” urged Dan Speedwell. “Perhaps I can do better than that.”

He got out of the machine and ran into the first road at the right. He
had noticed that these highways here were not so well made as those
nearer the river. There was a chance that he might find some trace of
the passing of the strange car which they followed.

And he was right in this surmise, although he did not find it in this
first road. Marks of the tires of an automobile—and fresh marks—were
visible in the middle road. As far as Dan could see no other machine had
passed this way.

He leaped back beside the chauffeur and they drove on again at top
speed. A mile beyond they halted at a farm house to inquire. The passing
of an automobile in a cloud of dust had been noticed less than an hour
before; but the sight was too common to have attracted much attention,
and the occupants of the house had been too far from the road to note
the color of the machine, or the number of men in it.

Mr. Briggs’ car was certainly fast, and Mr. Briggs’ chauffeur was the
most marvelous manipulator of an automobile that Dan Speedwell had ever
seen. And to sit directly beside the Frenchman and observe the skill and
art with which he handled the levers and the wheel was a sheer delight
to the boy.

He thought to himself:

“Ah! if Billy and I only owned an auto! If we could only take part in
this endurance test that Mr. Briggs is going to arrange! If we could
handle an auto half as well as this Frenchman!”

But the boy’s thoughts were disturbed suddenly by Mr. Polk, who
remarked:

“It looks to me as though these fellows were aiming for Port Luther, or
even Cadenz. Unless they turn back toward Riverdale and Compton they
will be obliged to strike some of the coast towns.”

“Quite right, Polk,” admitted Mr. Armitage.

“Then, here is Landers Station just ahead. There is a train coming down
now. I’ll take that train and go on. The railroad is more direct than
the highways and I may be able to head those fellows off at Port
Luther.”

“And we stick to the trail in the car, Polk!” agreed the gentleman.
“What do you say, Briggs?”

“It suits me. Henri, shall I take your place for a while?” Mr. Briggs
asked his chauffeur.

“The young man here will change with me, Monsieur,” returned the kindly
Frenchman, who had seen how eagerly interested Dan was in the management
of the automobile.

And when they halted at the railroad station to allow the deputy sheriff
to take the train, the chauffeur did indeed change places with Dan
Speedwell. Once at the wheel the youth proved that Henri had not been
mistaken in him. For a lad of sixteen Dan handled the car with great
dexterity.

The maroon car was out of sight of the station before the train bearing
the deputy was on its way again; but the automobilists were obliged to
halt frequently to inquire for the motor car of which they were in
pursuit. And there were more autos than one ahead of them now. Sometimes
they lost the trail of the maroon car completely; but when they reached
the lively little town of Larned they learned that the fugitives had
halted at the local garage for gasoline, and that they had left, still
following the road toward the coast, but at a moderate pace.

“Half an hour behind them—or thereabout,” exclaimed Mr. Armitage, with
satisfaction. “We should be able to pick that up.”

But even as they started from the garage they met with an accident. A
forward tire blew out and the car came down with a solid bump on the
roadway.

“Now!” cried Mr. Armitage. “Look at this delay! Isn’t it abominable?”

But Mr. Briggs was a man of quick thought. He was observant, too. He
spoke to the owner of the garage. There was a good car standing on the
floor and it was for hire. In two minutes it had been run out, Henri was
at the wheel, and Mr. Armitage and Mr. Briggs in the tonneau of the
hired machine.

Dan had expressed his desire to return to Riverdale. It would soon be
night, and he and Billy had many chores to do. They were now thirty
miles from home, and the boy feared to go farther without permission
from his parents.

“And quite right,” Mr. Armitage said. “But hold yourself ready
to-morrow, my boy, if we have the good fortune to overtake those fellows
in the maroon car. We shall need you for a witness.”

Dan promised and Mr. Briggs, who had consulted with Henri for a moment,
said:

“My chauffeur tells me that you are quite able to run our car back to
Holliday’s garage at Riverdale. This man here will put on a new tire and
you can get back to town easier in my car than on your machine. Do you
want to do me that favor?”

Dan’s sparkling eyes and flushed face replied for him before his lips
could form the words. It was so decided, and the others got off quickly
in the hired auto. Within the hour Dan started the beautiful touring car
on the back track, delighted with his charge, and looking forward to
nothing more than a pleasant run over familiar roads to his home town.

It was growing dusk, however, long before he reached Riverdale. Indeed
he was all of ten miles from the town when he stopped to light his
lamps. Before he started the auto again he observed another car bearing
down upon him from ahead, its lights blazing in the dusk.

Dan had pulled out to the side of the road and apprehended no danger.
But the coming car was braked quickly when a few rods from him, and its
driver brought it to a complete stop beside Mr. Briggs’ vehicle.

One of the four men in the machine leaped out and, to Dan’s amazement,
stepped into the front of the maroon car beside him.

“Hold up your hands!” commanded this man, in excited tones. “We’ve got
_you_, at least, if your pals have escaped. Hold up your hands!”

Dan shrank back and demanded a reason for threatening him in this savage
way.

“You know what I want,” said the man. “You are in the hands of the law.
I arrest you, for the robbery of the Farmers’ National Bank at
Riverdale!”




                               CHAPTER IV

                         BILLY ACTS ON IMPULSE


The sight of Maxey Solomons and his automobile tossed over the
embankment and out of view—as a mad bull might toss a dog—frightened
Billy Speedwell and his mates; at the moment they did not, like Dan,
think of bringing the three men in the maroon motor car to account for
their rashness.

With cries of fear they ran along the road to the broken place in the
stone wall. Motor car and driver had disappeared over the brink of the
chasm. The tops of several trees, the roots of which were embedded in
the soil of the river bank, were visible above the wall. The motor car
had crashed into these tree-tops; but the boys did not dream, at first,
that the branches would stay such a heavy object.

When they came to the break in the stone wall and leaned over it, they
saw the drab automobile hanging in the air, not more than twenty feet
below the road. It was upside down and it had stuck in the crotched
branches of two of the tall trees.

At first they saw nothing of Maxey; but of course, they could not see to
the ground at the foot of the fifty-foot precipice over which young
Solomons and his automobile had fallen.

“He’s dead!” groaned Monroe Stevens.

“Crushed to death down there—poor chap!” agreed Jim Stetson.

“My goodness!” said Billy. “Who’ll tell his father? The old gentleman
will be all broken up. He just about lived for Maxey.”

“And the auto isn’t worth a cent, either,” added Brace Henderson.

At that moment a muffled voice reached their ears, and startled them
all.

“Help! Mercy on us—isn’t this dreadful? Help!”

Billy cried his surprise ahead of the others:

“It’s Maxey! He is under the auto!”

They could not see the owner of the wrecked car—not even his legs
dangled into view. But Maxey’s voice was unmistakable.

“What you doing down there, Max?” cried Monroe Stevens, loudly. “Why
don’t you crawl out?”

“I can’t!” wailed the voice of the hidden youth.

“Why can’t you?” queried Henderson.

“I don’t dare,” admitted Solomons.

All the cushions of the automobile had rattled to the ground. Its driver
was clinging to the wheel, or some other stationary fixture, and not
being a particularly brave youth, he could only hang on.

“Somebody’s got to help him,” declared Billy.

“But we haven’t a rope,” objected Jim Stetson. “How can we get him up
here?”

“Belts, boys!” cried the quick-witted Billy Speedwell. “Buckle ’em
together. I can jump into the top of one of those trees, and I’ll carry
the line of belts down, fasten it to the tree, and then to Maxey, and
swing him off.”

“You’ll fall, Billy,” objected Monroe, who was older and felt himself
responsible for Billy’s safety, now that Dan had gone.

“Not a bit of it!” declared Billy. “Come on with the belts.”

There being no better way suggested, the boys followed Billy’s plan.
They watched him in some trepidation, however, as he let himself over
the broken wall and leaped for a swinging branch of one of the trees
into which the automobile had fallen.

He reached a limb directly below Maxey. That young man was clinging—as
Billy had supposed—to the steering gear. He was afraid to drop upon the
limb where Billy stood. Indeed, had he done so, he would have had no
means of balancing himself. Billy Speedwell had kicked off his shoes
before descending the tree and he was barely able to keep his
equilibrium.

“Catch the end of this belt, Maxey!” he cried.

“Oh, I can’t!”

“I tell you that you’ve got to!”

But, although Maxey was usually easily influenced, Billy could not put
pluck into him at this juncture. The younger boy had to finally climb
into the overturned automobile, cling with one hand and his feet to the
car, and buckle an end of the string of belts around Maxey’s waist.

The rescuer tossed the end of the line of belts to Monroe and Brace
Henderson, and they helped Maxey out upon the roadway again. Billy
followed, and when the adventure was over not alone Maxey Solomons, but
the boys of the Riverdale Club, felt the reaction. The peril threatening
the owner of the wrecked automobile had indeed been great.

“I’m afraid your car is done for, Maxey,” said Monroe Stevens, with
sympathy.

“I don’t care!” sighed the rich man’s son. “I wouldn’t ride home in it
if it was right-side up here in the road. I never want to ride in a
motor car again.”

“Pshaw!” said Jim. “Now you’re talking reckless. It’s too bad you’ve got
the car in that bad fix.”

“I tell you I don’t want the car. If it can be got out of the tree I’ll
sell it. I won’t ever ride in it again.”

“You don’t mean that, Maxey?” said Billy, earnestly.

“Yes, I do.”

“But it’s a new machine.”

“I’d sell her for half what she’s worth,” Maxey persisted.

Monroe Stevens laughed, and said: “According to your own tell, Maxey,
she isn’t worth anything.”

“But, if anybody thinks she’s worth buying?” began the owner.

“Isn’t that just like you?” cried Jim. “I suppose you’d want half what
your father paid for her.”

“I might want—but would I get it?” returned Maxey, shrewdly.

“Just _what_ will you take for the car?” demanded Billy, still in
earnest.

Monroe Stevens looked at Speedwell suddenly, and with interest.

“My gracious, Billy! I forgot that you and Dan are capitalists. You
_could_ buy old Maxey out, couldn’t you?”

“So he could,” cried Jim. “Billy and Dan banked the thousand dollars
reward the Darringfords offered for the apprehension of the fellow who
set the shops afire. Now, Maxey, if you really want to sell, you’d
better put a real price on your car.”

Billy flushed. He was stirred by impulse to buy the wrecked car. He had
seen just how badly it was smashed and he knew that if Maxey would sell
cheap enough somebody would get a bargain. The drab racing machine was
of a standard make and there was good reason why Maxey might have
thought of entering it in the thousand mile endurance run. A car of the
same kind had won such a contest only the season before.

Young Solomons looked at Billy thoughtfully. Something seemed to be
working in his mind.

“You came down and saved me, Billy Speedwell,” he said. “Of course, the
other boys helped, and I’m grateful to all of you. But Billy came first
to my help.”

“Shucks!” grunted Billy. “Forget it!”

“No. I’m not likely to forget it,” returned Maxey, gravely. “If you want
that car—just as it lies there in the tree-top—you can have it for five
hundred dollars. She cost twenty-two hundred and fifty. I can show you
the receipted bill.”

“Whew!” cried Jim. “You don’t want anything for it, do you, Maxey? I
don’t believe you can get it out of the tree.”

But Billy had made up his mind already about that phase of the matter.
And how he wanted to own that racing car!

He and Dan had watched the auto as it was handled by the professional
chauffeur, and knew that it was a wonderfully good machine. But if the
car was lifted safely back to the road, it would cost a good deal to
rebuild it and put it in running shape again. Still——

“I’ll think about it, Maxey,” he said, slowly.

“No, Billy,” said the owner of the wrecked car, seriously. “If you take
time to think about it, so will _I_ take time to think about it. I won’t
feel the way I do now, to-morrow maybe. You see? You can have it _now_
for five hundred dollars. I maybe won’t want to sell at all when I think
about it a while.”

Both Dan and Billy had put their money into the bank untouched. Billy
had just an even five hundred dollars. He could not expect Dan to back
him up with any of his money in such a wild bargain as this. But there
was the car—Billy believed it could be saved and repaired for a
comparatively small sum—and one-fourth of its purchase price, for a car
less than three months old, was a bargain indeed!

Billy took it.




                               CHAPTER V

                        THE ROBBERY AT THE BANK


Dan Speedwell, in Mr. Briggs’ maroon car, was at first badly frightened,
and then angry. The pressure of the muzzle of a revolver against his
stomach precluded his seeing the humor of the situation.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed. “Take it away!”

“Surrender!” cried the man with the weapon, and then Dan realized that
his captor was Josiah Somes, one of Riverdale’s constables, and a
pompous, officious little man.

“Surrender, in the name of the law!” repeated Mr. Somes, using the
instrument a good deal like a gimlet.

“Oh!” gasped Dan. “Who do you think you’ve got hold of, Somes?”

“Eh? Ye know me, do ye?” growled the constable. “Then, Mr. Bank Robber,
you know that Josiah Somes ain’t to be fooled with.”

“I don’t want to fool with you when you act so careless with that
pistol. Take that gun away!” cried Dan.

“Hold up your hands!” ordered Mr. Somes. “I’ve got to search you.”

By this time one of the other men in the strange automobile, had gotten
out, and brought a lantern to the side of the maroon car. He flashed the
light into the boy’s face, and at the same moment Dan recognized Hiram
Baird, the cashier of the Farmers’ Bank.

“Mr. Baird!” gasped Dan. “Take him away, will you?”

“Dan Speedwell!” rejoined the cashier, in amazement. “Why, how is this?”

“One of them Speedwell boys!” cried Somes, glaring into Dan’s face, and
dropping the pistol’s point, to Dan’s great relief.

“That’s certainly who it is,” said the cashier of the bank.

“Wa’al! It’s nothing more than I could expect,” said Somes, shaking his
head. “Them boys are always racing around the country on them motor
wheels of theirn—huh! Where’s the other robbers?” and he grabbed Dan by
the collar.

“What do you mean?” demanded the boy, angrily.

“You helped them get away,” declared the constable. “The car was seen
standing before the door of the bank after hours. They shut Mr. Baird
into the strong room and he was almost smothered before the president
came back and found him there.”

This garbled account of a very interesting happening was sufficient for
the moment to explain his position to Dan. He knew now why the trio of
men in the first maroon car had refused to halt when they had wrecked
Maxey Solomons’ automobile.

“You’ve made a mistake, gentlemen,” said Dan, quietly. “I really wish
you would put up that gun, Mr. Somes. You’ll do yourself, or me, an
injury.”

“Yes, do put away the pistol, Josiah,” urged Mr. Baird.

“But this young villain——”

“Nonsense, Josiah!” exclaimed the cashier. “We know Dan is not mixed up
in the robbery.”

“Then how came he by the car? A maroon car. This is it—I’m positive of
it.”

“No it isn’t,” declared Dan.

“But, really, Dan,” said Mr. Baird, puzzled, “I saw the car stop at the
bank door myself, and this one looks just like it.”

“And what happened then?” asked Dan, curiously.

“Two men came in. The third sat where you do—in the driver’s seat. It
was after three, but the door had not been locked. I was alone. One of
the men covered me with a pistol, and the other locked the door. Then
they backed me into the vault and locked it. We had not put away the
money. They got fifteen thousand dollars in bills and specie. They might
have got much more had they known where to look for it. I had to stay in
the vault until Mr. Crawley came in at half-past five.”

“And they sent for _me_,” added the pompous Somes, “and put me on the
case. I remembered, of course, seeing this maroon car standing by the
bank.”

“Not _this_ car,” urged Dan, again.

“Why ain’t it?” snapped the constable.

“Because this car is the property of Mr. Briggs—and you don’t accuse him
of being a bank robber, do you?”

“Mercy!” ejaculated Mr. Baird. “One of our largest depositors!”

“Well!” cried Somes. “How came you with the machine?”

Dan repeated the narrative of his adventures that afternoon and evening.
Mr. Baird, of course, saw how reasonable it was, and believed him. Somes
disliked to say he was mistaken.

“I think I’d better arrest him, and take the machine back to town, Mr.
Baird,” he said.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the cashier. “Get into Mr. Crawley’s machine here,
and let us follow the trail Dan has told us of. Perhaps Mr. Armitage and
Mr. Briggs have caught up with the thieves.”

Dan was much excited by the story of the robbery. To think that the bold
thieves had ridden down the river road out of the town, and within a
short distance of the scene of their first crime, had committed the
desperate act which (so Dan supposed) had brought about Maxey Solomons’
serious injury, or death, and the wrecking of that youth’s automobile!
They were certainly desperate characters. He hoped, with all his heart,
that the gentlemen whom he had left in pursuit, and Deputy Sheriff Polk,
would apprehend them. But he did not believe Josiah Somes would be of
much aid.

Dan came safely to Holliday’s garage and delivered the maroon car, to be
called for by its owner. Then he got upon his Flying Feather and motored
home as quickly as possible, for it was already late and he and Billy
had the milk to pick up at Mr. Speedwell’s dairies.

His younger brother had arrived at home ahead of him; but before he left
town Dan had learned how Maxey Solomons had been saved. Billy, however,
had something on his mind, and he even listened to Dan’s tale of his
“arrest” by Josiah Somes without showing very much interest.

“What’s the matter with you, boy?” demanded Dan, as they finally
finished the chores about the stable and milkhouse and sat down a few
minutes on the granary stairs before going into the house for the night.

“What makes you think there’s anything the matter?” returned Billy,
quickly.

“Come on, boy! ’Fess up,” laughed Dan. “What’s on your mind? If it’s
anything good, don’t keep your brother out of it; and if you’re in a fix
of any kind, maybe I can help you.”

“You’re all right, Dan. But I reckon this is something I’ve got into
myself, and I mean to stand by it,” admitted Billy. “I expect you’ll
think I’m crazy.”

“Don’t know. Can’t say. Open up!” urged his brother.

“Well—I’ve bought an automobile!” blurted out Billy Speedwell.

“You’ve done _what_?”

Billy repeated his statement, gloomily enough. Dan stared at him in the
light of the barn lantern and remarked:

“Well, you don’t look any crazier than common. And I expect you’re
telling me the truth. But I don’t understand it. How did you buy it—from
whom—what with?”

“Hold on!” exclaimed Billy. “Let me tell you all about it.”

“That’s right. It don’t sound very real to me,” said Dan, rubbing his
head. “By the way, where’s the machine?”

“Up in the air,” returned Billy, with a grin.

“Huh! in a garage attached to one of those ‘castles in Spain’ that they
tell about?”

“I bought Maxey’s wrecked machine. I paid five hundred dollars for
it—or, I promised to do so on Monday—and I don’t even know whether I can
get the thing out of the tree where it’s roosting!”

Billy blurted all this out in a hurry. The information left Dan fairly
speechless.




                               CHAPTER VI

                           A FIRST DIFFICULTY


“For goodness sake tell me all about it, Billy,” urged Dan.

His brother did so, relating the particulars of how Maxey Solomons had
been rescued from the automobile and the conversation which had
followed.

“You know how Maxey is. He changes his mind mighty easily. And, Dannie,
I really believe the car is worth a whole lot more than five hundred
dollars.”

“But it’s every cent you’ve got, Billy!”

“I know it. That’s what’s bothering me. It’s going to cost something to
hoist the car out of the tree, and then it’ll cost I don’t know how much
to put it into shape again—as much as fifty dollars, perhaps.”

“Is that all, Billy?” queried his brother, in surprise.

“The car isn’t damaged much. I found and saved everything that dropped
out of it when it was overturned. The thing is wrenched some, I suppose,
and dented and marred. That’s all. And it cost over two thousand
dollars.”

“I know,” said Dan, nodding. “I know all about it. I rode in the car one
day with Maxey, too. It’s a dandy!”

“You bet it is!” cried Billy, eagerly, and evidently much relieved
because his brother took the news as he had. “Suppose we could fix it up
and enter for the gold cup that Mr. Briggs has offered? Wouldn’t that be
great?”

“That’s all right, Billy. I’ll go over and look at the car with you on
Monday. Perhaps we can get it onto the road without much trouble. But
say! I never knew you to be so selfish before, boy.”

“How?” grunted Billy, in surprise.

“Why, you might have given a fellow a chance to buy in with you.”

“Dannie!”

“Going to have it all to yourself, are you?”

“I thought you’d say I was crazy to do it,” explained Billy, eagerly. “I
have been afraid to tell mother and father. Of course, they said we
could do exactly what we pleased with that money the Darringfords gave
us——”

“Don’t worry about it. I believe you’ve made a good investment,”
declared Dan, confidently. “And if you’ll sell me a half interest in the
car, I’ll draw out half my money, and then we’ll divide the cost of
repairing the machine between us.”

“Bully!” shouted Billy, smacking his brother on his sturdy shoulder.
“That will be fine.”

“I’d do the same for you, Billy-boy,” said Dan. “And I’m just as eager
to enter that endurance test as you are.”

“And suppose we could win the cup, old boy!”

Dan chuckled. “We’ll have an old rival in that run—if we have the luck
to get into it.”

“Who’s that?” demanded his brother.

