THE FAT MAN
“What is it? Have we arrived?” cried Professor Snodgrass, who had been
dozing on the rear seat and had been jolted awake.
“We hit something, didn’t we?” asked Bill Cromley.
“I’ll say we did!” ruefully murmured Ned, rubbing his head that had
come in contact with one of the upright supports of the windshield.
By this time the three boys were out in the rain, standing on the muddy
road and looking at the tree they had struck. It lay almost squarely
across the highway--a dead sapling which had broken in two at the crash
of the front wheels of the car.
“Um! Not as bad as I thought,” murmured Jerry when, in the light of a
powerful searchlight he carried, he had seen that neither front wheel
was damaged. “Not even a puncture.”
“The tree was rotten, or it might have been worse,” said Bob.
Ned had gone forward to walk around the obstruction and what he
discovered caused him to exclaim:
“That tree was brought here and left across the road on purpose. Some
one tried to wreck us!”
“Then it was Nixon’s crowd!” asserted Bob. “They knew we would have to
come this way to get to Newton, and they put this tree here. There’s
where they dragged it from!” he added.
He pointed to a place alongside the highway from which, it was evident,
the dead sapling had been brought.
“A dirty trick!” murmured Bill Cromley. “Wait until I get my hands on
that Noddy Nixon!”
“He’s far enough off by now,” said Jerry. “Well, fellows, if we can
get the tree out of the way we can go on, I guess. We don’t seem to be
damaged any.”
A hasty inspection of the car showed this to be true, and the boys,
with the help of the old miner, soon pulled the two pieces of tree out
of the way and well to one side, where no other motorist would be put
in danger.
[Illustration: THE BOYS PULLED THE TWO PIECES OF TREE OUT OF THE WAY.]
All this time the professor sat in comfort in the rear of the car,
going over some of his notebooks in the light of a small lamp which was
fastened to the back of the front seat. The scientist had turned it on.
The boys, knowing his ways, did not ask him to help them, and he was
so deeply interested in the bugs he had caught in the hay that he paid
little attention to what was going on around him.
Once more, through the storm and darkness, the Motor Boys proceeded
and succeeded without further incident in reaching Newton. There they
went to a hotel for the night. They soon discovered that Noddy and his
fellow conspirators were not at this place, and they surmised that
their enemies had gone on.
Somewhat to the surprise of the boys, the morning broke clear. Though
the storm kept up all night, the rain ceased about sunrise. With
cheerful spirits the travelers filed into the dining room, led, as was
usually the case, by the substantial Bob Baker.
“Let’s sit over there,” he suggested, pointing to a table near which
hovered a rather pretty waitress, albeit she was very stout.
“What’s the idea? Do you know her?” asked Ned, in a low voice.
“No. But she looks good-natured,” Chunky replied. “She won’t mind
getting me a couple of extra plates of wheat cakes and she’ll give me
plenty of maple syrup.”
“Oh, then there’s a method in your madness,” laughed Jerry. “All right,
old scout, go to it.”
The fat but pretty and jolly waitress welcomed them to her table,
and she seemed to give special attention to Bob, somewhat to the
latter’s embarrassment.
Professor Snodgrass caused a little disturbance when, after looking at
the bill of fare, he asked the girl:
“Do you have any _lymexylon navale_?”
“Er--wha--what’s that, sir?” she asked, reaching for the bill of fare.
“I say have you any _lymexylon navale_ out here?”
“I--I don’t believe we have any for breakfast this morning, sir. But
I’ll ask in the kitchen.”
“Dear me, it isn’t anything to eat!” exclaimed the professor, with a
laugh. “I was referring to the _serricorn_ beetle, which is allied to
the _Elateridæ_ and the _Buprestidæ_. It is called _lymexylon navale_
because of the damage its grubs caused in the Swedish dockyards at the
time of Linnæus. It is very destructive to oak trees, and as I noticed
some oak trees in front of the hotel, I thought you might have seen
some of the _lymexylon navale_ bugs.”
“No--no, sir,” and the girl moved away from the little scientist. “But
we have some navel oranges, if that’s what you mean.”
“Oh, no, my dear! Never mind! Bring me some soft-boiled eggs!”
With a look of relief on her face at having received an order which
she could understand, the girl hastened toward the kitchen, followed by
the smiles of the boys.
“I’ll say you picked a good one, Chunky,” remarked Jerry, after a most
bounteous breakfast. “Best little waitress we ever struck.”
“I’m coming here again on our way back,” Bob said. “She gave me more
maple syrup than I ever had with cakes before.”
“Yes, and you’ve got a generous sample of it on your face now!” teased
Ned, as the fat lad made hasty use of his napkin.
They settled their bill at the hotel and were again on their way.
