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THE AUTO BOYS' QUEST
_By_ JAMES A. BRADEN
AUTHOR OF "THE AUTO BOYS," "THE AUTO BOYS' OUTING," "FAR PAST THE
FRONTIER," "CAPTIVES THREE," "CONNECTICUT BOYS IN THE WESTERN RESERVE,"
ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY ARTHUR DeBEBIAN
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
CHICAGO, AKRON OHIO, NEW YORK
Copyright, 1910
By The Saalfield Publishing Company
[Illustration: Phil held up a yellow envelope, then read: "Know you have
gone. Don't know where. Rushing around crazy."]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A Plan and a Scheme 7
II A Little Practice in Strategy 23
III A Plan that Did not Fail 40
IV Safely Away 53
V Camping on a Strange Road 74
VI On to the Gold Cup Races 90
VII A Night Adventure 104
VIII Plans for the Big Race 120
IX The Crafty Plan of Mr. Gouger 134
X Adventure Befalls the Chosen Trio 151
XI Mr. Blackbeard, the Giant 168
XII Discovered 184
XIII Around the Gold Cup Circuit 203
XIV At the Clarion Racing Camp 218
XV Secrets of the Woods 233
THE AUTO BOYS' QUEST
CHAPTER I
A PLAN AND A SCHEME
"And they piled three stones one on top of another to mark the place.
The first was just a big field stone, the second was rough and flat and
the third, which was at the top, was the kind called conglomerate. You
know--all full of pebbles, like coarse gravel pressed into a mass.
Or--or like a fruit cake."
There was a note of earnestness in Billy Worth's voice, as if he felt
his words to be of great importance and desired that his hearers be
impressed accordingly. That his communication did have reference to an
important matter was made most apparent, perhaps, by the response it
elicited, also earnestly spoken:
"And if no one has disturbed them, the chances are the rocks are there
yet," said Phil Way. "I mean that, although the heaving of the ground,
as it froze and thawed winter after winter, would probably throw the
pile down, the three different stones would still be close together for
years upon years."
"And I'll be standing here for years upon years without starting this
engine if you don't give me a spark! Almost breaking myself in two, and
you sit there threshing over that old stone pile again! Did you think I
was working this crank handle just for exercise?" These remarks, both
earnest and emphatic, came from a young gentleman who stood at the front
of a large touring car, the forward seats of which vehicle were occupied
by the two whose words have been earlier noted. "Or did you think I was
trying an experiment in perpetual motion?" he added, with equal sarcasm.
Mr. Billy Worth, at the steering wheel, laughed good-naturedly. "I
solemnly beg your pardon, Mac," he said. "I was thinking of those three
stones. Now you're all right!" So saying, he moved the quadrant to the
point at which there was a spark advanced to set the automobile's engine
chugging when his friend with the crank handle had again given it an
initial motion.
"Was pretty sure Dave would make a discovery if he worked hard enough,"
piped a shrill voice tantalizingly. "I noticed that the spark wasn't on.
Meant to mention it after while, but really didn't like to interrupt the
conversation!"
These remarks, accompanied by a very self-complacent grin, proceeded
from a young gentleman whose half-recumbent position in the tonneau was
possibly more comfortable than dignified. Indeed, comfort rather than
dignity was plainly his preference as no doubt it often is with persons
somewhat less than fifteen years of age.
"Meant to mention it, did you?" came with marked emphasis from the one
addressed as Dave, slamming the tonneau door behind him, as the machine
moved out of its quarters--a tidy green and yellow building nestling
beneath some old elms. "Meant to mention it, eh?" and putting hands
suddenly upon the youthful humorist's shoulders, he shook him pretty
vigorously.
The latter took his punishment with utmost good nature, saying only, "No
fault of mine! If you fellows don't know how to start the car, let me
know and I'll teach you. Gee whiz!"
With all its irony, this speech was allowed to pass unnoticed for now
the automobile glided with a gentle bounce over the sidewalk and out of
the cinder drive of Dr. Way's residence into the street. All four
passengers settled themselves in their seats as if for a rapid ride.
Their car ran beautifully and in scarcely more time than is required to
state the fact its glistening wheels and body, its shining wind shield,
lamps and horn had disappeared at the park gate far down the avenue.
Had you happened to be in that well-known city of the Middle West,
Lannington, on this early day of June in the year 190--, and had you
noticed this particular automobile as, guided by well-trained hands, it
swept with a flourish around the curve and in through the park entrance,
quite possibly you would have wished to make inquiry concerning the car
and its occupants. There was something of quiet distinction about the
latter and about the machine and the way it was handled.
Inquiry from any person interested in boys or motoring or both--and who
is not?--would have been, indeed, entirely natural. Nor would the
veriest stranger have experienced difficulty in obtaining information.
