TOWED BY A MULE
"Bless my gizzard! Is it anything serious?" asked Mr. Damon. "Will it
blow up, or anything like that?"
"No," replied the lad, as he leaped out of the car, and began to make
an examination. Mr. Sharp assisted him.
"The motor seems to be all right," remarked the balloonist, as he
inspected it.
"Yes," agreed our hero, "and the batteries have plenty of power left in
them yet. The gauge shows that. I can't understand what the trouble can
be, unless--" He paused in his remark and uttered an exclamation. "I've
found it!" he cried.
"What?" demanded the aeronaut.
"Some of the fuses blew out. I turned on too much current, and the
fuses wouldn't carry it. I put them in to save the motor from being
burned out, but I didn't use heavy enough ones. I see where my mistake
was."
"But what does it mean?" inquired Mr. Damon.
"It means that we've got to walk back home," was Tom's sorrowful
answer. "The car is stalled, for I haven't any extra fuses with me."
"Can't you connect up the battery by using some extra wire?" asked Mr.
Sharp. "I have some," and he drew a coil of it from his pocket.
"I wouldn't dare to. It might be so heavy that it would carry more
current than the motor could stand. I don't want to burn that out. No,
I guess we'll have to walk home, or rather I will. You two can stay
here until I come back with heavier fuses. I'm sorry."
Tom had hardly ceased speaking, when, from around the turn in the road
proceeded a voice, and, at the sound of it all three started, for the
voice was saying:
"Now it ain't no use fer yo' to act dat-a-way, Boomerang. Yo' all ain't
got no call t' git contrary now, jest when I wants t' git home t' mah
dinner. I should t'ink you'd want t' git t' de stable, too. But ef yo'
all ain't mighty keerful I'll cut down yo' rations, dat's what I'se
goin' to do. G'lang, now, dat's a good feller. Ho! Ho! I knowed dat'd
fetch yo' all. When yo' all wiggles yo' ears dat-a-way, dat's a suah
sign yo' all is gwine t' move."
Then followed the sound of a rattletrap of a wagon approaching.
"Eradicate! It's Eradicate!" exclaimed Tom.
"And his mule, Boomerang!" added Mr. Sharp. "He's just in time!"
commented Mr. Damon with a sigh of relief, as the ancient outfit, in
charge of the aged colored man, came along. Eradicate had been sent to
Shopton to get a load of wood for Mr. Swift, and was now returning. At
the sight of the stalled auto the mule pricked up his long ears, and
threw them forward.
"Whoa dar, now, Boomerang!" cried Eradicate. "Doan't yo' all commence
t' gittin' skittish. Dat machine ain't gwine t' hurt yo'. Why good
land a' massy! Ef 'tain't Mistah Swift!" cried the colored man, as he
caught sight of Tom. "What's de trouble?" he asked.
"Broke down," answered the young inventor briefly. "You always seem to
come along when I'm in trouble, Rad."
"Dat's right," assented the darkey, with a grin. "Me an' trouble am ole
acquaintances. Sometimes she hits me a clip on de haid, den, ag'in
Boomerang, mah mule, gits it. He jest had his trouble. Got a stone
under his shoe, an' didn't want t' move. Den when I did git him started
he balked on me. But I'se all right now. But I suah am sorry fo' you.
Can't I help yo' all, Mistah Swift?"
"Yes, you can, Rad," answered Tom. "Drive home as fast as you can, and
ask Dad to send back with you some of those fuses he'll find on my work
bench. He knows what I want. Hurry there and hurry back."
Eradicate shook his head doubtfully.
"What's the matter? Don't you want to go?" asked Mr. Sharp, a trifle
nettled. "We can't get the car started until we have some new fuses."
"Oh, I wants t' go all right 'nuff, Mistah Sharp," was Eradicate's
prompt answer. "Yo' all knows I'd do anyt'ing t' 'blige yo' or Mistah
Swift. But hits dish yeah mule, Boomerang. I jest done promised him dat
we were gwine home t' dinnah, an' he 'spects a manger full ob oats. Ef
I got to Mistah Swift's house wid him, I couldn't no mo' git him t'
come back widout his dinnah, dan yo' all kin git dat 'ar car t' move
widout dem fusin' t'ings yo' all talked about."