“Chance Avery. Burton Poole has taken him into partnership in his motor
car. You know, Poole’s got a good car. Chance has been rather out of
conceit with the motorcycle business ever since the races at the
baseball park.”

“When you walked away from him, eh?” said Billy.

“But I heard him bragging down to Mr. Appleyard’s store yesterday that
he and Burton were going to have a try for the gold cup—and they
expected to ‘lift’ it.”

“It’s just providential, then,” said Billy, seriously, “that Maxey’s
machine was wrecked, and I got a chance to buy it.”

The Speedwell family numbered but six—besides the parents and Dan and
Billy, there were only Carrie, ten years old, and Adolph, who was just
toddling around and learning to talk. They were, in spite of their
somewhat straitened circumstances, a very happy family. Mr. Speedwell
was not a strong man, but was gaining in health now that he worked out
of doors instead of in a shop. With the help of his two big boys (Dan
was sixteen and Billy a year younger) he was making the small dairy pay.

Although the boys had long ridden bicycles, and still owned their steeds
of steel, the motorcycles on which they had taken their spin along the
river road that day had been presented to them by Mr. Robert
Darringford, and were the best wheels the Darringford Machine Shops
could turn out. Now the fact that Dan and Billy were about to own an
automobile was indeed a matter for discussion and interest around the
evening lamp.

“For a poor man’s sons, I believe you two are doing pretty well,”
remarked quiet Mr. Speedwell. He never went back upon what he said;
having told the boys they could do what they pleased with the thousand
dollars they had earned, he was not likely to criticize Billy’s
impulsive bargain.

That afternoon Dan and Billy hurried home on their machines and went at
once to the woodlot with their axes. They cut and shaped two white-oak
timbers, loaded them into the heavy wagon with such timber chains and
ropes as they chanced to have about the barns, and drove back through
the town and out upon the river road to the spot where the accident had
occurred.

Jim Stetson and Wiley Moyle, both members of the Riverdale Outing Club,
and in their same grade at the local academy, saw the Speedwells driving
through town, and they climbed into the wagon.

“By gravey!” ejaculated Wiley. “I didn’t believe it when they told me.
Do you mean, Billy, that you’ve given up five hundred good dollars to
Maxey Solomons for that smashed-up car?”

“Dan and I have bought it,” admitted Billy, cheerfully.

“You must both be crazy, then,” declared young Moyle. “You’ll never get
it out of those trees without smashing it all to bits. What do you want
a motor car for, anyway? You’ve got motorcycles; and it wasn’t long ago
you were riding bicycles like the rest of us. The club will go to the
dogs if all the members get buzz-carts.”

“Don’t you fret,” returned Dan, laughing. “As long as we can keep
Captain Chance Avery in bounds, you fellows who ride bikes will not be
neglected in club affairs.”

“Remember how Dan fought for you at the meeting following the Barnegat
run,” said Jim. “And he and Billy owned their motors then.”

“But an auto is different,” grumbled Wiley. “Look at Burton Poole—and
the Greenes. They don’t care about going on the club runs at all any
more because the autos have been shut out.”

“Fisher Greene isn’t stuck on the things,” said Billy, laughing.

“No. There’s never any room for Fisher in the car,” said Jim Stetson,
“and he has to stick to his old bike.”

Although Wiley was such a “knocker,” as Jim expressed it, he lent a
sturdy hand to the unloading of the wagon. Dan had brought tools, and
after carefully planning the arrangement of the contrivance he proposed
building, the elder Speedwell began digging a post hole beside the road,
and inside the wall. There was a turf bank here and the work of
excavating was comparatively easy.

While the quartette of boys were thus engaged an automobile came into
view from down the road. It approached swiftly, and Wiley Moyle suddenly
recognized it.

“See who has come!” he scoffed. “Here’s Burton Poole’s buzz-wagon with
Captain Chance at the wheel. Chance is going to win the gold cup, he
says, and he and Poole are in partnership with that old lumber wagon.”

Chanceford Avery, who was considerable older than most of the club
members, was a dark complexioned, sharp featured young man, not much
liked by the boys of Riverdale, but who made himself agreeable to most
of the girl members of the Outing Club.

Some months before he had shown his enmity to the Speedwells, and he
never let an opportunity escape for being unpleasant to the brothers.
When he saw what the boys were about beside the road, he brought the
automobile to an abrupt halt.

“Haven’t you got a cheek to dig that bank up in that manner, Speedwell?”
he said. “You’ll get into trouble.”

“Guess not,” returned Dan, cheerfully. “It never entered my head we’d
have to get a permit to set a post down here, as long as we are going to
take the post right up again and fill in the hole. I’ve saved the sod
whole, too.”

“At any rate, there’s one thing sure,” snapped Billy, who didn’t like
young Avery at all, any more than he did Francis Avery, Chanceford’s
brother, and the superintendent of the Darringford shops; “we haven’t
got to come to _you_ for a permit.”

“Aw, stop your rowing, you fellows,” advised Burton Poole, who was a
good-natured, easy-going chap. “What are you going to do, Dan?”

Dan explained briefly, still keeping on with his work.

“You’ll have a fat time trying to get that old hulk of a car up here,”
sneered Chance Avery. “And after you get it up, what good is it?”

“That we’ll see about later,” returned the older Speedwell, rather
gruffly.

“Max Solomons made a fool of you,” declared Chance. “He is blowing
around town how he got the best of you fellows. Why, the car wasn’t good
for much when it got pitched over the bank.”

“You’d laugh the other side of your mouth if this old car ever beat you
and Poole, wouldn’t you now?” demanded Billy.

“I suppose you fellows intend entering with it in the thousand mile
endurance run?” laughed Chance.

“Bet your life we are!” cried Billy, before his brother could stop him.

“Listen to that, will you, you fellows?” said Chance. “These Speedwells
are the limit!”

“We’ve been able to beat you before now, Chanceford Avery,” snapped
Billy. “Now go along! Nobody wants you here.”

Chance might have stopped longer to argue the point, but Burton, who was
all for peace, urged him on. Their car, which was really a very good
one, hummed away toward town. Inside of twenty minutes a carriage
rattled down to the place where the boys were at work.

“Hey, you, Dan Speedwell!” exclaimed an unpleasant voice, and Dan looked
up from settling the big timber in the ground to see Josiah Somes, the
Riverdale constable.

“How d’ye do, Mr. Somes,” returned the youth. “Haven’t caught those
robbers in the maroon car yet, have you?”

The other boys laughed. Josiah’s ability as a detective was a joke about
town.

“Well, them other fellers haven’t caught the scoundrels, either,”
snarled Somes. “I guess there ain’t no medals on Polk, if he _is_ a
deputy!”

“Wish you luck,” said Dan, good naturedly.

“Never you mind about them bank robbers. I ain’t here looking for them,”
said the constable. “I want _you_.”

“What!” cried Dan. “Are you going to arrest me again, Mr. Somes?”

“I want to know who gave you permission to dig that hole, and clutter up
this place with them contraptions.”

Dan and Billy looked meaningly at each other. Both boys knew at once
that Chance Avery had set Josiah Somes after them—and the constable was
only too willing to do them an ill turn.

“Come on!” the man snarled. “Hop into my buggy, Dan Speedwell. I’m going
to take you before the ’Squire and see what he’s got to say about this.”




                              CHAPTER VII

                          THE HAND IN THE DARK


The three other boys were not a little alarmed by the constable’s word
and manner; but Dan did not show any fear.

“Just pack the earth and stones well around the post, Billy,” he said to
his brother, cheerfully, “while I go back to town with Mr. Somes, and
get this matter straightened out.”

Dan knew a little something himself about the town ordinances; he was
aware that a permit was necessary for the opening of an excavation in a
public road. But it was a rule often ignored in such small matters as
this. Chance Avery had set the officious constable at this work, and
Somes was just mean enough to delight in making the Speedwells trouble.

And on the way to the house of ’Squire English they would pass the
office of the council clerk. Dan knew this gentlemen very well, and as
Somes pulled up his horse to speak to a friend, the boy hopped out upon
the sidewalk.

“Hey! where you going?” demanded the constable.

“I’ll be right back,” said Dan, dodging into the building and leaving
the constable fussing in the carriage.

The boy found Mr. Parker at his desk and explained quickly what he and
Billy were doing down there beside the river road.

“Digging a hole to set a post? Well, go ahead! I reckon nobody will
object,” said the clerk. “You’ll fill it in all right, Dan?”

“But somebody _has_ objected,” explained the boy. And he told Mr. Parker
of the difficulty.

“Pshaw! Josiah ought to be in better business,” declared the clerk, and
he hastily filled out a permit, headed “Highway Department” and gave it
to the youth. “Show that to Justice English,” he advised.

He nodded and smiled and Dan knew that the gentleman appreciated the
joke on the constable. The latter was sputtering loudly when Dan
returned to the sidewalk. He had got out of the carriage and hitched his
horse.

“Here! you come along with me, Dan Speedwell!” cried the constable.
“You’re trying to run away.”

Dan saw Chance Avery grinning widely on the other side of the square. It
was plain that the captain of the Riverdale Club congratulated himself
that he had got the Speedwells into trouble.

They went into ’Squire English’s office. The old gentleman was a
crotchety man, stern and brusk of speech, and a terror to the evil-doers
who came before him. He did not like boys, having forgotten that he was
ever one himself.

“What now? What now, Josiah?” he snapped, looking up from his papers,
and glaring under bristling brows at Dan Speedwell.

“This here boy—and some others that I didn’t bring in—are digging holes
in the turf along the river road, just beyond Mr. Abram Sudds’ place.
You know that piece of turf there, ’Squire, that the town spent so much
to grade and make handsome. Well this here Dan Speedwell was digging a
hole in it.”

“You’re old enough to know better than to do that, young man,” said the
’Squire, to Dan. “What did you do it for?”

Dan silently tendered the paper Mr. Parker had given him. The justice
put on his glasses, looked at it, and turned on the constable
wrathfully.

“What do you mean by bringing him here, when he’s got a permit to set
his post? Think I’ve got nothing more to do, Josiah, than to monkey with
foolish cases?”

“Why—why—he never told me he had a permit!” cried the chagrined
constable.

“You never gave me a chance to tell you,” declared Dan.

“Get out of here—the whole of you!” snarled Justice English, as the
crowd that had followed Dan and Somes in began to giggle and whisper,
just as delighted over the constable’s taking down as they would have
been had Dan been punished.

The boys, on Dan’s return from the ’Squire’s office, rigged a clumsy,
but efficient, swing-arm for the derrick before they were obliged to go
home. But it grew too dark for anything more to be done that night. So
they piled into the wagon and started for the other side of town.

As they halted at a certain corner to let Jim and Wiley get out of the
wagon, a party of girls came along and hailed them.

“Oh, boys!” cried Lettie Parker, who was a jolly girl with more than a
suspicion of red in her hair, and the quick temper which is supposed to
go with it. “Oh, boys! you are just whom we wished to see. I don’t
believe any of you have heard about the candy-pulling out at Stella
Mayberry’s.”

“Stel Mayberry’s?” cried Jim. “I knew she was going to have one; but I
didn’t hear when.”

“It’s to-night. She wasn’t at school to-day, so the word didn’t get
around. I got a note from her, and so did Mildred,” Lettie said. “And
we’ve been around inviting folks.”

“Never heard a thing about it,” declared Billy.

“But she means for you boys to come,” Mildred Kent, the doctor’s
daughter, said, more quietly. She spoke to Dan. “I hope you can come.
We’ll go over on our wheels as soon after supper as we can.”

“We’ll be late getting there, Mildred,” said Dan Speedwell.

“But we can all come back together. You know where she lives?”

“Oh, yes. Down the river road.”

“We’ll hurry along,” said Billy, “so as to get over to Mayberry’s as
early as possible.”

The Speedwells drove away. They went around to several other farmers to
pick up the evening’s milk before going home. Then, when their chores
were all done and they had supper, Dan and Billy mounted their
motorcycles and dashed away through the town and out the river road
toward the farmhouse which was the scene of the evening party.

While within the immediate confines of Riverdale they had to run
moderately; but it was already after half-past eight, they wanted to
reach Mayberry’s before the fun was all over, and therefore “let out”
the motors when they got upon the river road.

The white highway before them was deserted clear down to the bend at
which Dan Speedwell had first seen the maroon car of the bank robbers on
Saturday afternoon. That trio of criminals had gotten away: all pursuit
had been futile.

But as the two boys shot around the bend they sighted an automobile
chugging slowly toward them. It was not far beyond where the shadowy
outline of their rudely constructed derrick was visible.

An automobile on this road was no uncommon sight; but the attention of
Dan and Billy was called particularly to it because it showed no lights!

The boys flashed past the slowly moving machine at racing pace; yet
Billy gained some particular knowledge of the car and its single
occupant.

“Hey, Dannie!” he shouted. “Did you see him?”

“The fellow at the wheel?”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t help seeing him; but I’m not sure who it was. The car I
know,” responded Dan.

“Poole’s?” asked Billy, eagerly.

“That’s what it was—Burton Poole’s car,” said the older brother.

“Then I’m sure I made no mistake. My eyes didn’t fool me. That’s Chance
Avery in the car alone, running without a light. It would be a good joke
to report _him_ for breaking a town ordinance and have him up before
Judge English,” cried Billy.

The candy-pull broke up at an early hour, for all hands had to face
lessons on the morrow. The girls had come out on motorcycles, too, and
they were a gay party that started for Riverdale after bidding the
Mayberrys, and those guests who lived near the farm, good-night.

Dan and Mildred Kent got off a little in advance of the rest of the
riders, and led the company by several hundred yards. They were very
good friends, Dan having dragged Mildred to school on his sled when they
were both in the primary grade, and the fact that Doctor Kent was
wealthy and the Speedwells were comparatively poor never made the least
difference in their friendship.

“I heard the boys saying something about you and Billy buying an auto,
Dan,” said Mildred Kent. “Is it a joke?”

“We can’t tell about that yet, Milly,” responded Dan, chuckling. “Just
at present it _looks_ like a joke, for, as Billy says, the machine is up
in the air.”

“Do tell me what you have done,” urged Mildred.

“Wait until we get along the river road a bit and I’ll show you the
car.”

“You don’t mean it’s Maxey Solomons’?”

“It _was_ his,” admitted Dan, cheerfully. “And if we can get it out of
the tree where it lodged last Saturday, we’ll show some of the folks
around here that it is a real flying machine, although we hope to keep
it out of the air for the future.”

They were wheeling along the road at a fast clip, but easily. Just as
Dan spoke there sounded ahead an echoing crash—the fall of some object
which made quite a startling noise on this quiet evening.

“What can that be?” demanded Mildred.

“I declare I don’t know,” said Dan, and quite involuntarily increased
his speed.

There followed the sudden noise of a rapidly driven automobile—a car
that was just starting ahead of them. In half a minute Dan knew that the
car was hurrying toward Riverdale. Before he and Mildred had traveled
three hundred yards the motor car was almost out of their hearing.

“What do you suppose has happened?” cried the girl.

Dan did not reply. It was a moonless night, but the heavens were
brilliant with stars and their light made pretty plain objects along the
road.

Their swift motorcycles had brought Dan and Mildred almost to the spot
where the Speedwells had set their derrick in the afternoon. The
contrivance had disappeared!

“Stop!” shouted Dan, and shut off his power and leaped from his saddle.
He ran to the side of the road. There was the stump of the post he and
Billy had set. It had not broken off, but had been chopped down with an
axe!

And the whole apparatus had been allowed to fall over the precipice. In
the darkness below the wall Dan could not see whether or not the falling
derrick had crashed upon the automobile in the tree-top.




                              CHAPTER VIII

                                ON WATCH


“Oh, Dan! what is it?” cried Mildred, dismounting from her own
motorcycle, and running to the gap in the wall through which the lad was
leaning, seeking to peer into the gulf. “What has happened?”

“Somebody has knocked down our derrick. I hope the auto has escaped,”
muttered Dan.

He ran back to his machine, lifted off the storage battery lamp, and
came with it to the verge of the precipice again. Its bright ray flashed
into the depths revealed one thing at least—the auto was still wedged in
the tree limbs. The heavy timbers had missed it in their fall.

“Oh, Dan! the car is there,” cried Mildred, “And can you ever get it up
to the roadway—do you believe you can?”

“We won’t be able to get it up here if many such tricks as _this_ are
played on us,” grunted Dan. “Ah! here’s Billy.”

The remainder of the party came up swiftly and stopped their cycles.

“What’s happened?” cried Billy, first to reach his brother’s side.

Dan pointed to the post, chopped off at the ground. All could see it.

“The car—is it hurt?” questioned Billy.

“I don’t think so,” replied his brother.

“The rascal! I’d like to pitch him over that wall myself,” declared the
younger Speedwell, in a passion.

“Who is it? Who did it, Billy? Do you know?” were the questions fired at
the impulsive lad.

Dan touched his brother’s arm, and Billy accepted the warning.

“I won’t say anything more—now,” Billy said, mysteriously. “But you can
see what a mean trick it is—just as we got the derrick in place, too.”

“I believe you!” cried Jim Stetson. “I skinned a knuckle and pretty near
broke my back helping you. I’d give something to get hold of the fellow
who did it, myself.”

“Couldn’t be old Somes, could it?” asked Wiley Moyle. “He was almost mad
enough to bite you fellows, to-night.”

“Nonsense! Josiah wouldn’t do such a thing. He has too much respect for
the law,” said Monroe Stevens.

“I think it is very fortunate,” put in Mildred Kent, earnestly, “that
the person—whoever he was—did not manage to utterly ruin the automobile.
Suppose he comes here before you can get the derrick erected again, and
throws these boulders down upon the car?”

“He’ll not do that!” declared Dan, firmly.

“How do you know?”

“Because either Billy or I will be on this spot until we get the car out
of the place. We have too much money invested in the machine to have it
wrecked.”

“Right, Dannie!” declared his brother. “And I’ll stay here now. You go
on home, ask father to help you with the milk in the morning, and then
come down with the team and another post as early as you can. If there’s
any way of getting the car up, we’ll get at it without further delay.”

It was so arranged, and Billy sat down beside the break in the wall
while the others motored away. His own machine he carefully hid in a
clump of bushes, and proposed to keep awake until morning so that the
mean-spirited person whom he suspected of cutting down the pole, should
not return and do any damage to the motor car.

Billy heard dogs barking in the distance—they seemed to start far down
the road toward the Mayberry farm at which he and his young friends had
spent such a pleasant evening. First one dog, and then another, joined
the chorus, the sound of which drew nearer.

“Somebody coming along the road,” thought the lad. “They’re coming fast
and stirring up a racket as they come. Somebody is traveling fast, for
the houses are a good way apart, and the dogs join each other in hailing
the passer-by in one, two, three order.”

“Ha! an auto, I bet,” pursued Billy. “Coming at a stiff pace. There’s
the hum of her! No other sound. Gee! she’s spinning the miles behind
her. Hear her purr!”

Billy rose to his knees and peered down the road. He was still in the
shadow and could not be seen. There was a flash of light at the far
bend—but it was no lamp. Billy knew a car had turned the corner, but it
had not a single headlight lit.

Then, to his amazement, he saw that there were figures in the car—one at
the wheel, the other in the tonneau. And it was a somewhat larger car
than Billy had expected.

A car without a light had no business on the road in the first place;
that fact was suspicious. And when the car halted directly before the
crouching boy, Billy was indeed amazed.

“Is this the spot?” asked the man on the front seat, turning to speak
over his shoulder.

“I—don’t—know,” returned the other, in a low voice. “It looks so
different by night.”

“Hang it! you and I were past here on Saturday.”

“Well! we went so fast that I couldn’t tell what the place looked like.
I know that Sudds lives here somewhere. Ha!”

“What’s the matter?” asked the man at the wheel, whom Billy noticed was
rather small.

“I believe this is the spot where that auto went over the bank; eh?”

The chauffeur stood up, evidently trying to peer into the darkness
beside the road. Billy’s heart beat loudly. He was so near that he could
have almost reached out his hand and touched the rear wheel of the car.

There was something about this automobile that awoke in Billy Speedwell
a feeling of suspicion. It was too dark for him to see the color of the
automobile exactly; but he was apprehensive.

“Sudds’ place is farther along,” exclaimed the chauffeur, sitting down.
“_He_ ought to be on the lookout somewhere. We’ll run on slow, and then
back again if we don’t pick him up.”

“All right,” growled the second man.

They were both looking forward and away from Billy. The boy, shaking
with nervousness, but willing to risk much to prove to himself that his
suspicion was right, crept out of the shadow behind the car. The machine
started and Billy leaped lightly up behind, and clung to the back of the
large, folded canopy top of the tonneau.

The car rolled on smoothly—almost silently; her engine throbbed
steadily. They turned the bend and Billy knew that the dwelling of Abram
Sudds, a granite mansion set high on the bank beside the road, was in
sight, although he could not see it.

The car purred on. Billy clung desperately, afraid to drop off now, for
he would be revealed the instant he came out of the shadow of the
automobile’s folded-back top. Impulsively he had jumped into trouble,
and without a thought for the wrecked auto he was watching, and in which
his brother and himself had invested five hundred dollars!

