A NIGHT ADVENTURE
The cries for help which broke upon the quiet of the night, rousing the
Auto Boys as they slept, they quickly answered. With what result has
been told in the Sagersgrove item appearing in the Lannington morning
paper, the second day following.
Briefly, the circumstances were that, his mind overheated by his large
estimate of his own importance, Marshal Wellock's imagination got the
better of him. True, the four young strangers had appeared to be in a
great hurry. True, one does not often see, even in larger cities than
Sagersgrove, four mere youths enjoying a touring car equipped for
long-distance work. Also the Sagersgrove operator had plainly hinted to
the marshal the telegram the lads received looked decidedly queer. And
to one unacquainted with the facts, it must be admitted, also, that such
an impression was quite natural.
All in all, the bumptious officer, believing he saw a glowing
opportunity to distinguish himself, enlisted one Eli Gouger in his
enterprise, not so much because he desired that gentleman's assistance,
as for the reason that Mr. Gouger was possessed of a motor car. He used
the machine, a light runabout, in his business of ice-cream peddling, on
Sunday afternoons particularly, and on various occasions when not
occupied with another line of activity he pursued, namely, that of
general detective.
In this connection it may as well be stated quite frankly that if Mr.
Gouger had ever succeeded in detecting anything more than some small
boys, whom he once caught filching cherries from his trees, the world at
large had yet to learn of it. But perhaps that was the fault of people
who might have employed him, but didn't. He always had said he never got
half a chance in detective work, though he liked it ever so much better
than the ice-cream business.
Be this as it may, Mr. Gouger, private detective, had eagerly joined
Marshal Wellock in his proposal that they pursue the four mysterious
youths who, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the marshal himself declared,
had stolen the automobile in which they attracted so much attention in
front of the telegraph office.
In some respects the two officials were well matched. Mr. Gouger was
considerably the younger, but his attire had the same appearance of
needing renovating that marked the marshal's outfit. In their
conclusions with regard to the absolute certainty that the young
strangers were automobile thieves, and that probably a reward was
offered somewhere for their arrest, the two were also quite identical.
Even in their private and personal opinions of each other they did not
differ greatly.
Marshal Wellock secretly considered Mr. Gouger to be nothing more than a
would-be private detective, whose gilded badge was worth about five
cents as a novelty--nothing more.
Eli, on the other hand, had long since reached within his own confidence
the certain conviction that the town of Sagersgrove needed nothing so
much as a new marshal; that Mr. Wellock was a conceited old loafer and
nothing more, and that a man of about Eli Gouger's age should be in his
place.
The very fact that, in the recesses of their hearts, the two men had for
each other a minus quantity in the matter of admiration, was to a degree
responsible for the ignominious ending of their enterprise. Each
secretly planning to reap the major portion of the glory, also the
reward they persuaded themselves would follow the capture of the four
desperate car thieves, they chugged painfully over the road the Auto
Boys had taken. Darkness had come before they were fairly started. Now
it was growing very late.
"It's sure as shootin' that they stole the car. They never would have
took such a road, except they was tryin' to sneak along where nobody
would see 'em," observed Mr. Gouger.
The going grew steadily worse. It was past midnight. The little runabout
had been making a slow and trying voyage over the ruts and through the
holes. Perhaps Marshal Wellock was weary. He certainly had become
impatient.
"Can't you get a little more speed out o' this junk wagon? Like ridin'
in a stone-boat," he remarked pretty sharply, after a long silence in
which he had reflected upon the probability that Mr. Gouger was "putting
up some game" on him.
Nettled by these words, and being tired, cross and likewise suspicious
himself, Mr. Gouger decided to shake the marshal into a better humor by
going over a very rough place at the fastest rate the little car could
muster. Possibly he would have succeeded; at any rate Mr. Wellock was
gripping his seat with both hands to hold on, when suddenly, whizz! The
car skidded into a rut, Mr. Gouger for a moment lost control, and in
another instant the little machine leaped over the low bank into a
stagnant pool of thick, dirty water and almost bottomless mud.
"Now see what you done!" gasped Mr. Wellock, sputtering and spitting, as
he succeeded in dragging himself up the bank. He had gone out of his
seat and into the mud and water like a log rolled off a flat car.
"Who in thunder made me do it? Nobody's fault but your own! I knew
'twasn't safe, but by _gum_! you kept squealin' for more speed! Now see
what _you_ done," hotly returned Eli, who had also taken into his mouth
rather more of the stagnant water than he seemed to relish. Head
foremost he had pitched out over the steering wheel as the machine went
down.