"Bless my necktie!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "That's all nonsense! You
don't suppose that mule understands what you say to him, do you? How
does he know you promised him his dinner?"
"I doan't know how he know, Mistah Damon," replied Eradicate, "but he
do know, jest de same. I know hit would be laik pullin' teeth an' wuss
too, t' git Boomerang t' start back wid dem foosd t'ings until after
he's had his dinner. Wouldn't it, Boomerang?"
The mule waved his long ears as if in answer.
"Bless my soul, I believe he does understand!" cried Mr. Damon.
"Of course he do," put in the colored man. "I'se awful sorry. Now if
it were afternoon I could bring back dem what-d'ye-call-'ems in a
jiffy, 'cause Boomerang allers feels good arter he has his dinnah, but
befo' dat--" and Eradicate shook his head, as if there was no more to
be said on the subject.
"Well," remarked Tom, sadly, "I guess there's no help for it. We'll
have to walk home, unless you two want to wait until I can ride back
with Eradicate, and come back on my motor cycle. Then I'll have to
leave the cycle here, for I can't get it in the car."
"Bless my collar button!" cried Mr. Damon. "It's like the puzzle of the
fox, the goose and the bag of corn on the banks of a stream. I guess
we'd better all walk."
"Hold on!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp. "Is your mule good and strong,
Eradicate?"
"Strong? Why dish yeah mule could pull a house ober--dat is when he's
got a mind to. An' he'd do most anyt'ing now, 'ca'se he's anxious t'
git home t' his dinnah; ain't yo' all, Boomerang?"
Once more the mule waved his ears, like signal flags.
"Then I have a proposition to make," went on the balloonist. "Unhitch
the mule from the load of wood, and hitch him to the auto. We've got
some rope along, I noticed. Then the mule can pull us and the runabout
home."
"Good idea!" cried Mr. Damon.
"Dat's de racket!" ejaculated Eradicate. "I'll jest sequesterate dish
year load ob wood side ob de road, an' hitch Boomerang to de auto."
Tom said nothing for a few seconds. He gazed sadly at his auto, which
he hoped would win the touring club's prize. It was a bitter pill for
him to swallow.
"Towed by a mule!" he exclaimed, shaking his head, and smiling
ruefully. "The fastest car in this country towed by a mule! It's tough
luck!"
"'Tain't half so bad as goin' widout yo' dinnah, Mistah Swift!"
remarked Eradicate, as he began to harness the mule to the electric
runabout.
Boomerang made no objection to the transfer. He looked around once or
twice as he was being made fast to the auto and, when the word was
given he stepped out as if pulling home stalled cars was his regular
business. Tom sat beside Eradicate on the front seat, and steered,
while the colored man drove the mule, and Mr. Sharp and Mr. Damon were
in the "tonneau" seats as Tom called them.
"I hope no one sees us," thought Tom, but he was doomed to
disappointment. When nearly home he heard an auto approaching, and in
it were Andy Foger, Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey. The three cronies
stared at the odd sight of Boomerang ambling along, with his great ears
flapping, drawing Tom's speedy new car.
"Ha! Ha!" laughed Andy. "So that's the motive power he's going to use!
Look at him, fellows. I thought his new electric, that was going to
beat my car, and win the prize, was to be two hundred horse power.
Instead it's one mule power! That's rich!" and Andy's chums joined in
the laugh at poor Tom.
The young inventor said nothing, for there was nothing he could say. In
dignified silence he passed the car containing his enemies, they,
meanwhile, jeering at him.
"Dat's all right," spoke Eradicate, sympathizing with his young
employer. "Maybe dey'll 'want a tow derselves some day, an' when dey
does, I'll make Boomerang pull 'em in a ditch."
But this was small comfort to Tom. He made up his mind, though, that he
would demonstrate that his car could do all that he had claimed for it,
and that very soon.