But the mystery of this car, and the men in it, had taken hold of him
strongly. As they ran slowly past the Sudds property Billy glanced about
for the man whom the two in the car evidently expected.

There was no one in the road. They ran on to the next house and there
the chauffeur turned slowly. There was a street light here and its dim
radiance shone for an instant on the side panels of the car as it
turned. Billy, craning his neck around the corner of the car to look,
saw the light flash upon the shiny varnish.

The car was painted maroon! There had been _two_ maroon cars in the
neighborhood of Riverdale within the past few days. Billy was very sure
indeed that this car did not belong to Mr. Briggs!




                               CHAPTER IX

                          THIEVES IN THE NIGHT


The maroon car turned slowly and ran back along the road. At the
wrought-iron, ornate gate before the Sudds’ front steps it halted
suddenly. Billy shot another glance around the car.

A man had stepped out of the shadow of the gate post. The two in the car
evidently recognized their comrade.

“Come on!” the new-comer said, commandingly. “You run on around the
corner, George, and wait for us. Keep your power on. We may be ten
minutes—we may be half an hour; but you wait.”

“All right,” assented the man at the wheel, and the car moved on slowly
while Billy saw the speaker, and the man who had ridden in the back of
the car, walk in at the gate and mount the steps.

The Sudds mansion was high above the street, and the door was gained by
mounting several terraces. The couple of strangers were up three sets of
granite steps when the maroon car slipped around the bend and Billy lost
sight again of the house.

Now, Billy Speedwell had not the first idea what he should do. He
believed these three men were criminals. He was sure this was the maroon
car Dan had chased on his motorcycle on Saturday—the car that had thrown
Maxey Solomons and his auto over the embankment. And the men in it had
robbed the Farmers’ Bank of Riverdale of fifteen thousand dollars!

They had dared come back into the neighborhood. Not only had they come
back, but Billy believed they were here for quite as bad a purpose as
that which had made them notorious in the neighborhood two days before.

An honest car does not usually run without lights. The river road
chanced to be deserted at this late hour (it was now approaching
midnight) and standing where the chauffeur stopped it, this maroon auto
could scarce be seen until one was right upon it.

But Billy dared not climb down behind. The throb of the slowly running
engine shook the car and made noise enough to drown any slight sound he
might create. But the chauffeur, George, was standing up and looking all
about him. He would spy a rat running across the road, let alone a boy.

But, if the other two came down to the automobile, would not they see
Billy clinging behind the car? The thought gave young Speedwell courage
to make a change of base, and make it quickly.

He lifted himself up carefully, sliding his legs into the bag of the
collapsed tonneau top. There he lay stretched out, perfectly invisible
in the half darkness, but able to see all that went on behind the car,
at least.

What he intended to do, Billy had not thought. His jumping on the
machine was one of those impulsive, thoughtless acts for which he was
noted. He very well knew now that Dan would not have done this without
having seen his way clear to escape!

He heard the chauffeur moving about for a few moments. He undoubtedly
looked over his machine; but this scrutiny did not bring him near the
hiding Billy. Then George got into the car and sat ready to speed up the
moment his comrades joined him.

It seemed to the lad in the back of the car that much more than half an
hour had passed. He grew very weary with waiting.

Then suddenly, shattering the silence of the night, came a sound that
startled Billy like a pistol shot. A heavy window went up with a bang.

Billy heard the chauffeur utter a sudden exclamation. Then a voice in
the distance began to shout; but it was so far away that Billy could not
distinguish the words uttered.

It was an alarm, however. He heard a policeman’s rattle, as the
householder who had opened the window swung the loud-sounding
contrivance with a vigorous arm. A woman shrieked, too; then followed
the quick bark of a pistol—a sound that dwarfed the other noises.

Footsteps pounded on the road behind the car, and the two men for whom
it was waiting appeared. One carried a bundle; the other held onto his
arm and seemed to be in pain as he stumbled on.

“He winged me! he winged me!” cried the wounded man.

“Get in and stop your howling!” commanded the other, who seemed to be
the leader.

He pushed his comrade into the tonneau, leaped in himself with the
bundle, and said to the chauffeur:

“Go to it, George! This is getting to be too hot a neighborhood for us
to linger in!”

As he spoke the car leaped ahead. Billy gasped, and then lay still.
Wherever the criminals were aiming to go, it seemed that the boy was
forced to accompany them!

The maroon car sped along the straight stretch of two miles to the next
bend in the road. Billy, looking out behind, saw no pursuit. Around the
curve the car whipped, and they were safe! Or, so it seemed, for there
was no pursuit. Probably there was no suspicion that the thieves had
gotten away in an automobile, for the purring of the car was scarcely
audible, she ran so easily.

The boy could hear nothing that was said by the trio. Sometimes the
sound of voices drifted back to him; but he could distinguish no words.
The machine kept up a swift pace and ran boldly down to Upton Falls.
Billy knew the locality well; but until the car stopped he could do
nothing toward either his own escape, or raising an alarm.

Remembering how Dan had chased this car before on Saturday, and the fact
that the men had cut across country toward the coast villages, Billy was
surprised that they did not follow the same route again; but he soon
discovered that the thieves were afraid of the machine running out of
gas.

As they spun quietly down into the square, Billy peered ahead again, and
saw the flaring electric sign in front of Rebo’s garage. Although they
had not passed another car on the road, Upton Falls was one of the roads
to Barnegat, and there was a good deal of night travel. Mr. Rebo
advertised to cater to the trade twenty-four hours in the day, and Billy
knew there would be at least one man on duty here.

The trio of robbers knew this, too, it was evident. One of them hopped
out of the car the moment it stopped and rapped on the office window. A
sleepy voice replied, and the door was quickly opened.

By this time the two men in the back of the automobile, as well as the
chauffeur, were coated and masked. The dust masks and great goggles
completely hid their features.

Billy had hoped that there would be more than one man at the garage, or
that somebody would stroll along whose attention he might call. He
feared to leap out of concealment and reveal himself to the trio of
thieves.

He knew that one of the Upton Falls constables was supposed to patrol
the streets of the town at night; but he did not show up at this
juncture. The man on duty at the garage went about his work sleepily
enough. It was plain by the muttered conversation Billy overheard from
the gang, that they were impatient, but dared not show how hurried they
were.

“We’d never ought to have had to run down here,” growled the leader, who
was a big, aggressive man, and seemed to have the other two under his
thumb.

“I tell you we burned a lot of gas running up and down, waiting for
you,” was the chauffeur’s reply.

“Well! It’s the back track for ours, anyway. If they look for a car at
all, it won’t be running _toward_ Sudds’ house.”

“You’ll not take the river road!” exclaimed the third man, earnestly.

“The pike,” growled the other.

The man came out with the gasoline can, and there was no more
discussion. But Billy had heard something of importance. He dared not
show himself, for the glare of the garage lights would betray to the
robbers just where he had been hiding.

Nevertheless, he made up his mind to make some good use of the
information he had gleaned. He swiftly drew a letter from his pocket,
tore a blank page from it, and with a bit of lead-pencil scribbled a
line on the paper. The chauffeur was already cranking up the maroon car.
The machine quickly began to throb.

Billy waited until the car had started. He saw that the chauffeur was
making a turn in the square, preparatory to taking the back track as he
had been instructed.

The garage man stood gaping on the walk, and staring after the maroon
car. Billy thrust out his hand and waved the paper in the air. The man’s
jaws came together with a snap. The boy was almost certain that he had
observed the waving paper.

Therefore Billy let it float back into the road. He even had the
satisfaction of seeing the man step into the roadway to pick it up
before the motor car struck a very swift pace. The next moment the
shadow of the trees and houses shut out Billy Speedwell’s view of the
spot.




                               CHAPTER X

                      JOSIAH SOMES ON THE WARPATH


Dan Speedwell had gone back to Riverdale with his young friends in a
much disturbed state of mind. That anybody should be mean enough to have
tried to utterly ruin the racing car which he and Billy had bought of
Maxey Solomons, not only angered Dan, but hurt him. Like his brother he
suspected who the person was who had chopped down the derrick, and sent
it crashing over the edge of the cliff to the bank of the river.

It was eleven o’clock when he reached home. He and Billy were usually
astir before three each morning, and with the younger boy absent Dan
would have all the milking and other chores to do by himself. He did not
propose to arouse his father until about time to start with the milk
wagons for Riverdale.

He put away his motorcycle, took his axe and a lantern, and started for
the small woodlot that was a part of the Speedwell farm. That day, when
cutting the two timbers that had now fallen over the cliff beside the
river road, Dan had marked several other oak trees of practical use in
this emergency.

“We’ll not go to school in the morning,” decided the older brother; “but
we’ll rig another derrick and get that car out upon the road before more
harm is done.”

Dan went along the county road to the bars and climbed over them into
the few acres of timber Mr. Speedwell owned. He had been hunting ’coons
and ’possums on many a night and was not afraid to fell a tree by
lamp-light. He cut away some of the brush, chose the direction in which
he wished the tree to fall, and set to work with the axe.

The reverberating blows rang through the wood, and the chips flew. Dan
was not alone a sturdy youth; he was a good woodsman. In five minutes
the tree fell with a crash that could have been heard afar. And as the
echo of it died away our hero was aware of a swiftly approaching sound
along the highroad. It was the throbbing of an automobile, and now a
horn sounded:

“Honk! honk! honk!”

“Joy-riders,” muttered Dan, preparing to trim the tree. “Hello! they’re
slowing down.”

The throbbing of the car ceased. The boy was near the edge of the wood
and heard voices in a moment. Some of the occupants were getting out of
the car.

“Hello in there!” shouted a voice. “What luck have you had, brother?”

“They think I’m hunting,” exclaimed Dan. “And I declare! I believe that
is Mr. Armitage. It sounds just like his voice.”

Dan Speedwell picked up his lantern and walked toward the road. For a
second time the jolly voice hailed him:

“Hello! Who’s there? Where’s the dogs?”

“I haven’t any dogs, and I’m not hunting,” explained Dan, coming out to
the bars.

“Hullo!” rejoined the same voice. “Isn’t that young Speedwell?”

“I thought I recognized your voice, Mr. Armitage,” said Dan.

“And Mr. Briggs is here. This is the car you took a ride in Saturday
night, young man,” and the gentleman laughed. “How are you? I hear
Josiah Somes tried to mix you and Mr. Briggs’ car up with the robbery of
the Farmers’ Bank.”

“He did indeed,” admitted Dan.

“I’m glad to see you again, boy,” said Mr. Briggs, likewise leaning out
of the tonneau. “Some of our boys and hired men started out an hour ago
after ’coons. Have you heard or seen anything of them?”

“No, sir. I reckon they went over toward the swamp. We only own a small
piece of these woods, and the ’coons and ’possums have been driven all
away to the swamp side.”

“There!” exclaimed Mr. Armitage, “I told you I was sure we were taking
the wrong road, Briggs.”

“And we’ve got to go clear around by Meadville to find a road fit to
drive this machine over!” exclaimed his friend.

“No, sir,” said Dan, quickly. “You can go into town and turn at
Peckham’s Corner. There’s a good road going into the swamp which
branches from the Port Luther turnpike.”

“I know it!” cried Mr. Armitage. “I remember now.”

“Sure you can find it, Tom?”

“We—ell——”

“Do you know the way, Henri?” asked Mr. Briggs, of the Frenchman at the
wheel.

“No, Monsieur,” replied Henri, quickly. “I am not what you call familiar
with the ways.”

Dan could not help offering. Besides, his whole body tingled for another
ride in the swift, easy-running car. And Henri might let him run the
machine again!

“I can go with you, Mr. Armitage,” he said, quickly. “We can run around
to the swamp in half an hour—at night. You won’t mind traveling fast.
And the road back here passes within half a mile of our house, although
there is no cross-road—not even a wood-team path. I can walk from the
turnpike to our house in less than ten minutes.”

“Say, that’s kind of you, Speedwell,” said Mr. Briggs. “But it’s late.
Your folks will expect you home.”

“They’re abed. I wasn’t really expecting to go to sleep to-night,” said
Dan, laughing. “You see, we have to milk early, and Billy is away. I
have his share of the work to do, too.”

“I am afraid we are imposing on you,” said Mr. Armitage.

“No, sir.”

“Perhaps the boy is itching to get in Henri’s place again,” laughed the
owner of the maroon car.

“Yes, sir; that’s it,” admitted Dan, with a broad smile.

“Jump aboard, then,” said Mr. Briggs. “If Henri wants you to show him
how to properly handle a six-cylinder Postlethwaite, why you may do so.”

The Frenchman’s little, waxed mustache shot up toward his eyebrows in a
smile, and he slid over and allowed Dan to take the steering wheel of
the motor car. The boy laid his axe on the footboard and turned down his
lantern and put that in a secure place, too. Then, with a hand on the
gear lever and another on the wheel, and his foot on the clutch pedal,
he brought the beautiful car into motion as easily as Henri himself
could have turned the trick.

“You are going to make one fine chauffeur,” whispered Henri, in Dan’s
ear. “That was magnificent!”

There was nobody else on the road. They came down into Riverdale as
swiftly—and almost as silently—as a cloud shadow chasing across a
wheat-field. The town street lights were quickly in view. They came
within sight of Peckham’s Corner, just above the Court House.

And there—right in the roadway—suddenly flashed a lantern. It gyrated
curiously, as though the bearer of the lamp was dancing from side to
side. And those in the car heard a raucous voice shouting.

“What’s the matter here?” demanded Mr. Briggs, as Dan began to reduce
speed.

“Look out, Speedwell!” warned Mr. Armitage. “There’s a rope stretched
across the road.”

“It’s right at Josiah Somes’ house,” exclaimed Dan.

“Is that fellow going to hold us up?” demanded Briggs.

“Josiah must be on the war-path,” chuckled Mr. Armitage. “He’s out
holding up automobilists so as to fill the coffers of the local ’Squire
and his own pockets.”

Dan was obliged to shut off power and brake hard. The heavy car barely
stopped in season.

“Surrender!” yelled the voice of Mr. Somes. He bore the lantern in one
hand, and a revolver of the largest size in the other, and he waved both
of these indiscriminately.

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Mr. Briggs, wrathfully.

The constable evidently did not recognize the gentleman. He continued to
paw the air and make threatening gestures with his weapon, as he
shouted:

“Hold up your hands! Pile out of that car! I swear I got ye now, ye
robbers, you! Move lively!”

“Say! who do you think you are speaking to?” demanded Mr. Armitage.

“You can’t fool me,” declared the constable wildly. “They jest
telephoned me to stop ye. Ye robbed Colonel Sudds of jewelry and money
this very night. But I know ye done more than that. You are the fellers
that robbed the Farmers’ Bank on Saturday, and I’m goin’ t’ march ye t’
jail for it!”




                               CHAPTER XI

                             ON A HOT TRAIL


The first thought Dan Speedwell had was for Billy. Mr. Sudds’ residence
was the nearest house to the spot where Maxey’s automobile had been
overthrown, and where he had left Billy to watch over the wrecked auto
for the night.

If Colonel Sudds had been robbed within a short time, did Billy know
anything about it, and had he got into any trouble? Dan knew his
impulsive brother so well, that he feared at once for his safety.

But Mr. Thomas Armitage, and Mr. Briggs burst into a shout of laughter.

“Oh, Josiah! you’re the only man who could possibly make the same
mistake twice, hand-running. When _will_ you ever wake up?” demanded Mr.
Armitage, when he could speak for laughter.

The constable’s face lengthened enormously and he put away the big
pistol with much haste and chagrin.

“I—I don’t s’pose you know anything about the robbery of Mr. Sudds,
gents,” he muttered. “But see here! ’Twarn’t half an hour ago they
telephoned to me from Sudds’ house that they’d been robbed; then come
another message saying to stop a maroon car; that the men in it had
robbed Mr. Sudds, and was also suspected of being the bank robbers. I
remembered that them robbers had a car like this——”

“And _that_ fact ought to earn them a term in jail alone,” growled Mr.
Briggs. “I have a good mind to send my car back to the factory and have
it repainted.”

“Tell me!” interrupted Dan Speedwell, eagerly, “who telephoned you, Mr.
Somes?”

“Man at Rebo’s Garage,” said the constable, shortly.

“Rebo’s! That’s at the Falls,” observed Mr. Armitage.

“Sure enough!” agreed Mr. Briggs. “What did they say about it?”

“Why—I was some flustered,” admitted Somes, doggedly. “Ye see, I was
sound asleep when I heard from the Sudds’ of the robbery there.”

“When did this happen?” asked Dan, quickly.

“Not half an hour ago, I tell ye!” snapped the constable. “Ha! you’re
Dan Speedwell, ain’t ye?”

“Yes.”

“Well, your brother’s mixed up in this thing, now I tell ye!”

“Oh, how?” cried Dan. “What do you mean?”

“Surely not in the robbery of Mr. Sudds’ house?” said Mr. Armitage.

“Wa’al, it’s mighty funny,” snapped Josiah. “As I tell ye, they
telephoned me that two men had entered through a lower window, opened
the library safe, and took jewelry and money—ten thousand dollars’ wuth.
One of the men had been in the house early in the evening—so they
thought. He was a stranger, and made out he had some business with the
colonel.”

Mr. Sudds was a “colonel” by courtesy, having at one time served on the
Governor’s staff.

“So I scrabbled on me clothes, meanin’ to start right down there to see
about the robbers. My telephone rung agin, jest as I got to the door,
and Mrs. Somes called me back. It was the man at Rebo’s.”

“In Upton Falls? Yes?” said Dan, eagerly.

“He says a maroon automobile had just stopped there for gasoline——”

“Yes?” urged Dan.

“And he says,” pursued the constable, “that when the car started away,
somebody dropped a piece of paper out of it. He says he believed
somebody was hangin’ onto the back of the car, and throwed the paper so
he’d see it. He ran and picked it up, read it, and then telephoned me.
Of course, he knew I’d ’tend to it,” said Josiah, pompously.

“Yes, yes!” agreed Dan. “What did the paper say?”

“Why, as near as I can remember, it said: ‘Telephone authorities at
Riverdale to stop maroon car, headed that way. Men in her have robbed
Mr. Sudds and I think they are the ones who robbed Farmers’ Bank.’ And
your brother’s name was signed to it. Now, Dan Speedwell, either it’s a
hoax, or your brother is mixed up in these robberies,” declared the
constable, with a tone of satisfaction that made Dan angry.

“Well, well, Josiah!” said Mr. Armitage. “You’d better let us by. If you
are going to try to catch the real robbers’ automobile, you’ll want some
help, won’t you?”

“Wait!” cried Dan, again, as the constable dropped the rope. “Tell me
one thing.”

“Wal, what is it?” returned Josiah, grudgingly.

“How long ago did the man at Rebo’s ’phone you?”

“Jest now.”

“What does _that_ mean?” cried Dan. “Ten minutes ago, or more?”

“I jest got word, and ran out of the house, heard you comin’ and stopped
ye.”

“Ten minutes it would be, then, Speedwell,” said Mr. Armitage. “What’s
on your mind?”

“And did the man say the other car had just left the garage?”

“Yes he did,” drawled Josiah.

“I see!” cried Mr. Armitage. “If the maroon car is coming this way it
has not yet reached Riverdale.”

“But it must be near,” urged Dan, anxiously. “Oh! I believe my brother
is really with the robbers—perhaps as a prisoner. Can’t we head them
off?”

“Does it seem reasonable that they would come back this way, having
robbed Mr. Sudds within the hour?” queried Mr. Briggs.

“It would be a shrewd move,” said his friend.

“It’s a hot trail, I believe,” cried Dan.

“Run through the town, and onto the pike,” advised Mr. Armitage,
“Perhaps we may meet with them.”

Dan shot the car ahead without further word. Everything else was
forgotten by the lad but his anxiety to learn the truth about his
brother’s connection with the other maroon automobile. Dan was deeply
worried.




                              CHAPTER XII

                              A GREAT RUN


Instead of turning at Peckham’s Corner, as they had intended had the
party kept on after the ’coon hunters, the swift automobile ran on into
Riverdale. They passed the Court House and shot through the public
square. The town was asleep and nobody challenged them.

A little beyond this was the brick structure in which county prisoners
were kept, and the sheriff lived in a wing of the prison. Mr. Armitage
touched Dan’s shoulder lightly and the boy slowed down.

“We’d better speak to Midge,” said the gentleman. “We can’t wait for
him, but he had better know what’s afoot. If there’s a deputy here——”

“Why didn’t Mr. Sudds telephone _here_, instead of to Constable Somes?”
queried Mr. Briggs, as his friend got out of the automobile.

“It was Mrs. Sudds who telephoned. To the women-folk, Josiah is bigger
than the president. That tin star he wears is what gets them.”

Mr. Armitage went up the steps of the sheriff’s house, chuckling. He
rang the bell, and almost immediately the door opened. There was a light
in the office; connected with the jail, and there was usually one or two
deputies on watch in the office all night.

