[Illustration: THE CAR POISED FOR AN INSTANT, THE FRONT WHEELS ON THE
VERY BRINK.]
THE MOTOR BOYS
ON ROAD AND RIVER
Or
Racing To Save a Life
BY
CLARENCE YOUNG
AUTHOR OF “THE MOTOR BOYS,” “THE MOTOR BOYS UNDER
THE SEA,” “THE RACER BOYS SERIES,” “THE
JACK RANGER SERIES,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
BOOKS BY CLARENCE YOUNG
=THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES=
12mo. Illustrated.
THE MOTOR BOYS
THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND
THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO
THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS
THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC
THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC
THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS
THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE ROCKIES
THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE OCEAN
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE WING
THE MOTOR BOYS AFTER A FORTUNE
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE BORDER
THE MOTOR BOYS UNDER THE SEA
THE MOTOR BOYS ON ROAD AND RIVER
=THE JACK RANGER SERIES=
12mo. Finely illustrated.
JACK RANGER’S SCHOOLDAYS
JACK RANGER’S WESTERN TRIP
JACK RANGER’S SCHOOL VICTORIES
JACK RANGER’S OCEAN CRUISE
JACK RANGER’S GUN CLUB
JACK RANGER’S TREASURE BOX
=THE RACER BOYS SERIES=
12mo. Illustrated.
THE RACER BOYS
THE RACER BOYS AT BOARDING SCHOOL
THE RACER BOYS TO THE RESCUE
THE RACER BOYS ON THE PRAIRIES
THE RACER BOYS ON GUARD
THE RACER BOYS FORGING AHEAD
COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE MOTOR BOYS ON ROAD AND RIVER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. JERRY IS ABSENT-MINDED 1
II. JERRY EXPLAINS 11
III. THE CLAY-DIGGERS 22
IV. SUSPICIONS 31
V. PROFESSOR SNODGRASS 41
VI. DISAPPOINTMENT 48
VII. A QUEER CONFERENCE 59
VIII. SELLING THE LAND 67
IX. A HURRIED DEPARTURE 74
X. THE PLASTER-MUD 86
XI. “WE’VE BEEN TRICKED!” 93
XII. ON THE BRINK 99
XIII. ANOTHER DISAPPOINTMENT 107
XIV. ON THE TRAIL 115
XV. A STOWAWAY 124
XVI. A HARD FALL 132
XVII. THE CELEBRATED DOCTOR 140
XVIII. A CRY OF FIRE 150
XIX. ON THE WAY 158
XX. STUCK 166
XXI. THE DESERTED CAMP 173
XXII. SEARCHING 182
XXIII. IN THE GULCH 190
XXIV. DISCLOSURES 199
XXV. OFF FOR HELP 205
XXVI. A RACE FOR A LIFE 212
XXVII. THE BROKEN SPRING 217
XXVIII. THE LAST LAP 223
XXIX. THE OPERATION 233
XXX. THE TWO-TAILED LIZARD 239
INTRODUCTION
MY DEAR BOYS:
Sometimes, as you doubtless know, the simplest actions result in the
most remarkable complications. When Jerry Hopkins picked up a lump of
common-looking clay on some swamp land that his mother owned he had no
idea what a strange series of events was to transpire from his simple
act. Before he realized it he and his chums were involved in a strange
secret, and they had set off on a trip that had, as its ultimate
object, the saving of the life of Professor Snodgrass.
In this, the sixteenth volume of the “Motor Boys Series,” I have set
down what followed when Jerry learned the value of that lump of clay.
How he and his chums started off after the professor, who had strangely
disappeared; how they found him, almost lifeless; and how they raced to
bring the celebrated doctor to him--all this you will find related in
this book.
You have shown that you liked the other books I have written concerning
the “Motor Boys,” and I venture to hope that this one will appeal to
you.
That there was really a two-tailed lizard was left for Bob to
demonstrate in an unexpected manner. That is all I will say, now,
regarding that strange creature. You may turn the following pages and
learn the rest for yourselves.
Your sincere friend,
CLARENCE YOUNG.
THE MOTOR BOYS ON ROAD AND RIVER
CHAPTER I
JERRY IS ABSENT-MINDED
“Pretty good game; wasn’t it?”
“It sure was--a corker!”
“I thought our Cresville boys wouldn’t be able to pull up, after the
Red Sox got that big lead on ’em, but they certainly played their heads
off.”
“They sure did. The pitcher won the game for them with that last wallop
of his!”
“That’s right,” remarked a stout lad, one of a group of three who were
walking slowly across the green diamond at the conclusion of a ball
match.
“The umpire made some pretty rank decisions,” added the boy who had
made the first comment, glancing across in front of his companion, who,
in the middle of the trio, separated the two speakers.
“You’re right,” commented the stout youth.