While in no sense were they especially prominent because of wealth,
exalted social position or otherwise, the Auto Boys, as the four were
called, were at least well known.
Introduced briefly and individually they are Phil Way, Billy Worth, Dave
MacLester and Paul Jones. Just what sort of lads they are will become
apparent as the acquaintanceship progresses. At the present moment
attention must be returned to the spot they have so recently
quitted--the little green and yellow building beneath the elms.
A very tidy structure is the small garage the four friends call their
own. It stands at the end of the drive leading out past the blooming
syringas and a great bed of vari-colored peonies to the street. Approach
and entrance from that direction are very convenient. Or entrance by way
of the alley, in the rear, may be accomplished quite as easily. Its
doors, both front and back, are the largest things about the building.
With both opened wide the automobile can be driven directly through. To
back the car out is unnecessary at any time. Driving in from the rear
means simply driving out through the front doors, or vice versa.
The custom of the young proprietors of this model establishment of its
kind with reference to coming and going with the car was well known
among their acquaintances. It was well known, too, that at most times
the alley doors of the garage were kept closed and locked. Just why any
of their friends should remain waiting at that side of the building,
therefore, with them inside and the machine headed toward the street, as
a glance in at the back window would easily show, might well be
considered a trifle mysterious.
Also, just why any friend should apply an ear to the small crack between
the door and the wall of the building proper--stooping down in an
attitude of thoughtful attention upon all that was taking place
inside--might well be made a subject of inquiry.
Nevertheless precisely such a situation had existed to-day. A sharp-eyed
young fellow, not much less than sixteen years of age, had stood for all
of ten minutes in practically the position indicated. Not until the
automobile and its owners had departed did he also leave, walking
hastily down the alley and keeping much closer under the cover of the
high, tight-board fence than would seem entirely necessary.
The young man was too respectable in his general appearance to be
mistaken for a tramp or other type of vagabond loitering about for no
good purpose. Nor had he any of the usual sneak-thief characteristics,
suspicious as his actions were. Only a half-surly, half-defiant
expression about his hawk-like eyes and a scowl above his heavy brows
gave a clue to his thoughts and purposes. It was easy to guess that in
some way he had suffered a disappointment.
At the corner of a residence street upon which the lad presently
emerged, his face lighted up. Smiling, as if he had concluded to think
better of the matter whatever it may have been, he spoke quite aloud,
yet in a low tone: "'And they piled three stones on top of one another
to mark the place. One was a big field stone, another a flat stone and
the third, which was at the top, was conglomerate.'" And then a moment
later, "'Conglomerate! All full of pebbles like coarse gravel!' As if
any man didn't know 'conglomerate'!"
There was something coarse and rasping in the way the boy repeated the
latter phrase of the words he had overheard at the green and yellow
shed. It suggested both maliciousness and mischief. His further language
as he spoke in undertones to no ears but his own was confirmation of
such an opinion. "Plenty of time yet. Guess wherever any old thirty
horse-power motor can go, a forty-five can follow! Confound those little
beasts! I don't see where they can be!"
That the young man's latter remark, even less amiable than it was
complimentary, had reference to someone whom he expected to see, was
made apparent a few minutes later when a heavy car of the roadster type,
too lumbering to be of the best, came suddenly around the corner and
stopped at the curb near him. The machine carried two young fellows of
about his own age.
"Been looking for you everywhere, Pick," said one of the two--he at the
wheel--"You said you'd go out Chestnut. What you doing way down here on
the avenue?"
"Said nothin' of the kind," growled the sharp-eyed one. "I said I'd
meet you right here on Green Avenue. Been looking for you till--"
"You did _not_!" spoke the other of the two in the car. "I know what you
said!"
But by that time the lad called "Pick" had seated himself in the double
rumble, and as the automobile moved forward--"Oh shut up!" he answered
moodily. "I'm sore! Still nothing to it but talk of the three stones.
Anyhow, though, I've got the exact words about them," and with this he
repeated the description of three stones, piled one on top of another,
substantially as he had overheard the same.
"Well, they're going somewhere and they're going to start soon. I've
found out that much, for sure," spoke the chap who drove. He was a
really likable looking fellow, named Perth--Fred, or more often Freddy,
when addressed by his first name.
The lad beside him was "Soapy"--otherwise Harry--Gaines, the somewhat
spoiled son of one of the very few rich men in Lannington. He was of
such uncertain temper, slipping so far beyond the reach of ordinary
mortals and putting on ever and again so vast an air of superiority,
possibly because of the paternal wealth, but with or without cause or
reason, that his nickname seemed well applied. He it was who claimed
ownership of the Roadster.