“Why, Polk you’re just the man for us,” said the hearty voice of Mr.
Armitage. Then, in a low tone he explained what was afoot. The deputy,
whose turn it was to be on duty at the Riverdale jail, spoke to his
partner inside, got his hat, and came back with Armitage to the car.

“Evening, Mr. Briggs. Hello Dan!” he said. “I’ve been dead sore ever
since those fellows escaped us on Saturday night. If there’s a chance of
catching ’em, I want to be with you.”

“Hop in,” said Mr. Briggs. “If they are coming directly to town, we
ought to meet them on the pike in a very few moments.”

Dan had already started the motor car again and they ran swiftly out of
town. Passing the Darringford Machine Shops they could see the gaunt
skeleton of the new office building being erected on the site of the old
one that had been burned in the summer. As they shot into the straight
pike, the road seemed deserted.

They came soon to the first cross-road—a lane which cut over the country
and joined the Port Luther highway. Polk shouted to Dan to stop.

“What is it now?” demanded Mr. Briggs, quickly.

“Let me get out and see if a car has recently turned into this road from
the direction of the Falls. It’s sandy here,” said the deputy.

Before he could put his suggestion into words Henri, the Frenchman, was
out in the roadway in his stead. He carried Dan’s lantern with him, and
turned the wick up so he might see.

“There is no marks of a tire, Monsieur,” said Henri, confidently. “The
car has not turned this way——”

“Hark!” exclaimed Dan.

The humming of a fast-driven machine in the distance suddenly came to
their ears. It was approaching from the right direction—and its approach
was speedy.

“Let me back into this road and wait till she passes,” suggested Dan.
“We’ll put the lights out and they won’t see us as they go by.”

“Good!” exclaimed Polk. “Do it.”

The strange car came on like the wind. A bend in the pike had hidden it
thus far; but suddenly the increased volume of sound proved that it had
darted around this bend into the straight stretch of road leading to the
Darringford Shops.

Then the flickering rays of their lamps came into view. The members of
Dan’s party leaned forward, straining their eyes to catch the first
glimpse of the car. Was it the mate to this one which Mr. Briggs owned?

And then, with surprising suddenness, the sound of the other car showed
that its power was being reduced. Dan had stopped the engine of their
auto, and Henri stooped in front of it, with his hand on the crank,
ready to start the instant the other car was past.

Suddenly the Frenchman uttered a yell of fright. The lights of the
strange car swerved, and in a breath it had dashed right into this lane
where the silent car stood!

Had Dan not backed well into the side of the road, there would surely
have been a collision. The lamps of the turning automobile revealed at
the last moment the standing car, and the chauffeur of the other swerved
well to the right hand.

Henri leaped aside, and the guard of the other auto just shaved him. The
two vehicles escaped each other by a narrow margin. Only Mr. Armitage
kept his head. He leaped up with a shout, and held the lantern which had
been turned low again, so that its light fell upon the passing car.

It was painted maroon.

“There they go!” yelled Polk.

They saw the three men in the car—the small man at the wheel and the two
in the tonneau.

One of these latter stood up, and something glittered in his hand. But
no shot was fired.

But Dan Speedwell was seriously troubled. _Where was Billy?_

For a moment the older boy forgot what he was doing, and he sprang to
his feet, too.

“Billy!” he shouted, his voice sounding high and shrill above the sudden
puffing of the car he was in. Henri had grabbed the crank at once and
turned over the flywheel.

The fugitive car was already gathering speed again; but something white
fluttered from the back of the racing automobile.

“I saw him, Dan!” cried Mr. Armitage. “He’s lying there in the slack of
the canopy. I don’t believe the scoundrels know they are being spied
upon.”

“Turn around, boy, and get after them!” cried Polk. “We’ll rescue him!”

It was not yet one o’clock. The leading machine had raced to Upton Falls
and back again. Without much doubt, it was now headed across the county,
aiming for the same section in which it had escaped pursuit on Saturday
night.

But as Dan Speedwell felt the car he drove throb and shake under his
manipulation, and realized that it responded to his will and touch, he
could not but believe that his was the better one.

On and on the cars tore along the road. The red spark of light ahead
seemed to draw nearer. Dan knew that he was gaining upon the other
machine.

Suddenly the spark of light ahead vanished. Dan did not reduce his
speed, but he wondered for a moment if the rascals, becoming wary of
pursuit, had put out all their lights again.

They could observe the lamps on Mr. Briggs’ car and Dan dared not run
dark in this narrow road. One collision they had escaped by a hand’s
breadth; he was not likely to risk another right away.

But before he could comment upon the disappearance of the rear light of
the fugitive automobile, Polk cried from the tonneau:

“There she goes around the corner. They’ve struck the Port Luther
turnpike.”

“And turned toward the coast?” demanded Mr. Armitage.

“Don’t know. Too far away for us to be sure whether she turned right or
left,” said the deputy.

“Slow down when you get there, then, Dan,” said the proprietor of the
motor car, understanding what Mr. Armitage wanted. “There must be some
mark of her tires in the earth. The Port Luther road is not
macadamized.”

But Dan did not reduce speed yet. He could see the roadway very plainly
in the strong radiance of the car’s lights. If the tires of the machine
they were chasing made as plain a trail at the corner as they did in
certain soft spots in this lane, there would be no need for them to
reduce speed, save to make the turn in safety.

Henri saw this, too. He shrugged his shoulders and held up a warning
hand as Mr. Armitage leaned forward to shout in Dan’s ear.

“Wait!” cried the Frenchman, eagerly.

They were at the corner. The glare of the lights revealed a wide patch
of the road. The wheel-marks of the fugitive car had swerved to the
right hand. The robbers were racing on to the north—were, in fact,
running around Riverdale, and away from the coast.

But, as Dan brought Mr. Briggs’ car out of the lane, and shot her into
the broader highway, he looked ahead in vain for the tail-light of the
other maroon automobile. He knew that the pike here was straight for
five miles; there wasn’t a light upon it!

This was the road Dan had first agreed to drive his party to, had they
taken the turn at Peckham’s. But they were several miles below Peckham’s
road. The fugitive car could not have turned into this last highway, for
it could not, running at top speed, have covered five miles, even,
before the pursuing auto took the turn into the pike.

“Running without lights,” was Dan Speedwell’s quick decision. “And why
can we not do the same on this broad road? At least, those fellows
cannot so easily gage our speed,” and he suggested the idea to Henri.
The Frenchman spoke to his employer and then shut off the lights in
front. The tail lamp they allowed to show, to warn any vehicle
behind—although so far they had discovered no car on any of these roads,
save the machine run by the bank robbers.

They skimmed along this wider way at fast speed. Indeed, Dan believed
that he had never traveled so fast before save on the racetrack with his
Flying Feather motorcycle.

Dan felt that before them, flashing in and out of the shadows as they,
too, were, was another car, running likewise without lights and at top
speed. The noise of their own machine drowned all other sounds. Suppose
he should bring this great vehicle crashing into the rear of that other
flying car?

With Billy in the back! The thought shook Dan Speedwell. For an instant
he was tempted to pull down—to reduce speed—to take no further risk in
this wild chase.

But then, the thought that Billy might need him—that the robbers might
have already discovered that they carried a spy with them—urged the
brother to cling to the trail like a hound on the scent of game.

They shot around a curve in the road. Henri held up his hand. Some
sound—a noise louder than the roar of their passage—had come to him.

“What is it?” shouted Dan, but not reducing speed.

“A blow-out!” cried the Frenchman, and pointed ahead.

“It’s the other car!” shouted Polk, leaning over the back of the front
seat. “We’re going to catch ’em. They’ve burst a tire!”




                              CHAPTER XIII

                              A SHARP TURN


Billy Speedwell, in the hood of the robbers’ car, speeding over these
lonely roads at this late hour of the night, had many sensations. He had
his own anxieties and fears—nor were they much connected with the
wrecked automobile in the tree-tops; nevertheless, they were poignant
troubles.

Billy was much shaken as the motor car bounced over the way. The pace
was not quite so wild, however, as it had been on the run down to the
Falls. George was handling the car with more caution. Billy could hear a
low murmur of voices—now and then a little cry. The man who had been
shot, and who had kept perfectly still while at Rebo’s garage, was
having his wound dressed, without doubt.

Nothing occurred to alarm Billy, or to spur his wit to any action, until
the car suddenly took the turn into the lane, where the second maroon
machine was in hiding. The short turn surprised Billy quite as much as
it surprised his brother and those with him.

Billy heard the shouting, saw a light flashed, and realized that the car
he was with had barely grazed another touring automobile standing
without lights in the narrow roadway. Then he recognized his brother’s
voice as Dan shouted his name!

Billy could do nothing but wave his hand—and he did not know that the
signal was seen. He realized on the instant, however—as did the three
robbers—that they were pursued. Somehow, Billy’s written information had
reached Dan Speedwell’s ear, and he—with others—were out to catch the
men who had looted the Sudds’ house and who (so Billy believed) had
robbed the Riverdale bank.

Billy knew quite well the direction in which he was traveling. In a very
few minutes they would pass a spot in the big swamp which lay less than
half a mile from his own home. And Billy Speedwell very much wished that
he was safe in his home at that moment!

Lights flashed beside the road, but at some distance ahead. Billy knew
that they were already in the thick woods lying behind his own home. The
flaring of the lights assured him that they had come upon a hunting
party.

Indeed, as George shut off the power, and the noise of the engine
ceased, the yelping of the dogs could be plainly heard. They had treed
something right beside the highway.

“Switch on the lights quick!” whispered the man who seemed to command
the trio. “They are too busy to have seen us yet.”

“But can’t we take some side road?” asked the wounded one.

“There is none, I tell you; I know the country like a book. We have got
to pass that crowd of fools.”

The lamps were already alight; the chauffeur spun the flywheel and the
car moved on. It might have seemed to any of the party of hunters, who
noticed at all, that the automobile had only then flashed around the
curve in the road.

It leaped ahead again, but not before Billy heard the approaching purr
of the car in pursuit. Dan and his friends were close behind!

“Hold on!” yelled somebody. “Look out for the dogs.”

The thieves uttered exclamations of anger, but George slowed down. The
excited canines were leaping about in the roadway. The ’coon had taken
to a tall, straight tree, directly on the line of the highway. The
branch on which the animal crouched overhung the road.

The torches and lanterns flashed in front of the car. The chauffeur
brought it down to a creeping pace. Those beside the road obtained a
good view of the car, and of the men in it. This was in all probability
not to the liking of the latter. Beside, there was the license plate
behind—no dragging robe covered those numbers now.

Already a man with an axe was at the base of the tree. He struck a blow,
or two, before the motor car crawled past. They were going to fell the
tree so as to get their quarry.

The maroon car passed. Billy heard the sound of the pursuing auto,
growing louder and louder. He decided that the moment had come for him
to escape from the car, for the hunters would protect him from the
vengeance of the criminals.

And even as he was about crawling out of the canopy, and dropping to the
lighted roadway, the boy was startled by a sharp detonation—followed by
the shaking of the automobile as it was brought to a sudden stop.

“A blow-out!” thought Billy.

The car was stalled. He heard the three thieves express their fear and
anger. He knew he would be less likely to be observed by them now than
at any time. He leaped down and scuttled into the bushes in a moment.

“Hullo!” shouted one of the men of the hunting party. “A breakdown?”

Then another hunter heard a fast-approaching car, and uttered a cry of
warning:

“Look out for the dogs! Here’s another of those plaguy autos.”

Billy was aware, from his place of concealment, that the three robbers
were extremely busy men. They soon had a lantern beside the burst tire,
and tools spread about the road. George and the wounded one were jacking
up the car so as to get off the old tire and replace it with a new one.

With a sudden shout, the leader of the trio of robbers left the car and
bounded toward the ’coon tree. He passed Billy so near that the boy
shrank back with an affrighted cry. He thought he had been discovered.

But the man did not stop for Billy Speedwell. Indeed, he probably did
not hear the lad’s cry. He had seen the lights of the pursuing
automobile at the turn in the road.

He dashed in among the hunters who, with their flaring torches and
lanterns and dogs, were gathered about the tree in which the ’coon had
taken refuge. The man with the axe had already cut half through the tall
trunk.

Without a word, but giving the axeman a strong push to one side, the
leader of the thieves seized the axe, wrenching it from the other’s
hands. Then, with mighty blows, he set upon the work of felling the
tree. The hunters were amazed. They did not know whether it was a joke,
or not. But suddenly one observed the object of the stranger.

“Look out, there!” he cried. “You’ll have that tree down across the
road.”

And, even as he spoke, with the second motor car still some rods away,
and slowing down, the event he had prophesied occurred! With a crash the
tree fell. The motor rascal was an excellent woodsman. He had known just
how to slant his axe to make the tree fall in the right direction.

As it came down to earth the yelping dogs made a dash for the ’coon, and
for some moments there was a lively scrimmage in the brush across the
highway; but nobody had paid any attention to this event.

The pursuing car stopped in bare season to escape collision with the
fallen tree. It had been completely blocked from further pursuit.

“Stop them! Hold them!” shouted Mr. Briggs and Mr. Armitage.

“Are you there, Billy?” yelled Dan Speedwell.

The leader of the party in the first maroon car leaped back toward that
crippled machine. At the moment one of his mates whistled a shrill
signal, while George, the chauffeur, shouted:

“All ready! We’re off!”

Mr. Polk, as well as several of the hunters, made for the man. He eluded
them with ease, sprang into the middle of the road, and sprinted for the
forward car. There was only Billy Speedwell between him and escape.




                              CHAPTER XIV

                        A FAILURE AND A SUCCESS


But Billy was a factor to be counted on. There was peril in any attempt
to halt the leader of the bank robbers. The lad knew that well enough.
He would have tackled either of the others with a better liking for the
job; he knew them to be less desperate.

He shot out of the shadow of the bushes, still on hands and knees, and
threw his body across the track of the running man. The fellow could
neither dodge, nor overleap the boy; the latter had timed his
intervention too well. So he tripped upon Billy, and sprawled like a
huge frog in the roadway.

Billy was not hurt. He sprang up, saw that his antagonist was down, and
immediately jumped upon his back, shouting:

“Come on! Come on! I’ve got him! Help!”

The fellow struggled to get up. He was able to lift the boy’s weight
with ease. In half a minute Billy knew he would be shaken off. Why
didn’t some of those ’coon hunters take a hand in the proceedings?

Billy heard the sound of running feet behind him; but it was a long way
behind. Then came an answering shout from Dan:

“Hold to him, Billy! Hang to him!”

Billy did his best. But he was light weight for the leader of the
motor-robbers. That individual got to his feet, reached behind him, and
shoved the lad loose, pushing him far from him upon the road.

Fortunately he did not stay to punish the boy, but bounded on. Dan was
beside his brother in a moment, leaning over him and seizing Billy’s
shoulder in an anxious grip.

“You’re not hurt, Billy? Say you’re not hurt?” he cried. “Did that
man——”

“Oh, ouch!” gasped the younger boy, getting his breath. “Never mind me!
Get him, Dan!”

But with a loud blast the robbers’ automobile shot ahead. They were off.

Mr. Briggs wanted to run back and take the Speedwells home; but there
was a path through the woods right here to their house, and the boys
refused to cause any trouble. The hunters cut up the tree and cleared
the roadway so that the maroon car could go on; but the automobile
driven by the men who had robbed Mr. Sudds and the bank was then far,
far out of reach.

Everywhere in town there was talk of the robbers. Mr. Sudds had lost
anywhere from ten to a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry, so
gossip said. But the Speedwell boys did not add to it, although they
might have told some interesting particulars of the robbery and how the
thieves had gotten away.

Josiah Somes, having been able to do nothing but annoy Mr. Briggs and
his friends, was discreetly silent regarding the telephone message he
had received from Rebo’s garage at Upton Falls. So nobody stopped Dan,
or Billy, to ask them about the midnight race of the automobiles.

The boys hurried home and begged permission to remain away from classes
that morning. They would make the time up on their lessons later; it was
quite important that they should get the car out of the tree before
further trouble ensued. Billy’s motorcycle was hidden down there on the
river road, too.

The brothers got the new post Dan cut at midnight, and another stick for
the arm of the derrick, hurried to the place, and raised a new lifting
apparatus. The auto and the motorcycle were both safe, nor did anybody
come to trouble them while they worked.

There was a steep path down to the shore of the river, and up this Billy
lugged the tangle of rope and chain, with the hoisting tackle, that had
fallen with the derrick when their enemy had cast the apparatus over the
precipice.

Meanwhile, Dan dug a hole for the new post, and it was set up, and the
derrick re-rigged. It was Billy who climbed down to the overturned auto
again. He fastened it in a strong sling, brought the ends of the rope in
a loop over it, and hooked the falls into it, which Dan pulled taut.

The latter had already unhitched the horses from the wagon, and now had
them rigged to the second pulley, ready to start the weight of the
wrecked car out of the tree. Billy refused to come up.

“I must see her start, Dan. Perhaps something will catch—we mustn’t
break or mar it any more than possible,” declared Billy, quite
nervously.

“Look out for yourself, old man,” Dan returned, and then spoke to the
horses.

Bob and Betty strained to their collars; the rope tauntened; the motor
car began to squeak and the tree branches to rustle.

“She’s coming!” yelled Billy.

He stood on a limb, clinging to another with one hand. The car started,
stuck a little, and then came loose with so sudden a jerk that the bulk
of it was dashed against the boy!

“Whoa!” cried Dan; and it was well he stopped the team. Billy was flung
off his unstable footing; but he had presence of mind enough to seize
the car itself, and so hung on, his body swinging with the auto.

“Are you all right, Billy?” demanded Dan, anxiously.

“Right—oh!” returned the younger boy. “Let her go! I’m coming up with
her.”

And he did. In five minutes the scratched automobile was hoisted out of
the gulf, and the boys worked it over the farm wagon body. Upon that
they lowered it carefully.

It was safe! And as far as Billy and Dan could see, it was not much
damaged—not materially so, at least.

They dismantled the derrick and let the posts fall over the cliff, with
those that had been cut down in the night. Then Billy went down below
again and got the fisherman to help him up the path with the cushions
and the rest of the automobile outfit, Dan meanwhile filling up the
holes in the bank, and replacing the turf.

Everything once loaded on the wagon, the boys drove away. In passing
through the town several people remarked upon the condition of the
wrecked vehicle which the boys had purchased of Maxey Solomons, and more
than one intimated that the Speedwells had spent their good money for
something that neither they—nor anybody else—could make use of!

The boys knew that they would have to take the wrecked car to the
Darringford shops to have it rebuilt and put in running order; but first
they wished to assemble the parts as well as they could in their own
workshop. Upside down as the car lay, Dan and Billy could see several
bad breaks in the mechanism. The boys were not altogether sure that they
would be able to put the wrecked car into good condition with the five
hundred dollars that remained of their savings-bank hoard. But they said
nothing to each other regarding these doubts.




                               CHAPTER XV

                             SECRET SERVICE


Mr. Speedwell possessed some little ingenuity in mechanics himself, and
perhaps Dan had inherited his taste for the same study. The boys knew
they had a hard task before them when, on getting the wrecked car out of
the farm wagon, they turned it over and ran it in upon the shop floor.
Their father’s opinion was anxiously awaited by the brothers.

He was not a man who grew enthusiastic without cause, and was slow in
forming his judgment. It was not until he had been able to thoroughly go
over the wrecked car that he told Dan and Billy what he thought of their
bargain.

“If we had the tools here, we three could put that car in as good
condition as she was when she came from the shop,” he finally said,
wiping his hands on a bit of waste. “As she stands she is worth three
times what you gave for her, I am sure. And after we have made all the
repairs we can make, the expense of putting her in first-class shape and
repainting her—if you are content with a plain warship drab color—ought
not to be above seventy-five dollars.”

“Bully!” shouted Billy, flinging his cap into the air.

“And can you help us at once, Dad?” asked Dan, eagerly. “We want to
enter for that thousand mile endurance test if we can. It will come in
Thanksgiving week, and we sha’n’t have to miss school.”

“I will go to work on it this very day,” returned Mr. Speedwell, smiling
at their enthusiasm.

But he pointed out again that there would be many things besides the
repainting of the car that they could not do. And so, after school the
next afternoon, Dan and Billy went over to the Darringford shops to see
what kind of an arrangement they could make for the repair of the drab
car.

The boys had a friend in Mr. Robert Darringford, who was really the head
of the concern; but they did not wish to seem to ask a favor of him, so
went directly to the overseer of the department in which the wrecked car
would have to be repaired. This overseer was the father of one of their
fellow-club members, “Biff” Hardy, and Biff himself worked in the shop.

“Fred was telling me about the car you boys got hold of,” said Mr.
Hardy. “I guess he knows something about it, and he saw it in the tree.”

“What does he say?” asked Billy, quickly.

“Says we can fix it up like new.”

“And you can do it at once?”

“Don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t. Of course, Mr. Avery can tell
you better than I,” said the foreman.

Dan and Billy looked doubtfully at each other. They did not like to ask
any favor of the superintendent of the shops, for Francis Avery,
Chanceford’s brother, was not their friend.