What followed when the two had taken inventory and found themselves not
seriously damaged, though in a truly sorry plight, has in substance been
told. Both men were still wet from head to foot and literally covered
with the thick, oozy mud when the Auto Boys reached them.
The first task was to rescue the car. This was accomplished by means of
ropes hitched to the Thirty though the runabout had sunk almost out of
sight. Beside the rekindled campfire on the ridge, a half-mile away, the
two unhappy officers bathed as best they could and dried their clothes.
The dawn of the early summer morning was breaking now, and Billy Worth
bestirred himself to prepare breakfast. The other boys began repacking
the car which had been quickly unloaded, preparatory to answering the
calls for help.
The identity of the lads Mr. Wellock and Mr. Gouger had learned to their
entire satisfaction. Yet it was with mixed feelings of disappointment
and relief that they became convinced of their folly in supposing the
four young men to be thieves and runaways. For it _was_ a disappointment
that for all their trouble they had received nothing but a ducking in a
swamp; and it _was_ something of a relief not to feel compelled to
place under arrest those who had been of such timely service.
So, as they scraped the thickest of the mud from their clothing, the
crestfallen officers agreed to say nothing to the boys to indicate that
the lads themselves were, in fact, the suspected car thieves of whom,
they had already told, they were in pursuit. Unfortunately their
self-importance had caused them to let a large part of Sagersgrove know
the object of their journey as they set out. Their return home, in
consequence, was followed by a very different kind of story in the
newspapers than they had pictured would be the case.
However, that was a matter for the marshal's and the detective's own and
later consideration. For the present, and for a long time afterward, for
that matter, the degree of admiration they confidentially entertained
toward each other was not materially increased. Nevertheless, the two
did have the manliness to bury their mutual feelings of irritation, in
the presence of the young strangers, and to offer in return for all that
had been done for them to direct the boys to a cross road by which they
could soon reach their proper route.
A hasty breakfast being over, the Thirty was again turned back to the
scene of the runabout's accident. The little car had not been greatly
damaged and from this point it slowly led the way eastward. At a still
early hour a road leading off to the right and seeming to terminate in
the very depths of the marshes was reached. With the assurance, however,
that the rough trail was passable and led directly to the State pike,
the Auto Boys ventured upon this course, Mr. Gouger's machine going on
in advance as before.
A struggle of nearly two hours through ruts and holes--one so bad that
the Thirty was practically unloaded before getting through--brought the
promised end. Coming out of a stump-strewn lane, for the cross road was
at this point nothing more, the two machines emerged upon a fine, smooth
road. There was a sigh of relief from five of the six travelers. The
sixth simply shouted and the hearty enthusiasm of his "Hurrah!" was
inspiring. Needless to say, the noisy one was--to use his own usual form
of identification--"Mr. P. Jones, Esquire."
"It was us they were after, all right. I'm satisfied of that," was Billy
Worth's comment when good-bys had been said to the two men. "They
suspected something or other, and I only wish we knew what."
"I hardly believe that," Phil Way protested mildly, but Paul and Dave
sided quite emphatically with Worth.
Perhaps it is immaterial, but the subject was discussed at great length.
And as the Thirty again rolled smoothly forward all but Phil recalled
with unconcealed satisfaction the woeful spectacle the two men presented
when first the light from the automobile lamps, carried to the scene of
rescue, fell upon them.
"Why, honestly, I'm glad Dave did get us onto that awful road. We've had
a real adventure," chirped Jones; but he had to dodge a backhand swing
from MacLester the same moment. To make his peace in that quarter he
added: "Anyhow we didn't lose so much time and I wouldn't have missed
the excitement for a lot."
So, as the speed and the road permitted, the talk ran on and meanwhile
the car was making good progress forward. The map showed nearly two
hundred miles yet to be covered and half the distance must be made
to-day if possible. If the going continued good this would be no
hardship, but the old pike would be left behind before night, and road
conditions beyond were likely to be questionable.
Following the extremely early breakfast, the usual noonday lunch was
looked forward to with no little impatience as the morning advanced.
