A BLOCKED ROAD
"Oh! Ah! Um!"
"Who said get up?"
"Gee-whiz, but I'm tired!"
"So is the auto--rubber tired."
"Joke! Ha! Ha! Everybody snicker!"
The three chums turned over on their bunks in the _Last Word_, and
looked one at the other.
"Well, if you fellows are going to lie abed all day, I'm not!" exclaimed
Paul, he and his two companions having just indulged in the little
morning "roundelay" I have used to introduce this chapter. He sprang
from the bunk.
"'Up, up, Lucy!'" he quoted. "'The sun is up, and I am up too!' First
reading lesson. Come on, fellows!" and he pulled the covers from Dick.
"It's too comfortable here," said that youth, gazing at the ceiling of
the car where the electric light was yet glowing. Reaching out his hand
Dick switched it off. "And yet I suppose we might as well get up," he
went on. "Innis, you're nearest to it, turn on the stove, will you, and
set the coffee to boiling? Then we'll have grub and see what the day
will bring forth."
A storage battery in the car furnished current for the stove. The
coffee had been put in the pot the night before, with cold water on it,
and now all that remained was to shove it over on top of the electric
stove, and set it boiling by the turn of a switch.
"The simple life--this," remarked Innis, as he complied with his host's
request. Then, as the grateful aroma of coffee filled the car the lads
dressed, and were soon washing at a nearby spring, which they had
discovered the night before in a patch of woods, not far from the road.
Breakfast over, they were once more ready to proceed. Dick started the
car from his seat, and sent it going at a moderate pace. They had no
special objective point in view, and were content to take dinner
wherever noon found them.
Through villages and towns they passed, attracting no little attention
as they scurried along. Once an officious constable warned them against
speeding.
"You went a leetle too fast comin' in," he said, throwing back the lapel
of his coat to display his badge. "You fellers want t' be careful goin'
out."
"All right," agreed Dick, with a laugh. "We'll be careful. Are the roads
pretty good now?"
"Yep. Fine! That's why I warned you fellers. It's a great temptation t'
speed. Only last week a feller was caught outside of town. We've got one
of the finest speed traps in the country," he went on proudly. "I don't
s'pose I ought t' tell you 'bout it, but I will, seein' as how you're
strangers, an' that's a kind of car we don't often see around here.
"It's like this. I've got a man stationed near the fust mile post
outside th' village proper. When he sees an auto comin' he marks down
th' time it passes him, and then he telefoams to another of my men at
the next mile post.
"Now if that there auto gits to the second mile post too quick, we know
it's exceedin' th' speed limit, so we jest stop 'em an' collect th'
fine. Squire Bradley is always ready t' hear the case. He'll come in
from his hay field, or even stop plowin', t' hold court."
"I suppose it pays him," remarked Paul, while Dick was seeing about
renewing the supply of gasoline, a stop having been made for that
purpose.
"Oh, yes, it pays middlin' well," admitted the constable. "Th' Squire
gits half th' fine, an' th' other half goes t' me an' my assistants."
"How do you stop the speeding autos when they get to the second mile
post?" Innis wanted to know.
"Ha! That there's my patent. I've got a long rail fixed on a sort of
hinge, like an old-fashioned well-sweep, you know. When an auto ain't
exceedin' the legal rate of speed the long pole sticks straight up in
the air alongside the road. But when my man at the first mile post
telefoams to Hank Selby at the second post that a car is comin' too
fast, Hank jest yanks on a rod, down comes th' pole across th' road, an'
th' car can't go on no further."
"I see," laughed Paul. "Hank yanks!"
"That's it! I see you fellers will have your leetle joke!" and the
constable laughed with them.
"But supposing the car didn't stop?" asked Innis. "That pole across the
road wouldn't be hard to break; would it?"
"No, I don't s'pose 'twould. But when they bust that pole they're
bustin' th' law, too, an' that's a more serious offence. Squire Bradley
jest doubles th' fine then."
"But how do you catch the autoists once they are past the second mile
stone, supposing they have broken the pole?" Paul asked, much interested
in this sort of a speed trap.
"That's easy," said the constable. "As soon as any one is rash enough t'
bust our pole, Hank jest telefoams to his brother, who lives down the
road a piece. His brother runs out and drops a lot of boards, with sharp
nails in 'em, in th' dust. An auto ain't goin' fur after it runs over a
few sharp pointed nails. No, sir-ee!"
"You 'nail' 'em; is that it?" asked Innis.
"That's what we do. We nail 'em! Ha! Ha! I never thought of that. It's
another joke, by ginger!"
"It must be pretty expensive, keeping two telephones working," suggested
Paul.
"Oh, the county pays for it," said the constable. "Anyhow, if they
didn't, we could clear enough on fines to do it. Squire Bradley could
raise the rate a leetle."
"I suppose so," agreed Innis, "Well, we'll be getting on, I guess," he
added, as Dick came out of the garage after paying for the gasoline.
"An' don't try any speedin'," cautioned the representative of the law.
"We won't!" promised Dick.
Their trip up to noon was uneventful. They were in a section where good
roads abounded, and a local automobile club had posted the route so they
did not have to stop to ask their directions. They went to a local
country hotel for dinner, as the place was well advertised as giving a
good chicken and mushroom dinner, and this was a menu that the boys did
not care to undertake on their small electric stove.
"Jove! That was good!" exclaimed Dick, as they came out of the hostelry.
"That's right," agreed Innis.
"I think I'll see if they have a couple of roast fowls that we could
take along with us, and eat cold for supper," suggested the young
millionaire, and he carried out his plan, a brace of well browned
chickens being stowed away in the "kitchen" locker.
Late that afternoon they came to a place where two main roads forked.
Either one would take them to the place where they had decided to stay
over night.
"This one's a little the shorter," explained a farmer, whom they asked
about it, "and it's a good road. The only thing is that there's no
crossroad leading from it for about eight miles, and you may git stuck
in the middle, and have to come back."
"How so?" asked Dick.
"Why Bill Simpson is moving his house along this road. He's changing the
location, and he may not be off the highway by the time you get there. I
did hear, though, that he expected to have it off the road and on the
new foundation by night."
"Well, we'll take a chance," said Dick. "If the house blocks the road
maybe we can go around it."
"Maybe," assented the farmer, and the big car went on.
They had nearly reached the end of the fine, level road, and were
congratulating themselves on soon getting to a fair-sized town where
they intended to put up for the night, when Paul, looking ahead,
exclaimed:
"There it is. Just our luck!"
"What?" inquired Dick from the back of the car, for Innis was steering.
"Bill Simpson's house--it's blocking the whole road, and it looks as if
the men had given up work for the day, for they're getting a red
lantern ready to display. We can't get past, Dick."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed the young millionaire. "We'll have to turn around and
go back, I guess. Lose a lot of time, too. Drive up, and let's see what
it looks like."