"Course they're going somewhere! Haven't we known it all along? Didn't
they say themselves they were going, and just as good as tell us we
wasn't wanted, when we told 'em we'd go with 'em? Humph! They've had a
plan rigged up this long while and making such a mystery of it that half
the town wonders what they're up to."
He of the hawk eyes--otherwise "Pick," otherwise Tom Pickton--was the
speaker. The coarse, rasping quality of his voice was the more
pronounced as he put more contempt in it. "Just the same, I'm thinking
they can't go where we can't follow--if we like; eh, Gaines?" It was in
quite a different key, though the voice was still harsh as a file, that
Pickton addressed the owner of the machine.
The latter young gentleman said that with his car he could run circles
around the persons to whom the other made reference. He was of the
opinion that nothing more interesting could be desired, however, than
merely to trail along behind the Auto Boys, (for it was to them that the
conversation referred) and by thus being constantly present, annoy and
harass them in a way that would be a "deuced lot o' fun."
Then, too, if the four chums who had declined the self-extended
invitation that Soapy and his friends accompany them, had in mind the
secret exploring of a mystery, a search for a robbers' cave or some such
thing, which was considered to be their real purpose, they would be
enabled to carry out their plan, at last, only by making terms with the
Chosen Trio.
The Chosen Trio, it will be understood, was the name by which Messrs.
Pickton, Gaines and Perth had elected to style themselves. "Chosen to be
hanged, if anything!" Paul Jones had ungraciously said; but that is
neither here nor there. The three were in no immediate danger of
meeting such a fate, and they _were_ capable of making themselves most
extremely disagreeable, without appearing to trespass beyond their
lawful rights. Where one automobile was allowed, for instance, another
might follow; and the public roads everywhere were built no more for one
individual than for another.
"Well, I was only going to say, if you'll give me the chance, that I
know the four of 'em are going on a trip and what's more I know just
about where," put in Fred Perth, as Soapy concluded. "They've hired Jim
Underhill to attend to a lot of the work they had engaged to do and they
told him he'd have to begin next week sometime. They wouldn't tell Jim
where they were going. Just said, 'Ask me no questions an' I'll tell you
no lies,' when he put it straight at 'em to know what for a trip was
scheduled."
"Next week, eh?" Pickton ejaculated. "_We're_ ready _now_. All we've got
to do is watch their old boat and when they begin to pack up it will be
ditto here. Nothing much to that, eh?"
"Everything's fixed for me to leave any time," said Perth, thinking with
satisfaction how, after much difficulty, he had obtained permission to
accompany Gaines and Pickton on a proposed motoring expedition.
"Huh! I'll just _go_," spoke Soapy in that braggadocio way so common to
his kind.
"Ought to get some new stuff in the touring outfit, I suppose," put in
Pick, as if to himself, but really fearful that at the last moment, due
to Gaines' well-known careless ways, the car would be found without one
item of spare equipment.
"By George! That's right! Run down to the Park Garage, Freddy. We'll
load up some stuff and I'll have 'em put it in dad's next month's bill.
We'll be away by that time."
These instructions from Soapy, always willing to make purchases if they
were to be charged, and the more so if he saw at hand a way to defer
for a time an interview with his father in regard to them, changed the
course of the Roadster away from the residence district of the city to
the business center.
As the car passed the down-town entrance to the park, the machine of the
Auto Boys came up behind and, gliding past, halted before the door of
the automobile establishment toward which the Chosen Trio had journeyed.
The Roadster drew up beside the Thirty.
"So you fellows are going to let daylight into some more mysteries, eh?"
said Pick, in a tone of banter to the occupants of the other machine.
"Are we?" asked Billy Worth, with a smile.
"But you needn't tear yourselves away on that account. We haven't gone
yet," Dave MacLester added as Soapy said, "Drive on!"
Perhaps it was the quiet, unruffled and yet absolutely uncommunicative
tones of the Auto Boys that fired Soapy Gaines' wrath. Like a pouter
pigeon he swelled up. "Aw, sure, drive on!" he said to Perth, still at
the wheel. "And don't you think," he added in a low tone, still pompous
but threatening, too--"And don't you think that we won't make 'em get
right down on their knees to us or wish they'd never left home."
"Or both!" laughed Pickton in that unbearably rasping way.
"Yes, or both," was the response, "and some more on top of that! I'm
going into this thing right, now, just for that low-down answer of
Worth's if nothing else--the little two-by-four!"
"But yet--"
It was Perth who would have spoken, and it was in his mind to say that
he saw nothing particularly objectionable in Billy Worth's words; that
his answer to Pick's observation was natural enough.
"'But yet'? Just you keep your 'but yet' till later on. I'm talking
now!" interrupted Soapy, savagely. "I'm talking now, I say!"
The fact is, indeed, that Mr. Soapy Gaines was quite apt to talk too
much.