The two exchanged looks--queer glances, and, as if by mutual consent,
gazed up at the face of their chum who walked between them. Then the
stout lad winked.
“What’s the matter, Jerry?” he asked. “Didn’t you like the game?”
“Game? What game? Oh, yes--sure I liked it!” was the hurried response,
as though the speaker’s thoughts had been far afield when the import of
the question was grasped. “It was a good little game,” went on the lad
in the centre of the trio. “Too bad our boys didn’t win, though!”
“Too bad!” echoed the stout lad. “Why, what----”
“Didn’t win!” interrupted the other. “Say, Jerry, what’s got into you?
The Cresville team did win!”
“Oh, did they? That’s funny! I guess I didn’t pay much attention toward
the last.”
“No, and not toward the beginning, either, I guess,” grumbled the stout
lad. “I wonder what’s gotten into him,” he thought.
“So they won; did they, Bob?” asked the lad addressed as Jerry. “Well,
I’m glad of it.”
“Of course they won, Jerry Hopkins,” was the quick answer. “And this
practically clinches the local championship for them, too. It was a
corking good game; wasn’t it, Ned?”
“Now you’re talking! A good crowd, too,” and Ned Slade looked at the
throng pouring down from grandstand and bleachers.
“What shall we do?” asked Bob Baker, the stout lad before referred to.
“I vote not to go home just yet. It’s early. Let’s take a little spin
down the road.”
“All right,” agreed Ned. “Shall we, Jerry?”
“Eh? Oh, yes, I’m in for whatever you fellows say. It’ll be nice on the
river to-day.”
“River! Who said anything about the river?” demanded Ned. “Do you think
we came to this ball game in our motor boat, Jerry Hopkins? Say, what’s
the matter with you to-day, anyhow? We’re talking about taking a spin
in the auto. Will you come along?”
“Oh, sure I’ll go. You know that!” exclaimed Jerry, and with an effort
he seemed to recall his thoughts from whatever distant realms they
roamed. “Sure we’ll go for a spin. I guess I was thinking about the
ball game.”
Ned and Bob each gave their chum a queer look, but they said nothing.
Only Ned thought to himself:
“Thinking about the ball game; eh? That won’t go with me, when, a
little while ago, he didn’t even know which side had won. There’s
something wrong with Jerry. I wonder what it is?”
But, whatever it was, it did not seem to be anything very serious, for
soon Jerry smiled at his chums, and clapping Bob on the shoulder with
a force that made the stout youth grunt, exclaimed:
“Sure we’ll go for a spin! It will give us an appetite for supper, and
I seem to need one. I’ve been a little off my feed the last few days.”
At this Bob looked worried. Eating was something in which he took a
great deal of interest. Perhaps it was that which made him so stout,
and had gained for him the nickname of “Chunky,” which his chums
occasionally called him.
The three boys--the “motor boys” they were locally called--because they
so often rode about in motor vehicles--automobiles, motor boats, or
motor-driven airships--had come to the ball game in their auto which
stood parked, with a number of others, back of the grandstand. Thither
they now made their way.
The air was filled with the noisy chug-chug of scores of machines as
they backed, turned and darted ahead to get from the ball field to the
road. In and out of the receding throng the autoists guided their cars.
On all sides were talk and laughter--talk of the game just finished,
congratulatory calls to the winners, and expressions of regret for the
losers.
“Yes, it sure was some nifty little game,” remarked Bob, as the chums
reached their machine. “Are you going to drive, Jerry?” he asked.
“I will if you want me to--sure.”
“I hope he pays more attention to the wheel than he did to the ball
game,” remarked Ned, with a slow shake of his head. “If he doesn’t he’s
likely to have us up a tree, or in the ditch.”
But he made no objection as Jerry took his place at the wheel, and
slipped in the switch key of the electric starter. Ned and Bob got
in the tonneau, and Jerry, looking back to see that both doors were
closed, was about to start off when a voice behind the machine cried:
“Hold on! Wait a minute! I won’t be a second! Give me a lift; will you?
I forgot all about it! Terrible important message! Dad’ll be wild if I
don’t deliver it! Great game; wasn’t it? Our boys won fine! Here I am!
Let her go! Never say die! Whizz her along, Jerry! I’m here! Let her
out, do you hear? Move the boat!”
A small youth, very much excited as to manner and words sprang, leaped,
scrambled, climbed, hopped, jumped, vaulted and fell into the vacant
seat beside Jerry. He sat there, his breath coming in gasps, both from
his run and from his outpouring of words.
Jerry, with a quizzical smile, looked down at him; Bob, with
half-opened mouth, leaned forward to gaze; and Ned shook his head in a
hopeless fashion, murmuring:
“Is it all over, Andy Rush?”
“Is--is what--all over?” demanded the small chap.
“Everything,” answered Ned, throwing his hands in the air. “Your
talk--your--your--well, you know what I mean. Is it all over?”