“You know of nothing now that will be ahead of our job?” asked Dan,
gravely.

“Not a thing. I was just going over the order book. There is very little
outside repairing to be done just now.”

“Then, if we get the machine down here to-morrow it’s likely that you
can go right to work on it?”

“Guess so,” said Mr. Hardy, confidently.

As they walked up town the brothers chanced to pass the Farmers’
National Bank. Through the barred window Mr. Baird, the cashier, saw
them, and beckoned them to enter.

“Boys, I have a very serious proposal to make you,” the cashier said.
“We have just had a conference with Mr. Briggs, one of our big
depositors. He has told us of the race he had with the car of those
robbers who broke into Mr. Sudds’ house, and whom we are sure are the
same that robbed this bank.”

“And I am positive they are the same men,” said Dan.

“Me, too,” agreed Billy. “And they’ve got some automobile! It’s as good
a car as Mr. Briggs’ new one.”

“Well, as to that I cannot say,” returned the cashier. “But Mr. Briggs
has told us of the connection of you two brothers with the thieves, and
he has put a thought into my mind.”

“And that is?” asked Dan, seriously.

“That you boys—at least, Billy, here—will be able to recognize and
identify those robbers.”

“I should say I would!” declared Billy. “At least, the fellow who bosses
them, and the man who was wounded at Mr. Sudds’, were both without masks
or goggles for part of the time. I’d know them anywhere. And the
chauffeur, George, I believe I should know by his figure.”

“I couldn’t be sure myself,” said Dan, doubtfully. “I made a mistake in
that matter of identification once. I took Henri, Mr. Briggs’ own
chauffeur, for one of the thieves.”

“Well, we will say, then, that Billy is the only one who can positively
identify the men; but you both know the car.”

“If I ever see one like it it will either be the robbers’ car or Mr.
Briggs’,” laughed Dan. “They can’t spring a third one on me.”

“Well. You see what I am getting at,” said Mr. Baird, impressively. “It
is in your power to aid the bank. I understand that you boys have bought
a motor car?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you will be riding around the country in it a good deal.”

“We hope to,” declared the brothers, in chorus.

“Then, it is my firm belief, boys, that you will some day run up against
those three men, either with or without the maroon car,” declared Mr.
Baird, impressively.

“Oh, do you think so?” cried Dan.

“They have been successful in at least two robberies. Of course, the
whole county—half the state, indeed—is awake to their actions now, and
they will have to keep quiet for a while. But, having been so successful
in this manner of work—this automobile-highway robbery—they will wish to
try it again.”

“That seems reasonable,” admitted Dan.

“And if we could only find them!” cried Billy.

“That is the idea,” said Mr. Baird. “If you find them, bring about their
arrest. The bank will back you up in it, no matter how much it costs, in
time, trouble, or money. And, boys, you will lose nothing yourselves if
you bring about the arrest of the thieves.”

The Speedwells went forth considerably excited. “I tell you, Dan!” Billy
whispered, “wouldn’t it be great if we came across those three rascals?”

“It would give me a whole lot of satisfaction to see them put where the
dogs wouldn’t bite them!” agreed the older boy. “But I’d like to have
their car.”

“Do you suppose it is a Postlethwaite, like Mr. Briggs’?” asked Billy.

“It’s a six-cylinder car without doubt, and looks enough like Mr.
Briggs’ to be own sister to it. Hullo! Here’s Burton Poole and his car,”
Dan added.

“Come along!” said Billy, shortly. “Chance Avery is with him. I could
give that fellow a piece of my mind.”

“It wouldn’t do any good,” admonished Dan. “We don’t know that he
chopped down our derrick.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure. Who else would be mean enough? We haven’t many
enemies, I hope.”

“No. Hullo, Burton!”

The car Dan had mentioned came to a halt right beside the Speedwell
boys, and its owner hailed Dan. Therefore the latter had to speak.
Chance Avery, who was driving it, had shut off the power, and now he got
down and took out the gasoline can. They were all in front of
Appleyard’s store.

“I hear you got Maxey’s car out of the tree, all hunky-dory,” said
Burton, heartily, “and I’m glad of it.”

“You don’t suppose your partner will offer us his congratulations; do
you?” asked Billy, significantly, as Chance went off, scowling, to buy
gasoline.

“Oh, well, he has a grouch,” laughed Burton Poole. “But, he’s making
this old car hum! I never could get such speed out of her.”

“You don’t give her enough attention,” laughed Dan, as Burton got out
lazily, and opened the gasoline tank.

“Never mind; I add weight to her when we’re racing,” chuckled Poole.

He turned carelessly away from the open tank as he spoke and suddenly
spied a youngster standing on the curb—a little fellow of not more than
ten years with a lighted cigarette stuck in his mouth! Poole suddenly
grew angry.

“Ted Berry! What are you smoking that thing for?” he demanded, sharply.

Little Berry was Burton’s nephew, and in spite of Burton’s haughtiness
and laziness, he was rather a decent fellow, and took an elder-brotherly
interest in his sister’s boy.

“G’wan!” returned Teddy Berry, who had begun to run with a pretty rough
set of youngsters, and resented his young uncle’s interference. “You
didn’t pay for this smoke.”

“Let me get my hands on you!” began Burton, in wrath, leaping for the
saucy little fellow.

Ted, however, was as elusive as an eel. He dodged under Burton’s arm and
would have got away had he not slid on the mud in the gutter, right
behind the automobile.

“Now I’ve got you!” cried Burton, leaping again and catching the little
fellow by the shoulder.

Ted had withdrawn the cigarette from his mouth. It was in his hand as
his uncle grabbed him. The next instant it flashed through the air—both
Dan and Billy saw it—and there sounded a deafening explosion and a
tongue of flame leaped from the auto’s gasoline tank!




                              CHAPTER XVI

                      INGRATITUDE OF CHANCE AVERY


There had been enough gasoline—rather, enough of the vapor—left in the
tank to ignite the instant the lighted cigarette fell into it. And the
flames spread with surprising rapidity.

A crowd ran toward the square, where the auto stood; but nobody seemed
to know at first what to do. Some shouted for water, others merely
yelled “Fire! Fire!” at the top of their voices. And one fleet-footed
youngster made for the hose house, intending to arouse the volunteer
firemen.

Burton Poole let his small nephew escape and turned with a startled
visage toward his car. Chance Avery had heard the explosion, too, and
dashed out of Appleyard’s store to see the car burst into flames. He
grabbed a pail of water from a man who was running with it, and was
about to dash the fluid upon the flames when Dan Speedwell shouted to
him to stop.

“Not water, Avery! You’ll only make it spread!” cried Speedwell. “Here,
Billy! Get me that shovel.”

Billy obeyed on the instant. The shovel was in the idle hands of a
laborer—a man who did not know enough to use it in this emergency.

There was a heap of sand in front of Appleyard’s, where the cement walk
was being repaired. Dan seized the shovel from his brother, and began
heaving the sand in a shower upon the blazing car.

Wherever the sand landed the fire was snuffed out. A well aimed
shovelful quenched the flames which flared from the opening of the tank.
In a very few moments every spark was out—and thanks to Dan Speedwell,
and to Dan alone.

But only one of the partners thanked Dan. Burton Poole wrung his hand
and clapped him on the shoulder, and told him he was “a good fellow.”
But Avery kept his face averted and examined the damage done to the
automobile with lowering brow.

“It will have to go to the shop,” growled Chance, and would say no more.

Dan and Billy went home on their motorcycles and found that already Mr.
Speedwell had put in several hours upon the auto. They were able to
hitch Bob and Betty to a truck and drag the car, on its own wheels, down
to the Darringford shops. There they delivered it to Mr. Hardy with the
expectation that in a day or two, at the latest, they would be riding in
their own machine.

They were busy making up lost recitations for several days. And when
they went down to the shops to inquire about the machine they found
nothing done to it. A big rush of extra work was on, they were informed.
The repair gang couldn’t get at the drab racer.

This began to bother the Speedwells after they had called twice and
found nothing done. Then they saw Chance Avery and Burton Poole running
about town again in their machine. It had been repaired, and repainted,
and was as bright as though new.

The brothers noticed this fact about Burton Poole’s machine one evening
when they attended a business and social meeting of the Riverdale Outing
Club. Chance Avery, who was still president and captain of the club,
despite his unpopularity with the majority of the members, seemed to
feel amused on this evening whenever he looked at Dan or Billy
Speedwell.

During the social hour Jim Stetson and his sister, Ruth, invited a few
friends to run up to their uncle’s cottage at Karnac Lake. The last time
the Stetsons had had a party at the lodge it was something of a failure
because of certain incidents that attended the run.

“We certainly are not going to chance the risk of being chased by elks
and letting Mildred get lost in the Big Swamp,” chattered Ruth, with her
arm around the waist of the doctor’s daughter. “We’re going in cars. The
Greenes will go, and we depend upon you, Burton, to bring a part of the
crowd. And let’s see—oh, yes, you, Dan Speedwell! You and Billy have a
car?”

“So we suppose,” returned Dan, rather ruefully. “It’s being put in shape
now; but your party isn’t until next week Friday, is it?”

“That is the time,” said Ruth Stetson. “I am going to ask you to bring
Milly here, and Lettie Parker, and Kate O’Brien and Maybell Turner,
beside two of the boys. Can you do it?”

“Why, the car will hold that number,” said Dan, quietly. “I think we
shall not fail you.”

Chance lounged near, with his hands in his pockets and there was a
sneering smile on his face.

“Aren’t you counting chickens before they’re hatched, Speedwell?” he
suggested. “You don’t know whether that broken-down car of yours is
going to run at all, do you?”

“Oh, I guess she will be all right when they get through with her down
at Darringfords,” returned Dan, easily.

“That car will never be fixed in those shops,” remarked Chance.

“Who says so?” demanded Billy, hotly.

“I say so,” snarled Chance. “I know all about it. The car isn’t worth
repairing in the first place. It’s too badly wrecked. You Speedwells
might as well go down and take your ramshackle old car home again.”

“Biff” Hardy caught Dan by the sleeve as he and Billy were going out.

“What is it?” asked the older Speedwell.

“You’d better mark what Chance told you, old man,” whispered Hardy.

“What do you mean?” asked Dan, in surprise.

“You just think he’s gassin’, do you?”

“What else can it be? What has he to do with the Darringford shops?”

“Well, you must admit,” said Biff, with a broad grin on his freckled
face, “that Frank Avery has something to do with the shops.”

“Naturally. He’s superintendent.”

“And I only know what father said. He’s worried about it. Burton Poole’s
car came in to be repaired and repainted after your car was on the
floor. Dad had to drop everything else and fix up Poole’s car. But the
Super forbade his touching your machine. It stands right there yet, and
Avery says that no more outside repairing can be done for a month.”

“Not until after the thousand mile run!” gasped Dan.




                              CHAPTER XVII

                            A FRIEND IN NEED


The Speedwell boys went home in no very pleasant frame of mind.
Heretofore they had experienced sufficient trouble through Chance Avery
and his brother to know that the superintendent of the Darringford shops
was quite capable of giving Chance great help in his attempt to “get
even” with anybody whom he disliked.

And neither Chance nor Francis Avery could ever forgive the Speedwell
boys for beating Chance in the manufacturers’ motorcycle races held at
the Riverdale Baseball Park not long before. Chance had been picked by
the superintendent of the Darringford shops to ride a Flying Feather,
and carry the colors of the local shops to victory. But at the last
moment Dan Speedwell, likewise riding one of the Darringfords’ machines,
had beaten out the field and left Chance sadly in the rear.

“And they are going to make it impossible—if they can—for us to do
anything to Chance and Burton in this endurance test of autos that Mr.
Briggs is financing,” grumbled Billy. “Oh, pshaw, Dan! What makes folks
so mean?”

“I don’t know. We’ll ask Doc Bugs,” laughed Dan, referring to one of the
academy instructors who was very much inclined to harp upon the microbe
theory, and bacilli. “There’s something mean got into Chance, and his
brother’s caught it. That’s all I know about it.”

“But we’re not going to let them beat us so easy,” growled Billy.

“Not so’s you’d notice it,” agreed the older brother.

“What will we do?”

“First we’ll go over to the shops to-morrow and find out just where we
stand.”

“But if they won’t fix the auto there, what will we do? We can’t cart
the machine clear to Compton, and it would cost a mint of money to have
men from the manufacturing plant come here to make repairs.”

“We’ll see,” said Dan. “Let’s sleep over it.”

That was like Dan; he always thought a thing out by himself. Billy, more
impulsive and ready to discuss a point, found his brother sometimes
exasperating. It kept him “guessing,” he complained; he never knew just
what Dan would finally do.

He was not surprised, however, the next afternoon after the second
session, that Dan should head for the Darringford shops instead of
taking wheel for home. They came to the small gate in the stockade-fence
that surrounded the machine shops, spoke to the gate-keeper, and went in
to the repair department. When Mr. Hardy saw them in the doorway he
looked slightly discomposed. In truth his somewhat smutted face changed
color.

“Sorry, boys,” he said, hurrying toward them; “we haven’t had a chance
to touch your machine yet. Hurried to death.”

“Of course, your outside jobs take their regular turn, don’t they, Mr.
Hardy?” asked Dan, smoothly.

“Oh, of course! Er—that is—it’s the general rule.”

“Then no other outside job has been put in ahead of ours?”

“Why—now——”

“What do those fellows want?” asked a sharp voice suddenly, and Dan and
Billy turned to see the superintendent of the shops eyeing them with
disfavor.

Mr. Hardy waved the boys toward Mr. Avery.

“You’ll have to talk to him, boys,” he said. “I haven’t anything to do
with it.”

“What are they bothering you about, Hardy?” demanded the superintendent.

“We have been waiting some days for our automobile to be fixed, Mr.
Avery,” said Dan, firmly.

“And you’ll wait a few days longer, I guess,” said the man,
unpleasantly.

“But we are in a hurry, and the understanding was——”

“With whom did you have any understanding when you brought that car
here?” interrupted Avery.

“Mr. Hardy.”

“And if he told you that he could put aside our regular work for outside
jobs, he overstepped his bounds.”

“He told us nothing of the kind,” said Dan, quickly. “He only said our
car should have precedence over other outside work that might come in.”

“Well, it will,” said Avery, with a laugh.

“It hasn’t,” exclaimed Dan, sharply.

“What’s that?”

“Since our machine was brought here Burton Poole’s has been repaired and
repainted. Ours hasn’t been touched.”

“Look here, young saucebox!” exclaimed Avery, in a passion, “Who told
you to come here and tell me my business? Your car will wait its turn——”

“You gave its turn to Poole’s car,” declared Dan, stubbornly. “You know
you did. You do not mean that our car shall be repaired.”

Somebody had stopped quietly behind them. A stern voice said:

“What’s the matter, Avery?”

“Mr. Robert!” exclaimed Billy.

Robert Darringford stood there, his automobile coat thrown back, his
Norfolk jacket unbelted, and cap and goggles pushed back from his
pleasant face. He was just drawing off his gauntlets.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Avery?” he repeated, as the flaming face of the
superintendent was turned toward him.

“These young rascals have become impudent!” declared the superintendent.
“I’ve told you before, Mr. Robert, that I consider your attitude toward
these Speedwells as utterly wrong——”

“Come, come,” said the younger Darringford, good-naturedly enough, yet
with a tone of voice that halted Avery in his headlong speech. “Let’s
get at the trouble. Of course, Dan and Billy are my friends. I have told
you that several times.”

“And they presume upon your notice of them,” declared the
superintendent. “Your undignified treatment of them gives them a license
which they abuse.”

“And how have they abused my kindness now?” queried Darringford,
gravely.

“They have brought us an old, ramshackle car here to be patched up. You
know Hardy’s department is working overtime. All outside work must take
its chance. We cannot do this now.”

“And the boys are impatient, are they?” demanded Darringford, smiling,
however, quite kindly upon Dan and Billy.

“When we brought our car here, the shop was not so busy,” said Dan,
interrupting. “Mr. Avery knows that. He has had a car repaired here
since ours has stood on the floor.”

“How is this, Avery?” asked Mr. Robert, sharply.

“The boy tells an untruth,” snapped the other. Then, thinking better of
it, he added: “Or, at least, I know nothing about it. I only know that
Burton Poole had a machine here to be fixed, and I ordered Hardy to get
it out of the way.”

“And why not this one?” queried Mr. Robert, pointing to the drab car.

“Well——”

“Chance is driving Poole’s car, isn’t he?” asked Mr. Robert, with marked
emphasis.

“Well, sir! You know yourself we are over-driven here!” cried Avery, in
despair of clearing his skirts completely of the ugly charge of
favoritism.

“Quite true. We will excuse you, Mr. Avery. I will attend to the
Speedwells’ car,” said the young proprietor of the shops.

He turned his back on his superintendent—not without a little bow,
however—and said pleasantly to Dan:

“Now, young man, as spokesman for you and your brother, tell me how you
came in possession of a Breton-Melville car, this year’s type, racing
rig, and apparently one that has been misused, at that?”

Dan laughed. Mr. Robert’s keen eye was not to be mistaken. One would not
have thought that he had more than glanced casually at the wreck of
Maxey Solomons’ automobile.

But between them (for Billy was bound to put in a word here and there)
the Speedwells told him of their good fortune in obtaining possession of
the wrecked car. Mr. Robert grew more and more interested. He began to
take off his coat, and his cap and auto-goggles followed. Mr. Avery
waited in the near distance, covertly watching the “young boss.”

“It’s a great chance for you, boys!” declared Mr. Robert. “Why, do you
know, I’m going to enter for Briggs’ endurance test myself. I believe
I’ve got a car that can even beat out a Breton-Melville,” and his eyes
twinkled. “But it would be too bad if your car wasn’t ready in time, so
that we could find out just how good a machine it is.”

“We mean to get it repaired somehow,” said Dan, firmly. “If not here——”

“And why not here?” demanded Mr. Robert. He glanced quickly around and
began to strip off his Norfolk jacket. “Hey, Hardy! Have you got an
extra suit of overalls anywhere about? I want ’em.”

“Sure, Mr. Robert,” declared the foreman, coming briskly forward.

“What Mr. Avery says is quite true, boys,” declared young Darringford,
seriously. “This department is driven to death. But then—I’m sort of an
outsider and I’m not driven to death. I’m going to shuck my coat, and
get into these duds—that’s it, Hardy! thank you—and then we’ll see what
is the matter with the vitals of that machine. Mr. Avery,” he added,
with a humorous twist of his lips, “won’t mind if I use the tools here
to repair your machine. I am rather a privileged character myself about
the shops. But you know, Dan and Billy, we always back up our foremen
and superintendent; and it is quite true that the men are too busy to do
your work at present.”




                             CHAPTER XVIII

                       ON THE ROAD TO KARNAC LAKE


The Speedwell boys could have imagined no better outcome of this affair.
Yet they were both too independent to have courted Mr. Robert’s
attention and complained to him of the unfair treatment they had
received at the hands of the superintendent of the shops.

As for the car itself, the boys knew very well that they could leave
their Breton-Melville in no better hands. Mr. Robert, though
college-bred, had put on overalls and worked every summer in the shops
since he was fifteen years of age. He was a finished mechanic. That is
why his men respected and liked him so much.

Dan and Billy retired, full of glee over the turn matters had taken.
Their car would be put in order—in first-class order—and they need have
no fear but that the work would be done promptly. In fact, the first of
the week Mr. Robert sent word to them that they could take the car home.

They settled their bill at the office like any other customer, and it
was no small one. They doubted if Mr. Robert had charged them much for
his own time; but the repairs cost over eighty dollars. When they ran
the car out of the yard the enamel paint was scarcely dry. But the
mechanism worked like that of a fine watch!

Were they proud as they sped swiftly through the Riverdale streets?
Well!

There was nothing beautiful about the drab car, saving her lines. She
was neither a touring car nor one built for show. But Mr. Robert had
assured them that he had never gone over and assembled the parts of a
finer piece of auto work than this same Breton-Melville car.

“I shall have to look out for my own laurels, I very well see,” laughed
the acting head of the Darringford shops. “And Mr. Briggs himself will
have to get the best there is out of his Postlethwaite if he expects to
beat you boys in that endurance test.”

So Dan and Billy had reason for feeling proud of their car, although it
had few of the attractive qualities of the usual auto. It was plainly
furnished, and there was not so much brass work as on most cars. As it
sped along, to the observer from the sidewalk it had the appearance of
being stripped down to the very skeleton of a car.

The Stetson’s run to Karnac Lake was arranged for Friday afternoon,
immediately after the close of classes. Dan and Billy were hard-working
boys, both in school and on the dairy farm; they had to arrange their
schedule, as Billy said, with considerable care to be able to accompany
their friends on this run to the cottage in the woods.

Karnac Lake was a beautiful spot, some fifty miles up the river, and the
road was a good automobile path all the way. Burton Poole and Chance
Avery were boasting of having “done it” in an hour and a half.

“If they can do it in that time, in that machine of Burton’s,” declared
Dan Speedwell, after they had tried out their Breton-Melville car for
two evenings along the county pike, “we can do as well. Take my word for
it, Billy.”