Phil had suggested that no pause be made until a small river, shown on
the map to be not many miles distant, was reached, and the others
agreed. Nevertheless a wagon, en route to some market with strawberries,
was so much of a temptation that the car was halted and two baskets of
the fine fruit were purchased. The contents of one of these disappeared
in a manner well calculated to make adherents of Fletcherism hold up
their hands in amazement, had any such been near--which assuredly there
were not, or not in the automobile, at least.
The second basket Billy Worth simply put away to be enjoyed with the
regular noon luncheon; nor would all of Paul's and Dave's coaxing soften
his stony-hearted determination. Billy, it will be remembered, was the
cook and general chief of the commissary department. As such he
possessed in a strong degree the trait, peculiar to those offices, of
always being ready to repel too severe a raid upon the larder between
meals and always keen to add some delicacy to the commissary's store.
And maybe Billy's idea was the right one. Certain it is that when the
river bridge was crossed at last and the noon camp was made under some
willows just beyond, nothing could be finer than the deliciously fresh
berries with sugar and cream. Phil brought the latter from a farmhouse
on the hill above and a still larger supply of good, rich milk. With the
fruit, bread and butter, cheese, crackers and the last of the boiled
ham, the repast was ample in both quantity and enjoyment.
"Only wish we had that other quart of strawberries," sighed Paul Jones,
longingly.
"Of course you do, p-i-g! Lucky to have _any_!" Billy reminded him.
"Provisions are going to be a thing to look out for on this trip."
"Well spoken, my boy; well spoken!" responded Paul, with patronizing
air; but Phil put in, "No joke about that. Nothing nearer the Ship woods
than Gilroy and that's six or seven miles away. No telling, either, how
far back in the woods we may be."
"Great Columbus, Phil! Don't talk that way! You'll give Bill nervous
prostration!" exclaimed MacLester, rising and starting to look the car
over. "On the job here, you fellows, if you're going with me!" he added
briskly. For Mac was driving to-day and the responsibility of covering
yet another sixty miles before sundown, and over roads some of which
might be extremely bad, rested on his shoulders.
If "on the job" meant "on the car," as at least seems probable,
instructions were followed with alacrity. Not even pausing to gather up
the evidences of their having stopped for lunch, Billy and Paul hastily
packed away bread and butter and similar supplies, then clambered into
the tonneau. Phil had hurried to the river's edge where he washed dishes
and milk buckets in a shorter space of time than he would ordinarily
have considered proper; but the car was chugging away in waiting and he
jumped up to the seat beside Dave in an exceedingly spry and nimble
manner.
"Go ahead," he said, and the Thirty answered gently, smoothly to the
clutch.
"You left that strawberry basket lying there by the fence and you had
scribbled all over it," said Billy Worth to Paul, a half hour later. He
was thinking of the possibility of the Chosen Trio coming on behind,
perhaps in hot pursuit, yet uncertain of the course, "What did you write
on the box?"
"Why! Say, that's _so_!" was the answer, with a disconcerted grin,
"That's right! I wrote 'P. Jones, Esq.,' for one thing, and 'With kind
regards to Lannington.' I drew a picture or two and--Gee! I thought I'd
toss the basket into the river! Don't s'pose it will hurt, do you,
Bill?"
"Guess not. Of course we aren't billing the country as if we were a
circus, exactly. At least that wasn't what we set out to do."
"Well, what d'ye think of it? I'm frank to say I'm a fine young
chimpanzee," Jones muttered, really blaming himself a great deal.
"Oh, don't gnash your teeth over it! There's just about one chance in a
hundred that Gaines and his crew will ever find which way we came or try
now to follow us," said Billy reassuringly.
Phil and Dave agreed with Worth as the subject was discussed later,
saying there was no probability whatever that Paul's writing would ever
come to the Trio's notice. Even if Gaines' Roadster were to pass the
identical spot, what likelihood was there that any of the party would
notice or give heed to a little, empty strawberry basket?
So did Jones quickly recover his wonted joyousness. Blithely he was
declaring, "Oh, I guess I'm no wizard! No, no wizard at all. No, not at
all!" his customary good opinion of himself quite restored, within a few
hours.
The sun was low. Camp for the night had been made beside a turbulent
little brook where a woodland skirted the highway. Paul had gone to a
dwelling some distance to the rear for milk. He returned bringing not
only the five quart bucket nearly full, but eggs and a basket of
berries, as well. Hence his self-complacency; hence for the third time,
his words accompanied by that contagious grin, so peculiarly his
own--"Oh, I guess I'm no wizard! Nothing like that at all!"