Inquiry gave them information about concrete roads where they could
make good time and not be in danger of being mired because of the mud.
There was no trace of the Nixon crowd, and for this the boys were glad,
though Jerry said no one could tell when the bully might bob up on
their trail.
The plan of the Motor Boys was to proceed to Albany, and then take the
Mohawk Valley trail to Buffalo. From there they would go to Cleveland
and so to Chicago.
This program was followed, and aside from the usual incidents and
accidents of travel--once getting a puncture and again getting on the
wrong road--little of moment occurred until they reached Buffalo.
There Jerry found something wrong with the motor of his car, and they
had to lay over a day until repairs could be made.
It was in Buffalo that they again got a trace of Noddy Nixon. They
stopped at the Statler Hotel and, as a special favor, Professor
Snodgrass promised not to ask the waitresses or waiters about any
strange specimens he might desire.
“It’s all right in the country hotels,” Jerry said to the scientist,
“but in a big city one they wouldn’t understand you.”
“I see, Jerry,” was the answer. “But there’s no harm in my looking for
bugs, is there?”
“Oh, no, look as much as you like,” returned the tall lad.
Jerry went to the garage to get his repaired car. On his return to the
hotel he saw Noddy in the lobby talking to Bill Cromley.
“I’ll make it worth your while to come with us,” he overheard Noddy say
to the old miner.
Jerry hesitated, wondering what the answer would be. But if he had any
doubts as to the loyalty of Mr. Cromley, they were soon dispelled.
“Come on,” urged the bully, taking hold of the old miner’s arm. “I’ll
buy you a cigar and we can talk it over.”
“No, you won’t buy me any cigars!” cried the miner, shaking himself
free as Noddy tried to draw him toward the cigar counter. “The kind
you smoke must be made of skunk cabbage! Get that? _Skunk cabbage_ for
_skunks_!”
Noddy grew red in the face and hastily moved away followed by the
laughter of several men who had heard what was said.
“I guess we can depend on Bill,” remarked Jerry to Bob.
“We sure can. Noddy got an earful that time!”
The Motor Boys did not get another view of the bully’s crowd for some
days, though once there was evidence that Noddy was not far ahead. One
afternoon, when nearing Cleveland, they went through a small town. On
the outskirts they saw that several bottles had been smashed in the
road, the jagged bits of glass offering choice chances for punctures.
“Some more of their work!” exclaimed Ned, as Jerry carefully avoided
the danger. The car was stopped and the glass removed to protect others
who might follow.
The boys remained two days in Cleveland to rest, where they enjoyed the
sights, including Wade Park and the lake front. Then they began the
last leg of their auto journey, into Chicago.
From here they sent a message to Tinny, letting him know on what train
they were starting West. Jerry sold his car for a fair price, as the
lads did not know when they could come back, or even whether or not
they would reach Chicago again. And to store the machine, or hire some
one to run it back, would cost more than it would be worth. Professor
Snodgrass had decided to continue on for a time with his friends. He
said he felt much better.
“Well, we’re fairly on our way at last!” remarked Bob that night, as
they took their places in the sleeping car. “We’ll be in Montana in a
few days.”
“Yes, and I think we’ve given Noddy and his crowd the slip,” commented
Ned.
“It looks so,” affirmed Jerry.
They had five lower berths in the middle of the car, and after seeing
to the stowing away of their valises, the boys began to prepare for
sleep, for they had had a hard day.
“Aren’t you going to turn in, Professor?” asked Jerry, as he saw the
little man, with notebook and pencil, making his way to the smoking
compartment.
“I want to finish making a few entries, and then I’ll come to bed,
Jerry,” replied Uriah Snodgrass. “I won’t be long.”
The train slowly pulled out of the shed, followed a little later by the
second section. Until they reached Livingston, Montana, the boys would
travel on the steel rails. In Livingston they would be met by Tinny,
who would have a car for them, since they were going into a part of the
state inadequately served by railroads.
“And now for a good sleep,” sighed Jerry, with relief, as he stretched
out between the sheets. The steady motion of the train and the click of
the wheels over the rail joints was lulling him to slumber when he was
suddenly roused by the voice of the fat man in the berth above him.
Jerry well remembered the fat passenger, who had tried in vain to get a
lower berth from the porter. The colored czar of the sleeper had only
said:
“No, sah. We’s done filled up. No lowers.”
With a sigh the fat man had resigned himself to his fate, and it was
his voice that now echoed through the hitherto silent car as he cried:
“Get out! Get out! Porter! Conductor! I’m being robbed! Help!”
“Can this be a hold-up?” thought Jerry, reaching out to part the green
curtains.
At the same time he heard the voice of Professor Snodgrass in evident
distress.