“I believe you,” agreed his brother.

“Then we won’t leave it all for dad to do on Saturday morning,” Dan
said. “We can run back, help him milk, take our routes as usual, and
then race back to Karnac and get there by mid-forenoon again.”

“Agreed!” said Billy. “I wish we had motor-wagons to use in distributing
the milk, anyway. Wouldn’t that be a great scheme?”

“All to the good. But one motor-wagon would do it. We could get over
both routes in less time than it takes us to deliver one route with a
horse.”

“It’s us for a motor-truck, then,” cried Billy.

“I’ve got a scheme,” said Dan, slowly. “Maybe it won’t work; and then
again——”

“What is it?” asked Billy, eagerly.

“I don’t know as I’ll tell you just yet,” said Dan, grinning at him.

And just then something called Billy away—some duty or other—and he
forgot later to ask Dan to explain his tantalizing statement.

The Speedwells made their preparations well in advance, and between
sessions Friday noon ran home on their Flying Feathers and came back to
town in their Breton-Melville car. They backed it into Holliday’s
garage, where it would come to no harm during the afternoon, and as soon
as school was over they ran to the garage, filled up their tank,
strapped a spare five gallon can of gasoline on the running board, as
well as a pair of extra tires (that had cost them a pretty penny) in
their enamel-cloth covers, and ran out on the street.

Dan guided the car around to Mildred’s house, where the girls and boys
who were to ride with them had agreed to assemble. The doctor’s daughter
with Lettie and Kate and Maybell were already there and Wiley Moyle and
young Fisher Greene soon arrived. Fisher was always being crowded out of
the auto belonging to his family; but he had objected so strenuously on
this occasion that room had to be found in one of the machines and he
had elected to come with the Speedwells, for he and Billy were pretty
good chums.

Fisher sat beside Dan on the front seat; four of the party squeezed into
the rear of the tonneau and the remaining two—Wiley Moyle and Katie
O’Brien—faced the latter quartette. They were comfortably seated, their
possessions stowed away, and Dan ran the car out into the Court House
square just as the clock in the tower struck four.

They had not long to wait for the rest of the party. Chance Avery shot
the Poole car into the square from a by-street, narrowly escaped running
over Rover, Mr. Appleyard’s old dog, and very much frightened old lady
Massey, who was about to cross the street. And he brought the car to an
abrupt stop with a grin on his face, while his open muffler allowed the
exhaust to deafen the whole neighborhood.

“For pity’s sake, close that muffler, Chance!” shouted Monroe Stevens,
who was riding in the Greene’s car, and which now came into sight with
Perry Greene at the wheel. “We can’t hear ourselves talk.”

“I hope the Town Council puts a stop to that,” declared Fisher Greene,
in the Speedwell car.

“Puts a stop to what, young fellow?” demanded Chance Avery, in no
pleasant tone.

“They’re going to fine those automobilists who run through the streets
with their mufflers open,” said Fisher. “Just to show off, you know—make
other folks notice that there’s an auto running by. It’s a good deal
like little Ted Berry smoking cigarettes. It makes him sick, and his
uncle punishes him for it; but Ted thinks it’s making a man of him. I
reckon that would-be chauffeurs who run with their mufflers open, figure
it out the same as Teddy.”

Everybody laughed but Chance; he only scowled and demanded of Jim
Stetson:

“Well, are you folks ready?”

“All right, girls?” asked the master of ceremonies, standing up in the
Greenes’ car.

Even Lettie Parker had forgotten that she was seated beside Billy and
Mildred in the tonneau of the smallest and least showy of the equipages.
They were all so anxious to be off.

“Do go on, boys!” cried Miss Parker. “And, oh dear me! I do want you to
get outside of town where you can race. I never did go fast enough yet
in an automobile.”

“Lettie’s fairly gone on autos,” drawled Billy. “And if she ever gets a
machine of her own——”

“Which I intend to do some day, Mr. Smartie!” cried the bronze-haired
girl.

“Oh, I believe you!” responded Billy, who was nothing if not a tease.
“And then we’ll see her riding around town with her nose in the
air—worse than even Nature ever intended,” he added, with a sly glance
at the tip of Miss Parker’s pretty nose, which really was a little
tip-tilted!

“All right for you, Billy Speedwell,” Miss Parker declared. “You shall
never ride in my car when I do get it.”

“No. I sha’n’t want to. I’d rather be somewhere up near the head of the
procession,” said the teasing Billy.

“Say!” cried Lettie, in a heat, “you don’t call this being at the head
of the procession, do you? We’re number three, all right, and there are
none to follow.”

“Run her up a little, Dannie!” begged Wiley Moyle. “That Chance Avery is
pulling ahead as though he was already running for the golden cup.”

“I didn’t know this was to be a motor race,” laughed Dan, quietly
putting the lever up a notch. “I thought we were out for pleasure.”

“Well, it’s no pleasure to be behind everybody else, and taking their
dust,” complained Lettie Parker.

“Be careful, Dan, no matter what they say to you,” said Mildred Kent,
warningly, in her quiet way. “You know, our mothers all expect us to get
safely home again.”

The Greene automobile, which was a heavy, practical family touring car,
was being put to its best pace. Chance Avery was running away from the
party, being already half a mile, or more, ahead of the Greenes.

Dan’s advancing the speed lever was not noticeable in the throbbing or
jar of the car; the Breton-Melville was one of the quietest-running
automobiles in the market. And this speed was nothing to it—as yet.

But in a very few moments they were running directly behind the heavy
car of the Greenes. The dust was choking.

“Oh, do get out of the wake of that old lumber wagon!” cried Lettie, not
very politely. “This dust will smother us.”

“And you wouldn’t be contented to run far enough behind to escape the
worst of it,” grunted Billy.

“Well, Billy Speedwell!” snapped the council clerk’s daughter, “there’s
only one comfortable place in an automobile run—I see that plainly.”

“Where’s that?” asked the innocent Billy.

“A place in the first car,” returned Lettie. “Let the other people have
your dust.”

Suddenly the girls uttered a startled and chorused “Oh, my!” Dan
Speedwell had sheered the car to the left, it darted ahead as though
suddenly shot from a gun, and in a flash had rounded and left behind the
heavy touring car, and they were running second.

“Oh, Dannie!” gasped Mildred. “How did you do it?”

“Perry must have run backwards,” grunted Billy, with scorn. “Of course!
We can’t get any speed out of this old wreck of a car. Ha! shoot it to
them, Dan!”

The Breton-Melville was humming like a huge top. The road flowed away
beneath the wheels as though it traveled on a great spool in the
direction opposite to their flight. The girls caught their breaths and
held on with both hands.

In half a minute, it seemed, Dan had brought his car up till it was
nosing the rear of Burton Poole’s automobile. Wiley Moyle uttered a
startled cry:

“What you going to do, Dan? Jump her?”




                              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.




                              CHAPTER XXI

                          THE FIRST TEN HOURS


This road race was much different from the usual test of speed on the
open highway. There were no guards lines, or men with flags at cross
roads to warn the unwary drivers of horses, or pedestrians. The cars in
this endurance run had to take all the chances, and suffer the delays
usual to an automobile run in the suburban districts.

The Speedwells in their forty-eight were less than five miles out of
Compton when they passed forty-seven. On the edge of Pachusett, half a
mile farther on, they found forty-six in the ditch! A big load of hay
was overturned across the road, and the hay wagon had lost a wheel.

How this wreck had occurred the Speedwells did not stop to ask. There
was a crowd of a couple of hundred persons around the scene of the
wreck, and it was plain that neither the automobilists nor the farmers
needed any help.

There had been frost enough the night before to make the fields hard,
and this was a cloudy day. Dan made up his mind instantly to go around
the obstruction. He and Billy got out and removed a section of the
roadside fence and steered their drab car out into a turnip field.

Number forty-nine was then in view; but the Speedwells got away quickly
and ran through Pachusett as fast as they dared. Two stern-looking
constables, with big tin stars on the breasts of their coats, held their
Waterbury watches on number forty-eight as it sung along Main Street;
but they evidently could not figure out just how fast the boys were
going.

It had not rained for some time, and the roads were very dusty in
places. Where the roadway was lightly built the autos ahead of the
Speedwells had already cut deeply into the surface. It was soon hard
traveling, and the dust and sand sifted over them, and over the car,
until they looked like millers.

“This is why the faster we get ahead this first day, and the more cars
we put behind us, the better off we will be for the rest of the run,”
said Dan.

“I guess so! Lettie Parker hit it right the day we went to Karnac Lake.
The best place in a run of this kind is right up ahead,” agreed Billy.

According to the road map there was a splendid piece of macadamized
highway between Bannister and City Ford, and it was thirty-eight miles
long. It was a piece of road greatly favored by automobilists, and it
was always well traveled. But this run had been so well advertised that
ordinary motor car drivers out for pleasure on this stretch of road
would give the right of way to the racing cars.

It was a wide road and almost level. There was not a bridge or a
railroad crossing for the entire thirty-eight miles. When the Speedwells
struck the head of this piece of highway, Dan slipped out of the
chauffeur’s seat, and allowed his brother to get under the wheel.

Billy was eager to feel the throb and jump of the mechanism under his
hand. They had stopped a few moments before, too, tried certain bolts,
filled the gasoline tank, and “watered her.” Everything seemed as taut
as when they rolled out of the Compton Motordrome.

“Now, boy, go to it!” his brother said. “Show them what you can do.”

And Billy was not backward in doing this. He had an ambition to be a
fast driver and all the conditions were in his favor. Number forty-eight
began to travel immediately, and soon he had brought her up to such
speed that—as Dan yelled in his ear—the telegraph poles beside the road
looked like a picket fence!

They had passed number forty-five before this, and now, in quick
succession they overtook forty-four, thirty-nine and seventeen—the
latter having been held back by some slight breakage. But this was too
early in the game to be sure that they had passed these cars for good!

Billy, however, gave his dust to several other cars in the race before
they traversed that thirty-eight miles of beautiful, hard road. And
their time was forty-three minutes!

“Good boy!” cried Dan, as they slowed down to a twelve-mile speed as
they struck the head of Market Street in City Ford. “We have run a
hundred and five miles and our time is three hours and ten minutes.”

“Why, at this rate,” cried Billy, “we’ll be able to get beyond the Holly
Tree Inn to-night. Don’t you think so?”

“I have my doubts about it,” said Dan. “There is no other piece of road
like that we’ve just come over. There’ll be little racing for the rest
of the day, but just steady plugging along. And we’ve got to eat, old
man!”

“Let me stick to the wheel while you take a bite, Dan,” begged the
younger boy, “and then I’ll eat. I wonder how far some of the head cars
will get to-day? Where’s Mr. Briggs’ car?”

“Haven’t seen it yet. We haven’t passed that maroon baby, you may very
well believe!”

“And Mr. Darringford’s car?” queried Billy.

“Why, he’s behind. Didn’t you notice? His number is fifty-three.”

“And number seven?” said Billy. “That’s the car I want to give the dust
of the road.”

“You’ll wait a bit for that,” said his brother. “Chance and Burton
started too far in advance for us to think of passing them yet.”

“You never can tell,” Billy observed, shaking his head. “Maybe they’ll
break down.”

“I hope not,” returned Dan, quickly. “If we beat them I want them to
have the best chance possible.”

“Say! I’d like to show ’em up right around Greenbaugh,” said Billy,
quickly. “You know, Chance went to Greenbaugh Seminary one year—before
his brother came to the Darringford shops.”

“Well?”

“Chance has been blowing around that the Greenbaugh Seminary fellows
will give him an ovation when he goes through the town. Of course, he’ll
want to be clear ahead of most of the crowd, so as to show ’em what a
great driver he is. I don’t care how far ahead he is of the other cars,
but when he parades down Greenbaugh’s High Street, I want him to be
taking the dust of number forty-eight,” concluded Billy with energy.

“My! but you’re right vicious!” chuckled Dan, as they rumbled out upon
the river bridge and left City Ford behind them.

Our heroes climbed hills and descended short, sharp runs; they passed
through forest and field; the “slow down” signs faced them frequently
and Billy chafed as they ran through the hamlets at what he considered a
snail’s pace.

At some places crowds had gathered to watch the contestants pass. Then
again other automobiles joined in the procession and kept up with some
of the entries for miles. These incidents retarded speed, if anything.
The road race was much different from the track trials Dan and Billy had
seen.

In some small towns there was little order as the automobiles came
through so close together. The constables were more interested in seeing
that the motorists did not exceed the speed limit than in keeping the
streets clear. Reckless boys would run back and forth across the
roadway. It was perilous even to travel at the legal rate.

The Speedwells had passed several more cars. At one big, well-lighted
roadhouse there were a dozen of the contestants in the race, having put
their cars under the sheds for the night. Mr. Briggs’ big Postlethwaite
was just being backed into a stall as the Speedwells shot by. Henri
waved his hand to Dan and called good luck after them. It was some
satisfaction to the boys to know that they had gotten the best of at
least twenty of the other cars. They had then won on them from half an
hour to two hours in time.

They had only an hour of their own time remaining, however, and the
Holly Tree Inn at Farmingdale was still forty miles away. The roads were
reported only fair. But comparatively few cars had been over them and
they would not be so badly cut up as were many which lay behind.

And within that forty miles the map showed but two hamlets where it
would be necessary to slow down. Both were liberal towns—twelve miles an
hour was the limit.

The Breton-Melville car was running smoothly. Not an hour before they
had oiled up and groomed her nicely. There was a possibility of making
the Holly Tree within the time stipulated.

“And if we don’t, we’ll have to stop at Sharpe’s Crossroads to register
and stay for the night,” said Billy, nervously. “That’s the ticket,
isn’t it, Dan?”

“That is the result of failure,” smiled his brother. “_But we’re not
going to fail!_”

They had interchanged these remarks at a spot where they had to run
slowly. Once free again Dan let the car out with a suddenness that made
the machine leap like a horse under the spur. They shot along the
country road, overhung with trees which made the darkness deeper, their
head-lamps parting the gloom before them, and displaying objects with
clearness. The Speedwells had fitted their car with good lamps; but no
headlight will reveal an obstruction in the road far enough in advance
for a car to be brought to a stop, if it is running at top speed.

They were taking chances, that was a fact. Dan Speedwell was not usually
reckless; but he had a double incentive in thus “running on his luck.”
Not alone did he desire to make the Holly Tree Inn within the ten-hour
limit; but car number seven had not yet been passed!

Burton Poole’s auto was still ahead. Dan believed that Chance Avery
would drive Poole’s car at top speed this first day. And Billy himself
longed to beat car number seven no more than Dan did, although the
latter said less about it.

When the clock, screwed under the wind shield, showed twenty minutes
after nine they had traveled seventeen of the forty miles. And right
ahead was the second village. For three miles and more they would have
to reduce speed—or, were supposed to.

But it is a nice problem to run one of these racing cars at a twelve
mile an hour gait!

When number forty-eight came to the head of Main Street, the lights
revealed a straggling row of houses on either side, a general store, or
two, a postoffice, and a clear street. If Dan reduced speed at all,
Billy never noticed it!

They roared through the little town like a limited express going by a
flag station. There may have been constables in that town; but they were
not on hand. At least, Dan and Billy Speedwell never saw them as they
shot along the main thoroughfare and out into the country on the other
side.

Faster and faster the machine seemed to fly. When they took the curves
Billy threw his weight upon the other side, leaning far off from the
step and doing his best to keep the tires on the ground.

They flashed past the little collection of houses as Sharpe’s
Crossroads. The clock pointed to twenty minutes to ten. It was nine
miles to the Farmingdale Inn.

The car took a curve and the wheels skidded; but Dan did not reduce
speed. He got back into the center of the road before they reached a
covered bridge over the river.

The bridge was well lighted. Good fortune in that!

As the car rushed down to the covered way Billy suddenly uttered a
frightened yell. There was a car stalled right in the path!

The covered bridge was divided by a partition into two driveways. The
stalled machine was in the right-hand track—the way the Speedwells
should take according to all rules of the road. Its rear lamp was shut
off and the Breton-Melville would have crashed into it had not the
bridge lights revealed the danger.

And even then it is doubtful if Dan could have braked in time. Indeed,
he did not try to. He swerved to the left and saw that that side of the
bridge was clear.

The drab car shot across the bridge at terrific speed. The boys could
not halt to see what was the matter with the stalled auto. A few moments
only did they have to run into Farmingdale. And they would have to
reduce speed on the outskirts of the town.

For several miles they had traveled more than a mile a minute!

The day’s race was done, however; the lights of the Holly Tree Inn were
in sight. They rolled into the yard, where several autos were already
standing, with two minutes to spare. It was twelve minutes to ten.

But as Dan and Billy threw aside their coats and got out to stretch
their legs, the younger boy said:

“What car do you suppose that was in the bridge, Dannie?”

“Give it up. Didn’t see any number on it.”

“I know. And Mr. Briggs’ car is behind us—we passed it.”

“Sure,” declared Dan, in surprise.

“Well, that car in the bridgeway was a maroon auto; I didn’t know there
was more than one maroon car in the race; did you?” queried Billy,
seriously.




                              CHAPTER XXII

                             UNDERHAND WORK


Before Dan Speedwell could let this statement of his brother’s fairly
penetrate his mind the younger lad said, sharply:

“And here’s another!”

“Another what, Billy?” asked Dan. “Not another maroon auto?”

“Bosh! no! But another car, just the same, that we’re interested in.”

“Number seven!” cried Dan, seeing Burton Poole’s car standing under the
inn shed.

“Chance is here, all right, all right!” exclaimed Billy. “We’ve caught
up to them.”

“It doesn’t seem possible,” murmured Dan.

“Golly! won’t Chance be sore!”

“They must have met with an accident,” the older Speedwell declared.

“We’ve made as good a run as anybody, I bet,” said Billy, joyfully.

“We don’t know that,” remarked Dan, shaking his head.

“Come on in! Let’s see what they’ve got to say about it.”

“Now Billy,” urged Dan, stopping his younger brother, and speaking
seriously. “Don’t you stir up a rumpus. If Chance Avery turns up, you
let him alone. No heckling, mind!”

“Aw, well——”

“If we are running as good as he is we can afford to keep still about
it,” said Dan, wisely. “And if we’re not——”

“Pshaw!”

“If we’re not,” continued Dan, smiling, “he’ll know it fast enough.
Let’s not wrangle with him. I want to beat him as badly as you do—and I
hope we’ll beat him a plenty; but there’s no use crowing over him——”

“Hullo!” exclaimed a voice behind them, and the brothers turned swiftly
to see Burton Poole arm in arm with Chance himself. By the look on
Avery’s face Dan feared that the fellow had heard at least a part of
what had been said.

“How under the sun did you get here, Speedwell?” demanded Poole, in vast
surprise. “Is that a flying machine you’ve got? I declare, you have
beaten some of the best cars in the race!”

“We don’t know that they are beaten yet—except one,” said Dan, quickly.
“That one’s in the ditch.”

“But I don’t see how you could have got so far——”

“But you got here,” snapped Billy. “I don’t see why you should expect to
run so much better than we do.”

“Well, my car is a much better auto,” said Poole, with conviction; “and
we had a daylight run. What time did you get away? Almost noon, wasn’t
it?”

“Ten minutes to twelve,” said Dan.

Poole and Chance looked at each other quickly, and the former said:

“I told you you were wrong, Chance. They got here on time.”

“And with two minutes to spare,” said Billy, tartly. “Oh, I saw the man
taking our time on the inn steps as we came in. We’d have heard about it
before now if we had run over the schedule.”

Chance growled something in Burton’s ear and they walked away.

“Ha!” ejaculated Billy. “They both thought it would be a walk-over for
them. They never expected to see us during the run.”

“Well, they’ve seen us now. Let’s get to work, Billy-boy. We’ve got to
overhaul this car before we sleep.”

“If you say so, Dan,” said Billy, yawning wearily.

“It’s best. We want to get away bright and early—by seven o’clock at
least. No running after dark again for us. The cars that started late
had that handicap.”

“I know,” admitted Billy.

“Now, in the morning, those cars that we have passed, and that have put
up short of this place, will be out on the road in good season. We want
to keep ahead of those we have already passed.”

“And show some of those that are still ahead of us, our dust, too!”
interposed Billy.

“Exactly. Therefore,” concluded his brother, “let’s put our car in
proper shape to-night.”

And they did that, although it took them until nearly one o’clock in the
morning. But then Dan and Billy had the satisfaction of knowing that
their car was again in as good order as it was when it rolled out of the
motordrome at Compton the previous noon.

They were weary enough when they went to bed. All the other contestants
who had put up at the inn were long since asleep; but some of them would
be obliged to spend an hour or two in the morning overhauling and
grooming their cars.

Dan and Billy were eating an early breakfast—the clock stood at
6:15—when Burton Poole came into the dining room, yawning.

“And here’s two more of ’em!” Poole cried. “My! but I didn’t want to get
up at all. Chance has been out an hour or more.”

“Your car ready?” asked Billy, with his mouth full.

“Yep. You know, we got in at three o’clock and had plenty of time.”