“Of course it is,” was the quick answer. “You can go ahead now, Jerry,”
he added, as though they had been waiting for him.
“Well, I like your nerve!” gasped Bob, who at length found his voice.
“That’s all right. I saw you had a vacant place!” exclaimed Andy,
starting off in another “spasm.” Then he proceeded:
“I’ve got to get back to town in a hurry. Important message--dad told
me not to forget, but I did--went to the ball game. Say, it was great;
wasn’t it? That fly of Watson’s--up in the air--thought it would never
come down--run around the bases--nobody out--whoop her up! Everybody
run! Nobody out--all over!”
He had reared up in his seat to “explode” this, and now sank back again.
Jerry looked at the diminutive orator.
“Are you all through, Andy?” asked the tall lad, gently. “If you are,
we’ll start, with your kind permission and attention. Only we’re not
going back to town right away, so if you have an important message to
deliver you’d better walk, or take a hop, skip and a jump into someone
else’s car. We’re going to take a little ride, and we don’t know when
we’ll get back.”
“Oh, well, I guess it isn’t so important after all,” spoke Andy,
slowly. “I’ll go with you. I’ll leave the message when I come back. You
are coming back; aren’t you?” he asked.
“No telling,” answered Ned, winking at Jerry. “We may take a notion to
run over to San Francisco and spend the night.”
“Huh! I don’t care,” laughed Andy. “I’ll go along. I can telephone the
message back, I guess. Let me go; will you?”
“Oh, well, there’s no getting ahead of you, Andy,” conceded Jerry.
“Stay in, if you like. Only don’t blame us if your dad wants to know
why his message wasn’t delivered.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Ned. “Let her go, Jerry. It’s hot sitting
here in the sun.”
There was a whine and a whirr, as the electric starter spun the
flywheel of the big automobile. Then came a snap, as the gears meshed,
and as the clutch slipped into place the machine slowly backed to a
clear place. Then, as Jerry threw in the first forward speed, it shot
ahead, and, a little later was spinning down a pleasant, shaded country
road.
“This is something like,” observed Bob, leaning back in comfort. “Want
to go anywhere special, Jerry?”
“No, I’ll go anywhere you fellows say.”
“Let’s have a race!” burst out Andy Rush. “There goes a car! You can
easy pass that, Jerry! Speed her up! Let’s race ’em! Look, they’re
laughing at us! Go ahead! Whoop!”
The tall steersman made no effort to increase the speed of the car.
Instead he smiled down at the excited lad beside him, and remarked:
“It’s too hot to do all that talking, Andy. Save it for the winter
season when you’ll need it. We’ll have no race to-day.”
If the small chap was disappointed he did not show it. For something
new claimed his attention. A big gray squirrel scurried across the
street in front of the car.
“Look at that!” cried Andy. “Say, he can go some! If I only had a gun
now! Squirrel pie for mine!”
“Squirrels are out of season now,” remarked Bob. “You’d be fined if you
shot ’em.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Ned.
“Let’s go on to Blairtown, and have a bite to eat,” suggested Bob,
after a pause. “There’s a good restaurant there.”
“Humph! Seeing that squirrel must have made you hungry,” commented Ned
with a laugh. “But go ahead, if you like, Jerry. I don’t mind.”
Jerry, at the wheel, nodded, and for some time guided the car in
silence. Now and then Andy made some excited remark at the sight of
something along the highway. Bob and Andy exchanged occasional opinions.
“How’s she running, Jerry?” asked Bob, after a bit.
“Yes, our fellows did some good running,” was the unexpected answer.
“Oh, wake up!” cried Ned, with a laugh. “We weren’t talking about the
ball game.”
“No?” queried Jerry. “I thought Bob said something about runs.”
“I was asking how the car ran,” put in the stout lad.
“Oh!” exclaimed Jerry, comprehendingly. “Why, she’s going like a sewing
machine--just as easy. She sure is some car!”
“Yes, I’m glad we traded in our old one, and got this,” commented Ned.
“That self-starter alone is worth the difference. No more breaking our
backs cranking up.”
Jerry did not reply to this. After his remark to Bob he had relapsed
into silence again--a silence to which Ned called his chum’s attention
by a nudge.
“Something sure has gotten into Jerry,” whispered the stout youth.
“That’s right, Chunky,” agreed his companion.
They rode on for some distance farther, Jerry guiding the car
skillfully enough, even though his mind did not seem to be on his task.
As he turned up a cross road, that would take them to Blairtown Ned,
glancing up suddenly, cried out:
“Look out, Jerry! Where are you steering? You’re heading right for that
other car!”
A big machine, coming from the opposite direction, and at high speed,
was headed directly for the auto of the motor boys. But it was on the
proper side of the highway, whereas Jerry was on the left.
“Look out!” Bob cried, springing to his feet. “We’re going to have a
smash, sure!” He leaned forward to open the side door, as though he
would leap out.