“Then you’ll be getting under way soon?” suggested Dan.

“We’ll give you a rub on the road, I reckon,” said Burton, lazily. “See
what Chance says about it. Oh! here he is.”

Avery came in and, as usual, scowled at Dan and Billy.

“We want to start when the Speedwells do, don’t we, Chance?” asked
Burton. “I’d like to see how that old car of theirs runs.”

“We’ll start when we’re ready,” growled Chance. “I don’t want to know
anything about the Speedwell’s car—or when they start.”

“Well!” began Billy, but Dan reached over and put a hand on his arm.

“Drop it, youngster!” he commanded.

Billy conquered his anger with an effort, and the brothers were very
soon done. They had their gasoline to get and they had already taken the
cans around to the nearest supply depot. They proposed to pick them up
after leaving the hotel.

Dan reported their time after running the car out of the stable yard.
Chance and Burton could easily have been ready, but it was evident that
the former deliberately delayed their start until after the Speedwells
should get under way.

The Breton-Melville car had sufficient gasoline in her tank to run
forty or fifty miles; so they stopped at the fuel station only long
enough to strap on the extra cans. It was exactly seven when the car
left the Holly Tree Inn, and they could run until five in the
afternoon—practically ten hours of daylight.

It was a warm morning, and there was a fog in the valleys. The frost of
overnight had turned to patches of black damp upon the ploughed fields.
The roads were just moist enough to be treacherous.

There was no car ahead of number forty-eight within sight, and she
steamed away from Farmingdale in fine shape. Dan did not try to get any
particular speed out of her. Beyond Farmingdale the roads were rather
bad for some miles and there were many turns and twists in the way. He
feared to travel fast, for the wheels of the drab car could easily skid,
and bring them to grief.

Nevertheless, they beat out fifty-three miles in the first two hours.
Then they had to stop to feed her gasoline, and while Billy attended to
this duty Dan looked her over a little.

“See who’s coming!” exclaimed Billy, looking back as he tipped the
contents of the can into the tank.

“I see them. Chance has waked up. He’s going to pass us, I reckon, and
show us some fancy running.”

“Oh I don’t know,” grunted Billy. “They’re slowing down.”

“Huh!” said Dan. “All right there?”

“Yep.”

“Open her up a little more and we’ll see what we can do ourselves.”

He cranked up and then got into the car. Billy was already there. The
car started slowly. Then she stopped!

“What’s the matter now?” gasped Billy.

They heard the exhaust of number seven behind them. Billy leaped out on
one side; Dan on the other. They could find nothing the matter, but it
was a fact that the Breton-Melville had stopped dead.

Dan cranked up again and they were getting in when the car run by Chance
Avery and Burton Poole passed them slowly. The former was at the wheel;
the Speedwells could see his wide grin as he turned his begoggled face
toward them.

“Want a tow?” shouted Burton.

Dan waved his hand. He knew that there wasn’t an ounce of meanness in
Burton Poole.

“Let’s show those fellow——” began Billy and then—to their
amazement—their engine stopped again.

“Well, isn’t that the limit?” cried the younger Speedwell. “She never
acted so before.”

“That’s no reason why she shouldn’t begin,” said Dan, grimly. “We’ve
been lucky heretofore.”

“But what’s the matter with her?”

“If I knew I’d tell you,” returned Dan, and went to cranking again.

But this time the engine wouldn’t start at all. It was dead.

“Do you suppose anybody got at this machine while we were away from it?”
cried Billy.

“No. There were watchmen at the stables. I saw to that.”

“Chance was up and out mighty early,” said the unconvinced Billy.

“If he’d done anything to the mechanism it would have shown up before
now,” declared Dan.

But that there was something wrong there could be no doubt. They were
stalled for fifteen minutes, and then one of the other racing cars went
by.

“Get a horse!” the chauffeur yelled at them.

Billy was getting anxious. But that would not help them. For some reason
the engine would not work. They were stalled between towns and—as far as
the Speedwell brothers could see—there was something the matter with
their car that they could not correct.

“We might as well kiss our show for the gold cup ‘good-by’!” wailed
Billy. “And that Chance Avery will have the laugh on us. Did you see him
grin as he sailed by?”

Dan was thoughtful. He began to pay more attention to his brother’s
suspicion of Avery. The fellow did go by them as though he had expected
the breakdown and knew it would be a fatal one!

And Chance had held back in starting. It seemed that he wanted to be
behind the Speedwells and so overtake and enjoy their discomfiture. Dan
was not sure but that Billy was right.

What could Chance have done to the machine? Nothing! Dan was positive of
that. Not alone were there watchmen in the stableyard, but the young
fellow knew from his own examination that no part of the mechanism of
the car had been tampered with.

Yet Chance——

Dan suddenly turned on his heel and went to the gasoline tank. He opened
it; he looked in, he dipped in a stick and smelled of it. Then he opened
an auxiliary tank faucet, and let the fluid run upon the ground.

_It was water mixed with gasoline!_

Billy ran to him when he heard his cry of rage.

“What is it, Dan?” he asked, amazed by the look in his brother’s
countenance.

Dan was not often in a rage. When he was really angry it was well to
“stand from under,” as Billy expressed it.

And just now Dan was almost beside himself with sudden passion. He shut
off the faucet and sprang to the cans strapped on the running board of
the car. One after the other he opened. All water!

“The scoundrel! The blackguard!” cried Dan. “If I had him here I’d make
him drink the stuff. Oh, the rascal!”

Billy very quickly was made aware of the catastrophe. They were ten
miles from any gasoline supply station, without an ounce of the fluid,
and there was not a farmhouse, even, in sight. They could neither
telephone for a new supply, nor hire a wagon to bring it to them.

“It will take till noon to get any—noon at the earliest,” groaned Billy.
“Dan, we’ve lost all chance of winning Mr. Briggs’ trophy.”




                             CHAPTER XXIII

                        QUEER ACTIONS OF NO. 41


Dan stood silently, his teeth on his lower lip, his face heavy with
thought. Billy continued:

“How ever did Chance do it?”

“That’s where he went when he got up so early this morning at the inn.
He went to the gasoline station, bribed somebody there, and got the cans
filled with water. One thing is sure, we’ll make whoever helped him
suffer for it.”

“But what good will that do?” demanded Billy, “when we have lost the
race?”

“We haven’t lost the race!” snapped his brother.

“We’re stalled here, I tell you!” cried Billy, waving his arms
excitedly.

“I know it.”

“What are you going to do for power? How you going to get to the next
station—fly? You say the word and I’ll run all the way to the nearest
town and buy the gasoline, and bring it back in a wagon. But it will
take oceans of time.”

“I know it,” gritted Dan. “We’ve got to have it quicker than
that—listen!”

“Another car coming. Another set of joshers,” complained Billy, who did
not like being made a target for fun.

The car they heard was coming at full speed. Dan hesitated, and then
stepped around the drab car and looked up the road. The running
automobile appeared.

“Hooray!” yelled Billy. “It’s Mr. Briggs’ car. He’ll help us.”

The huge “forty-one” was plain upon the hood of the automobile. As it
came on, however, the chauffeur showed no intention of reducing speed.

This was not a bad bit of road where the Speedwell boys were stalled.
Car forty-one was evidently striving to make up some of the miles it had
lost on the previous day. It came on like the wind!

Dan and Billy both waved their hands. The car did not swerve, nor did
the chauffeur pay them the compliment of pulling down in the least.

The huge Postlethwaite swept on, was guided around the stalled car with
skill, and rushed past and on around the next curve in the road—and all
so quickly that the boys were speechless for a moment with surprise.

“Did you ever?” finally gasped Billy.

“Henri never even winked at us,” growled Dan.

“And if he had, you wouldn’t have seen that wink,” observed his brother,
with a nervous gasp. “Say! that was mean!”

“Of course, they didn’t have to stop.”

“No. But it wouldn’t have hurt Mr. Briggs to pull down for a moment.”

“He never even looked at us.”

“No. He sat in there beside Henri, ready to help him take the curves. I
never thought he’d be so mean,” complained Billy.

“Here’s another!” exclaimed his brother.

They turned to see a second automobile come around the bend in the road.
It was not going so fast. It was numbered thirty-seven.

Before it reached the Speedwells it slowed down and the man at the wheel
demanded:

“Did you see that maroon car just now?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Dan and Billy together.

“It was number forty-one, wasn’t it?” demanded the chauffeur of
thirty-seven, and he seemed very angry.

“Yes.”

“Well, we’re going to report that car. It ought to be barred out of the
race,” sputtered the man.

“What’s that?” gasped Dan, while Billy looked, open-mouthed, at the
angry automobilist.

“I tell you, it ought to be barred out,” cried the stranger, and his
companion agreed with a vigorous nod. “They come pretty near taking a
wheel off of us. Look at that scratch along the side of our car; will
you?”

“I see it,” admitted Dan, vastly puzzled.

“That maroon car did it,” cried the man. “It ought to be——”

“But say!” blurted out Billy. “That was Mr. Briggs’ car—Mr. Briggs who
started this endurance test—the man who offers the gold cup!”

“Mr. Raleigh Briggs!” cried the angry man.

“That’s the number of his car—forty-one,” Dan interposed, quickly.

“Well, he ought to be spoken to,” said the man, more mildly. “We were
giving him the right of the road as fast as possible; I never saw a man
drive so recklessly in all my life!”

The angry automobilist was driving on, when Dan said:

“By the way, can you let us have a gallon of juice? We are stalled——”

“Haven’t any to spare!” snapped the man, as he threw on his speed.

“Ha!” ejaculated Billy. “I wish Mr. Briggs had tipped him into the
ditch!”

“If it was Mr. Briggs,” muttered Dan, but his brother did not hear him.

“What’ll we do?” queried Billy again. “You don’t mean to stay here and
beg of every car you see, do you? They’ll all turn us down.”

“All these cars aren’t driven by such fellows,” growled Dan.

“But say! When Mr. Briggs himself would act so mean——”

“Here’s another!” cried Dan, and this time he leaped into the very
center of the road, determined to make the coming car slow down, at
least.

When it shot into sight Billy gave a sudden cheer.

“Number fifty-three! Oh, Dannie! that’s Mr. Robert!”

But at that word his brother stepped quickly out of the way. He could
not hold up Darringford, who had already been so kind to them. But the
young proprietor of the Darringford Machine Shops began to slow down as
soon as he saw that the drab car was in trouble.

“What’s the matter, boys?” he shouted, craning his head out of the car
to see them.

“Oh, Mr. Robert!” cried Billy, boldly. “Can you lend us a gallon of
gasoline?”

“What! gone stale between towns?” laughed the young man. “I am surprised
at you, boys.”

“It was not our fault, I assure you,” said Dan, quietly. “Somebody
played a trick on us. They filled our cans at Farmingdale with water
instead of gasoline.”

“Why! that’s a despicable trick,” declared Mr. Robert, as Dan opened one
of the cans and poured the water into the road.

“It has lost us nearly an hour already,” said Billy.

“It shall lose you no more time. Give me that empty can,” said Mr.
Robert, quickly. “Take one of our full ones. That’s right. Now, come on,
boys, and show me what your Breton-Melville can do!” and, the exchange
being made, he waved to his chauffeur to go on again.

And the Speedwells were not far behind him. They filled their tank after
draining out the water. They had to start slowly, and it took them
nearly an hour to run the next ten miles. Then they reached a gasoline
station and were very sure that the right fluid was run into their cans.

The Breton-Melville worked like a charmed car after that one accident.
On the long grade which they struck about eleven o’clock—the climb over
the mountain range—she acted perfectly. But eighteen miles an hour was
her best speed going up.

At the summit (they reached the Tip Top House at three) the boys halted
to overhaul their gear and oil up. They hoped to make Greenbaugh, in the
valley, before the end of their ten mile run; but they were eighty-seven
miles away. They had traveled already a hundred and forty-two miles from
the Holly Tree Inn. The trick Chance Avery had played them certainly had
set them back in this day’s running a good many miles!

But several of the early cars to start—the small numbers—had been passed
by the Speedwells; as they figured it coming up the mountain there were
only fifteen cars ahead of them, including number seven.

“And Mr. Briggs’ car,” added Billy. “She must be tearing down the
mountain already. Hey!” he called to one of the men working around the
stables, “has number forty-one passed on? Of course it has! How long
ago?”

“Number forty-one?” repeated the man, referring to a list of the cars he
carried in his pocket. “No, sir. She ain’t showed up yet.”

“Why, she passed us miles back!” cried Billy, and Dan looked up from his
work in surprise, too.

“No. She hasn’t come,” said the man, with confidence.

“Why—why—what does it mean?” gasped the younger Speedwell. “It can’t be
possible that we passed Mr. Briggs anywhere, and missed him.”

“He must be ahead of us,” agreed Dan.

“I know my list is right,” said the man. “I been noting every car that’s
in the race. You see how I’ve put a star against those that have got by.
Number forty-one ain’t one of ’em.”

“A big maroon car—a Postlethwaite,” suggested Dan.

“No, sir. Ain’t no maroon car gone through. I’m mighty sure of that!”

“Well, what do you know about that?” murmured Billy, staring at his
brother. “Think that was a delusion back there on the road? Maybe we
didn’t see Mr. Briggs’ car, either?”

“Maybe we didn’t,” replied Dan, gravely. “But I guess that man in
thirty-seven wouldn’t agree that it was a delusion that scratched up his
panels.”

“Whew! I should say not.”

At that moment the hostler with the checked list broke in on their
conversation.

“How far did you come to-day?” he asked.

“Hundred and forty miles,” grunted Billy. He wasn’t proud of their
speed.

“Then you slept at Farmingdale?”

“Yep.”

“Hear about the robbery of the postoffice there before you started?”

“No!” cried Billy. “Last night?”

“Yes. Cleaned it out. Three or four thousand dollars’ worth of stamps,
registered mail, and thirteen hundred dollars in cash. Nice little haul
for some band of robbers,” said the hostler.

He went away and Dan and Billy stared at each other for a moment. Billy
put his thoughts in words first:

“The maroon car stood in that bridge over the Farmingdale River last
night, when we came through. No honest car would have hidden there.”

“Where is Mr. Briggs and the real forty-one car?” demanded Dan.

“Oh, Dan! that couldn’t have been him who drove by us so fast this
morning.”

“And scratched number thirty-seven, too,” said Dan.

“It’s the other maroon car,” declared Billy, excitedly. “It’s the bank
robbers.”

“But where is Mr. Briggs?” demanded his brother, again.

“Goodness only knows. Those thieves are onto the fact that their car is
the mate to Mr. Briggs’ auto. It’s plain they are using that fact to
hide their tracks.”

“And meanwhile,” repeated Dan, for the third time, “what has happened to
Mr. Briggs?”

“I give it up!”

“I’m going to find out,” declared Dan. “Here! you ’tend to this. I want
to telephone.”

But when he ran in to the hotel office he found one of the racing
timekeepers there and from him he learned that Mr. Briggs’ car was
reported about fifty miles back on the road. It had suffered a
breakdown.

“Are you sure it’s his car?” demanded Dan. “I tell you that there is
another maroon car on the road.”

“Not in the list of racers,” said the timekeeper.

“No, sir. But are you sure it is Mr. Briggs that has broken down?”

“I just spoke to him over the telephone. I know him personally. I know
his voice.”

“Then there can be no mistake. But I believe that there is another
maroon car running under Mr. Briggs’ number,” and Dan explained briefly
what he knew about the car belonging to, or used by, the men who had
robbed Mr. Sudds and the Farmers’ Bank.

“This robbery of the postoffice at Farmingdale last night,” continued
Dan Speedwell, “looks very much like the work of the same crowd, too.
Besides, my brother and I are quite sure that these men passed us on the
road this morning. It was not Mr. Briggs in that maroon car, that is
sure. He would have stopped and spoken to us when he saw that we were
stalled.”

“I’ll send your information up and down the line,” promised the
timekeeper. “But there certainly has been no maroon car past here—in
either direction—to-day, or yesterday.”

When Dan got back to the car, Billy already had her cranked up. They ran
swiftly out into the highway, reached the down grade, shut off power,
and began to coast. For some ten or fifteen miles the map showed that
the road into the valley was very crooked; they dared not put much power
to their car. And sometimes when she merely coasted, the speedometer
showed a forty-five and fifty mile an hour pace!

Eighty-seven miles in an hour and three-quarters—that was the work cut
out for them. Half of it was down grade, at least; but it was only when
they were within twenty miles of the foot of the mountain that the
Speedwells were able to let her out and show just what the
Breton-Melville car could do on a gentle slope, and on a good road.

They took that stretch of twenty miles in seventeen minutes!

At the end of that sharp run Billy counted on his fingers and declared
that there were but eight cars ahead of them.

It was four o’clock when they drove through New Hapsburg at a twelve
mile an hour rate. Suddenly they came upon a car around which there was
quite a crowd. It was one of the contesting machines, Dan and Billy
knew, and as they shut off their engine they heard several wrangling
voices in the crowd.

“I tell ye I don’t care anything about no race!” cried one harsh voice.
“You’re under arrest for exceeding the speed limit through the streets
of this here city.”

“Another Josiah Somes!” chuckled Billy. “What car is it that’s pinched?”

“My goodness, that’s Burton Poole standing up there and waving his
pocketbook,” cried Dan.

“Oh, glory!” shouted Billy. “It’s number seven.”

Then they saw Chance Avery. His face was red, and he was too angry for
words. He saw the Breton-Melville car sliding past and he undoubtedly
had heard Billy’s joyous exclamation. If looks could burst a tire, Dan
and Billy would have had a bad blow-out right there!

“It won’t hold them long,” said Dan, as their car pulled past the crowd.
“Burton will pay the fine and they’ll come after us. Their time isn’t
up, it’s likely, before half-past five. They will reach Greenbaugh if we
do.”

“And we’re going to reach it,” acclaimed Billy, cheerfully. “Here’s the
town line, Dannie. Let her go!”




                              CHAPTER XXIV

                            AN OBSTACLE RACE


They reached the station on High street, Greenbaugh, with a few minutes
to spare. There were four cars already standing at the Carpenter House,
the best hotel in the place. It was too expensive an inn for the
Speedwell boys, however, and they drove around to another hostelry on a
side street.

Besides, the Carpenter House veranda, and the yard, and the street in
front of the hotel, were full of shouting, chaffing students from the
seminary. Whether Chance Avery was so very popular with his former
fellow students, or not, there was a great number interested in the
motor car race.

“We want to keep away from them. Then we’ll be sure to escape trouble. I
don’t want to talk with Chance just now,” said Dan Speedwell. “For I’m
sore and I might say something I’d be sorry for later.”

“He played us as mean a trick as ever was played,” declared Billy.

“He did indeed. But we have caught up with him again. He won’t get past
the Carpenter House to-night.”

Which was a fact, for after Dan and Billy had cleaned up their car and
had put their next day’s supply of gasoline under lock and key this
time, to be sure of it, they went out on High street and saw Chance and
Burton Poole with a crowd of college fellows, going to one of the
students’ boarding houses for supper.

The Speedwells ate their own supper, and then walked about the town
quietly. They learned that forty of the racing cars had reached
Greenbaugh during the evening. The streets were crowded with
sight-seers. Late in the evening the seminary boys made a demonstration.

They had fireworks on the campus and then paraded the streets in autos
and afoot, Burton Poole’s car in the lead with great placards on it.

Red fire and a noisy demonstration accompanied the parade; but the town
police kept good order. There was a big, six-seated car that belonged in
the town, and was hired by the seminary boys. This had a prominent place
in the parade, and the next morning, when Dan and Billy got out at
daybreak, they saw this machine, loaded with noisy but sleepy-looking
fellows, rolling down to the High street.

“They’ve made a night of it!” exclaimed Dan. “And I bet Chance and
Burton have been with them. They’ll feel just like running an auto
to-day—I don’t think!”

“All right. If they want to give themselves a handicap,” returned Billy,
“I won’t complain.”

“Let’s hurry and get away. I don’t want to see Chance Avery to-day if I
can help it.”

“You mean to keep ahead of him, then?” chuckled Billy.

“I’d like to.”

But when they ran their car out to the front of the Carpenter House,
several of the contestants had already gotten under way, and among them
was Burton Poole’s machine. The big automobile crowded with students
accompanied it out of town. Number seven had nearly half an hour’s start
of the Speedwells’ car.

But the Breton-Melville ran very easily. No cars passed the boys for the
first five miles. Then they saw a cloud of dust ahead and realized that
they were catching up with the students—and probably Poole’s car.

The six-seated observation car could not run very fast, and it was so
broad and heavy that it occupied more than a fair share of the road. Dan
and Billy could not see beyond this elephantine car, and did not know
how near number seven was.

The road was good and their motor had been running very nicely. As the
big car, with its cheering crowd, continued to fill the road, Dan was
obliged to pull down a little.

“Hoot again,” said Billy. “We want to get by. If Chance and Burton want
to play horse along the way, let them. We’re out for the gold cup.”

At that moment an auto came up behind them and slid by swiftly. It was
number twelve. When this car came up with the big omnibus, one of the
students on the back seat yelled something to the man managing the car,
and it swerved out just enough to let number twelve by.

Dan tried to follow. But before he could get the nose of number
forty-eight into the opening, the omnibus swung back into the middle of
the road again. The highway was narrow. There was no sidewalk on either
hand. It was a typical country road and on either hand was a steep bank
down to a barbed wire fence. To go into the ditch would finish any car!

“Hey there!” yelled Billy, standing up. “Let us by. Don’t hog the road,
fellows.”

“Who are you, sonny?” returned one of the smart boys on the back seat.

“Let ’em sit up and beg proper,” suggested another of the seminary
youths.

“Take your turn, brother,” advised another of the students. “We’ve got
the road now and we mean to keep it.”

“Be still, Billy,” advised Dan, quickly. “They can hold us back but a
little way. The road widens soon!”

But Dan was not a good prophet that time. The students evidently
intended to hold back Chance Avery’s rival at any cost. Within five
minutes, after guying the Speedwells unmercifully, and holding them down
to a snail’s pace, the chauffeur of the heavy car suddenly brought it
square across the road, backed a little, and then halted. His car was an
effectual barrier to all traffic, going in either direction!

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Some-thing’s-bust-ed!” yelled the gang in chorus.

Dan and Billy then got a sight of the road ahead. It was empty. Chance
was perhaps ten miles ahead, or more. And the Speedwells were stalled.
The driver of the students’ car could claim that he could not move his
auto. There were no policemen about. The following contestants might be
held here for an hour, or more.

Dan and Billy were helpless. And the students were having a fine time at
their expense. Dan had to fairly threaten his brother to keep Billy
silent; to enter into a wordy discussion with the fellows would only
have pleased the scamps too well. They were primed to make sport of the
Riverdale boys and undoubtedly would have handled them roughly had Dan
allowed Billy to loosen his tongue.

For ten minutes the big car stood there, the chauffeur making believe
fumble with the mechanism. Then suddenly there sounded a warning
automobile horn from the direction of Greenbaugh. A car, in a cloud of
dust, was dashing over the road toward them.

“Now, by jings!” exclaimed Billy, “they’ll have to do something.”

“No reason why they shouldn’t hold up the whole string of contestants
for a while,” muttered Dan. “Wait.”

But this car did not seem to be one of the racers. At least, it had no
placard on it. Suddenly Billy exclaimed:

“Isn’t that Mr. Briggs’ car? He’s caught up with us!”

“It’s not numbered,” objected Dan.

“I don’t care! It’s maroon—and a big car——”

Meanwhile the students on the omnibus did nothing toward pulling out.
The maroon car reduced speed abruptly. There were three men in it—a
small one at the wheel and two others in the tonneau. All were coated
and masked with dust goggles.

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded one of the men in the tonneau,
standing up.

Billy caught Dan by the hand, and whispered:

“It’s him!”

Dan needed no explanation. He knew what his brother meant at once. This
was the leader of the trio of bank robbers—the motor thieves. Billy knew
the fellow’s voice.

A chorus of contradictory explanations were shouted by the seminary
boys. It was plain that they proposed to hold up this car, too, rather
than let the Speedwells by.

“You can’t move your car, eh?” snapped the man in the maroon auto.

He sprang out fearlessly and strode to the side of the huge machine. As
he started to climb up to the front seat one of the fellows tried to
push him back.

That particular seminary student was instantly treated to the surprise
of his life. The man reached out, seized the boy’s collar, and ripped
him from his hold on the car. He pitched him bodily, with one fling,
into the ditch beside the road.

He then vaulted into the chauffeur’s seat, seized the lever, and started
the machine. The engine was still running. Instead of starting it ahead,
the man deliberately backed the car into the ditch on the other side of
the road, and leaped down, leaving it there with its forward wheels in
the air!

Half the students had tumbled off when the car bounced into the ditch.
The maroon machine was brought by the chauffeur past the disabled
omnibus, and the man who had wrecked it leaped into his own machine
again.

“Quick, Billy!” whispered Dan. “We’ll get after them.”

Their own car was ready. They ran right around the big machine, in the
wake of the maroon auto. The latter was speeding away along the narrow
road.

“We must catch them, Dan!” cried Billy, as number forty-eight began to
hum again.

“We will indeed,” agreed his brother. “It’s the robbers’ car—no doubt of
it. We must hang to them until we find an officer to make the arrest.
Whatever happens—whether we win the race for the golden cup, or not, we
must not let that maroon car escape this time!”




                              CHAPTER XXV

                          THE CAR AND THE CUP


The Breton-Melville car, driven by the Speedwell brothers, was not forty
seconds behind the big maroon automobile at the start. The latter was
perhaps five hundred yards ahead; but she never gained on the Speedwells
a yard during the run that followed.

Olin City was somewhere about a hundred and eighty miles from the spot
where the Greenbaugh Seminary boys had obstructed the road. The two
cars—the maroon and the drab—raced over the highways to Olin City in
just four hours.

Just before reaching Olin City the two flying autos passed a machine
that had suffered a blow-out. It was number seven. Chance and Burton
Poole were out of the car working as rapidly as they could to adjust a
new tire.

Billy had something else to think of, and he did not even yell at
Chance. The fact that they had passed number seven, after all Chance had
done to try and retard them, was a small matter now.

The three desperate criminals ahead must be apprehended. They came to
the Olin City line and the maroon car still kept on with but slightly
reduced speed. The first policeman they saw held up a warning hand to
them. Then he leaped into the middle of the road as Dan and Billy roared
down upon him.

“Get him aboard—quick, Dan!” advised the younger brother. “Then we’ll
see if we can’t overtake those scoundrels.”

Dan was already shutting down. The car had not quite stopped when the
police officer leaped aboard.

“Say, you boys! We’ll have to stop you if you can’t obey the law,”
declared the officer.

“How about that car ahead?” demanded Dan.

“They got away from me.”

“We can catch it for you, if you say so,” said Billy, grinning. “And it
will be a great catch, too. Those fellows, I believe, robbed the
postoffice at Farmingdale night before last.”

“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed the policeman.

“Indeed I do,” said Dan, earnestly. “At least, my brother and I are
positive that they are the men who robbed the Farmers’ Bank of Riverdale
and committed another robbery in that town.”

“The motor car thieves!” exclaimed the policeman. “You don’t mean it?”

“We do. We’re sure of it.”

“Wait! Let those two other men get aboard,” said the officer, beckoning
to two brother officers standing on the corner. When the men had hopped
into the tonneau, the first officer said:

“Now let her go. If you can catch that big car, do it. Never mind the
law—smash it to flinders!”

The maroon automobile had slowed down a good bit. The criminals were not
desirous of getting arrested for breaking the speed law. And when Dan
brought his car close up behind the maroon painted machine, and the
biggest policeman leaped into the thieves’ car, the latter believed they
were arrested merely for an infringement of the city ordinance.

“We will fix this up all right with the judge, officer,” said the leader
of the gang. “The court is sitting—yes?”

“I reckon so,” said the cop. “But we’ll run over to the chief’s office
first. I shouldn’t be surprised if _he’d_ like to see you.”

The three criminals exchanged glances. They might have shown fight there
on the public street, but Dan steered his machine around the maroon car
and headed it off. The chauffeur had to stop. The three officers each
seized their man and—the arrest was made!

It then became necessary for the boys to go to the office of the chief
of police, too. The delay was considerable, but after hearing the story
of the Speedwells the commander of the Olin City police force worked
quickly.

He called up the Riverdale Bank over the long distance ’phone and Mr.
Crawley and Mr. Baird went sponsor for the Speedwell brothers. They were
therefore allowed to depart, for the criminals would have to be
extradited from this state to the one in which the first crime had been
committed.

Burton Poole’s car—and others—had gotten ahead of the Speedwell boys by
this time and they had but an hour more to run that day. They whirled
out of Olin City, however, in a cloud of dust and made Breckenridge
Station, thirty-two miles on the road, in that hour.

When they registered with the timekeeper in Breckenridge they were seven
hundred and forty-nine miles over the course. There were two hundred and
fifty-nine miles between them and the Compton Motordrome.

“And the worst of the running yet to come,” said Dan. “How many cars did
he say were ahead of us?”

“Thirteen have gone on, having from fifteen minutes to two hours to run
on to-day’s record. And here comes a slew of them up the street,” said
Billy.

Indeed, there was a larger number of cars in Breckenridge that night
than there had been at Greenbaugh at the end of the previous day’s run.

In the morning the cars had to be started ten minutes apart as they were
at the beginning of the endurance test. And it was raining—a fine,
penetrating drizzle—that made the traveling most unpleasant. The wheels
skidded, too, and the best car in the race could not make time over the
slushy roads.

Besides, the second climb of the mountain chain was just ahead. The
Speedwells struck it an hour before noon. Half way up the steep ascent
they passed number seven—stuck in the muddy ruts. Chance and Burton were
floundering around, trying to pry out their heavy car.

“This isn’t any fun!” shouted Poole, recognizing the Speedwells. “But
how did you manage to catch up to us again?”

“We never would have escaped Chance Avery’s friends outside of
Greenbaugh if he’d had his way!” cried Billy in reply. “But now I tell
you what it is, Burton: It looks to me as though we were seeing you for
the last time in this race. Fare thee well!” he added with a mocking
smile.

“You’d better not crow too loud, youngster,” growled Dan. “We don’t know
what may happen to us yet.”

But nothing could convince Billy now that they hadn’t got Poole’s car
beaten. Their own lighter machine worked much better on the heavy road.

There were ten cars in advance of them when the Speedwells reached the
pass through the hills and started down the incline which ended at the
plain on which Riverdale, Compton, and neighboring towns were built.
With seven of these cars they caught up at Lorillord at the end of their
fourth day’s run. They were then seventy-two miles from Compton. The
three cars ahead were respectively sixty-eight miles, fifty-nine miles,
and fifty-six miles from the end of the endurance run.

“If it clears off before morning, we’re beaten,” said Dan, with
confidence. “But our car is a regular mudlark. If it keeps on raining we
may plough through and catch up to all three of those other cars.”

“Suppose they wait till it clears off before they start to-morrow?”
suggested Billy.

“If you’ll read your little book you’ll find that isn’t allowed. There’s
only fifteen hours’ recess allowed between the end of one day’s run and
the beginning of another.”

The boys were first up in the morning. The weather bureau reported no
hope of a change in the falling weather; but the other autoists at the
hotel hesitated to set forth early.

Not so, however, Dan and Billy. They had overhauled their car as usual
the night before. They were well acquainted with the stretch of road
before them. At seven o’clock they wheeled out before the hotel, took
the time from the starter, and whirled away, spraying the mud on either
side from under their wheels, in a wide fan.

Only one of their rivals was on the road before them, and Dan and Billy
raced and passed that car within the first fifteen minutes, and did not
see it again until it reached the Compton Motordrome.

There was one car, however, that kept close on their trail. They heard
it frequently and sometimes caught glimpses of it; but it was so far
away that neither Dan nor Billy could identify it. They, however, feared
this speedy car. Indeed, although they knew now that they would arrive
first at the end of the run, they were not sure that they would have won
this glorious race.

It was with fear and trembling that they passed over the line, ran into
the big arena and saw their time marked up on the board: A thousand and
eight miles in forty-three hours and four minutes.

The car behind them shot into the motordrome and proved to be Mr.
Darringford’s.

“I believe I’ve beat you, boys!” he cried, leaping out of his car.

But the time keeper announced his time as forty-three hours, fifteen
minutes, twenty-four seconds.

“I declare!” laughed the gentleman, “it will be nothing to brag of, no
matter who wins the gold cup. The weather was against fast running
yesterday and this morning. Here comes another!”

It was number seven. The heavy car rolled in beside the Speedwells’ and
came to a groaning halt. It was nearly shaken to pieces. Chance had
certainly punished his partner’s auto hard during those last few miles.

But to no purpose. Their time was forty-four hours flat, and there were
several cars that beat number seven. Burton came and shook hands warmly
with Dan and Billy, while Chance sneaked away.

“I just found out about what Chance did to you back at Farmingdale,”
Burton said. “I want you to know that I had nothing to do with any such
mean business—nor did I know he put his friends at the seminary up to
holding you back on the road. Mr. Briggs was at the hotel we stopped at
last night and he had the whole story—and about your capturing the motor
car robbers, too. I hope you’ve won the race. I’d like to have beaten
you if I could have done so fairly; but Chance and I get through with
each other right here and now—believe me!”

It was some time before the uncertainty regarding who had captured the
race was over. Finally however, it was shown beyond doubt that the
Speedwell boys were the winners. The nearest car to their record had
made the distance in forty-three hours, nine and one-half minutes. Among
the first few cars it had been a remarkably close race.

Dan and Billy went home by train and carried the handsome gold cup with
them. The little speech Mr. Briggs made, praising their pluck, and
particularly their bravery, made the ears of the boys burn. Their
capture of the motor and bank robbers had been printed in the papers and
Dan and Billy were lionized not a little when they got home.

The Riverdale _Star_ again had a long story in it about them. And the
editor ran a picture of their Breton-Melville car, too. The boys could
have sold the auto at a fancy price had they so desired.

“I don’t know but we’re foolish not to take the offer,” said Billy. “We
might get a cheaper car, and own a motor launch beside. And I would love
to have a launch by next spring.”

But one day Mr. Baird, the bank cashier, sent for them. The boys learned
that the three motor thieves had been convicted of the robbery of the
bank, and had received sentences aggregating thirteen years.

“The Farmers’ Bank has put to your joint account, boys, the sum of five
hundred dollars,” the cashier told them. “We do not claim that that
entirely repays you for your work in identifying the robbers and causing
their arrest. Mr. Crawley and I both feel we are still your debtors,”
and he shook the boys’ hands warmly.

This unexpected windfall perhaps explains why our readers who have
become interested in the adventures of Dan and Billy can follow their
history further in the next volume of this series, to be entitled, “The
Speedwell Boys and Their Power Launch; Or, To the Rescue of the
Castaways.”

Dan and Billy remain true to their speedy automobile and to their
beautiful Flying Feather motorcycles; but they have conquered swift
locomotion on the land; now they long to try their fortunes on the
water. And having proved themselves to be courageous, industrious and
honorable we may believe thoroughly in their future success.


                                THE END

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machete. He had a primitive education in some things, and his daring
adventures will be followed with breathless interest by thousands._

1. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY _or The Old Naturalist’s Secret_

In the depth of the jungle Bomba lives a life replete with thrilling
situations. Once he saves the lives of two American rubber hunters who
ask him who he is, and how he had come into the jungle. He sets off to
solve the mystery of his identity.

2. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE MOVING MOUNTAIN _or The Mystery of the
Caves of Fire_

Bomba travels through the jungle, encountering wild beasts and hostile
natives. At last he trails the old man of the burning mountain to his
cave and learns more concerning himself.

3. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE GIANT CATARACT _or Chief Nascanora and
His Captives_

From the Moving Mountain Bomba travels to the Giant Cataract, still
searching out his parentage. Among the Pilati Indians he finds some
white captives, and an aged opera singer who is the first to give Bomba
real news of his forebears.

4. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON JAGUAR ISLAND _or Adrift on the River of
Mystery_

Jaguar Island was a spot as dangerous as it was mysterious and Bomba was
warned to keep away. But the plucky boy sallied forth and met adventures
galore.

5. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE ABANDONED CITY _or A Treasure Ten
Thousand Years Old_

Years ago this great city had sunk out of sight beneath the trees of the
jungle. A wily half-breed and his tribe thought to carry away its
treasure of gold and precious stones. Bomba follows.

               _Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_

       ---------------------------------------------------------

              CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                        THE BOY RANCHERS SERIES
                          BY WILLARD F. BAKER
           _12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors_
                 _Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid_

[Illustration]

_Stories of the great west, with cattle ranches as a setting, related in
such a style as to captivate the hearts of all boys._

 1. THE BOY RANCHERS
 _or Solving the Mystery at Diamond X_
 Two eastern boys visit their cousin. They
 become involved in an exciting mystery.

 2. THE BOY RANCHERS IN CAMP
 _or The Water Fight at Diamond X_
 Returning for a visit, the two eastern lads learn, with delight, that
 they are to become boy ranchers.

 3. THE BOY RANCHERS ON THE TRAIL
 _or The Diamond X After Cattle Rustlers_
 Our boy heroes take the trail after Del Pinzo and his outlaws.

 4. THE BOY RANCHERS AMONG THE INDIANS
 _or Trailing the Yaquis_
 Rosemary and Floyd are captured by the Yaqui Indians but the
 boy ranchers trailed them into the mountains and effected the rescue.

 5. THE BOY RANCHERS AT SPUR CREEK
 _or Fighting the Sheep Herders_
 Dangerous struggle against desperadoes for land rights brings out
 heroic adventures.

 6. THE BOY RANCHERS IN THE DESERT
 _or Diamond X and the Lost Mine_
 One night a strange old miner almost dead from hunger and hardship
 arrived at the bunk house. The boys cared for him and he told
 them of the lost desert mine.

 7. THE BOY RANCHERS ON ROARING RIVER
 _or Diamond X and the Chinese Smugglers_
 The boy ranchers help capture Delton’s gang who were engaged in
 smuggling Chinese across the border.

               _Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_

       ---------------------------------------------------------

              CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                        THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES
                           BY LESTER CHADWICK
         _12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid_

[Illustration]

   1. BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS
     _or The Rivals of Riverside_
   Joe is an everyday country boy who loves to
   play baseball and particularly to pitch.

   2. BASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL NINE
     _or Pitching for the Blue Banner_
   Joe’s great ambition was to go to boarding
   school and play on the school team.

   3. BASEBALL JOE AT YALE
     _or Pitching for the College Championship_
   In his second year at Yale Joe becomes a varsity pitcher.

   4. BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUE
     _or Making Good as a Professional Pitcher_
   From Yale College to a baseball league of our Central States.

   5. BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE
     _or A Young Pitcher’s Hardest Struggles_
   From the Central League Joe goes to the St. Louis Nationals.

   6. BASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTS
     _or Making Good as a Twirler in the Metropolis_
   Joe was traded to the Giants and became their mainstay.

   7. BASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIES
     _or Pitching for the Championship_
   What Joe did to win the series will thrill the most jaded reader.

   8. BASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD
     _or Pitching on a Grand Tour_
   The Giants and the All-Americans tour the world.

   9. BASEBALL JOE: HOME RUN KING
     _or The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record_
   Joe becomes the greatest batter in the game.

   10. BASEBALL JOE SAVING THE LEAGUE
     _or Breaking up a Great Conspiracy_
   Throwing the game meant a fortune but also dishonor.

   11. BASEBALL JOE CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM
     _or Bitter Struggles on the Diamond_
   Joe is elevated to the position of captain.

   12. BASEBALL JOE CHAMPION OF THE LEAGUE
     _or The Record that was Worth While_
   A plot is hatched to put Joe’s pitching arm out of commission.

   13. BASEBALL JOE CLUB OWNER
     _or Putting the Home Town on the Map_
   Joe develops muscle weakness and is ordered off the field for a
   year.

               _Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_

       ---------------------------------------------------------

              CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                       THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES
                           BY LESTER CHADWICK
              _12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in Colors_
                  _Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid_

[Illustration]

            _Mr. Chadwick has played on the diamond and on the gridiron
            himself._

                         1. THE RIVAL PITCHERS
                     _A Story of College Baseball_

            Tom Parsons, a “hayseed,” makes good on the scrub team of
            Randall College.

                        2. A QUARTERBACK’S PLUCK
                     _A Story of College Football_

            A football story, told in Mr. Chadwick’s best style, that is
            bound to grip the reader from the start.

                           3. BATTING TO WIN
                     _A Story of College Baseball_

            Tom Parsons and his friends Phil and Sid are the leading
            players on Randall College team. There is a great game.

                        4. THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN
                     _A Story of College Football_

            After having to reorganize their team at the last moment,
            Randall makes a touchdown that won a big game.

                      5. FOR THE HONOR OF RANDALL
                     _A Story of College Athletics_

            The winning of the hurdle race and long-distance run is
            extremely exciting.

                       6. THE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS
                   _A Story of College Water Sports_

            Tom, Phil and Sid prove as good at aquatic sports as they
            are on track, gridiron and diamond

               _Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_

       ---------------------------------------------------------

              CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York

------------------------------------------------------------------------




    Transcriber's Notes


    Italicized phrases are presented by surrounding the text with
    _underscores_. Boldface phrases are presented by surrounding the
    text with =equal signs=. Small capitals have been rendered in full
    capitals.

    Punctuation has been standardized. Minor spelling and typographic
    errors were corrected silently, except as noted below.

    Table of contents, chapter 1 title - changed "Manoeuvers" to
    "Manœuvers" to be consistent with other usage in the book

    page 28 - changed "re-action" to "reaction"

    page 80 - changed "re-painted" to "repainted" to be consistent with
    other use of "repainting" and "repainted" in the book

    page 167 - changed "XII" to "XXII"





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Speedwell Boys and Their Racing
Auto, by Roy Rockwood

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50282 ***