SOMETHING ABOUT ALL THE ROVERS
“Oh, look at that auto!”
“It turned over and over!”
“Do you suppose they are killed?”
Such were some of the cries that came from the occupants of Sam Rover’s
car as the machine came to a standstill. In the meanwhile the car run
by Tom Rover had disappeared around a bend of the main highway.
“This certainly looks bad,” murmured Sam Rover, as he leaped to
the ground, accompanied by Jack. Both ran back to the scene of the
accident, followed slowly and somewhat fearfully by Martha and Ruth.
“Oh, suppose they are killed or terribly hurt?” murmured the Rover girl
to her chum.
“If they are hurt we’ll have to do what we can for them,” answered
Ruth. “I wonder if there is any first-aid kit in your uncle’s machine?”
There had been several loud yells of alarm as the low, yellow car
turned over and over in the bushes beside the highway. Now, however, as
Jack Rover and his uncle approached, there was an ominous silence, the
spinning wheels of the machine coming to a sudden stop.
“There is one man!” cried the youthful major, and pointed into some
bushes where the legs of an individual were floundering around in the
air. A few seconds later the man righted himself and struggled to a
nearby tree, dazed and bewildered.
“There is another fellow――under the auto!” came from Sam Rover. “Come
on! Let us get him out before the machine has a chance to settle down
on him.”
The military training of uncle and nephew stood them in good stead,
and they knew exactly what to do in this emergency. Close at hand was
a rail fence, and while Sam Rover strained with might and main to keep
the yellow car from turning over on the man in the brushwood, Jack
obtained a fence rail. Rushing up with this, he propped it against the
machine to hold it in place. Then he and his uncle grabbed the unknown
man, who was almost unconscious, and dragged him to safety.
“Any more in the auto?” panted Jack, his quick efforts having almost
winded him.
“I don’t see any.” Sam Rover turned to the man who was leaning against
the tree. “Were there more than two of you?” he questioned.
“No!” bellowed that individual, glaring at the Rovers. “You’ve got us
in a fine fix, I must say!” he went on sourly.
“I think you fellows were as much to blame as any one,” answered Sam
Rover, curtly. “However, now is no time to quarrel. Your friend seems
to be pretty well used up.”
“I don’t think he’s hurt as much as I am,” said the other man, surlily.
“I was pitched out right on my head.” He was now rubbing the back of
his neck and his left shoulder. “For all I know, something may be
broken.”
Reasoning that the sour-faced individual would not argue in this
fashion if he were seriously hurt, Sam Rover turned his attention to
the other man, and Jack did likewise. The young major had noted a tiny
watercourse close to where the roads intersected, and now he ran to
this and brought back a capful of water. With this they bathed the
man’s face, so that he soon opened his eyes and sat up.
“Any bones broken?” asked Jack’s uncle, kindly.
“I don’t know.” The man pulled himself together slowly, and then
started to rise. “Gee, but my back feels sore! We certainly came a
cropper, didn’t we?” and he grinned sheepishly at the Rovers.
“I’m glad no one was killed,” said Sam Rover.
“See here! This is your fault,” howled the other man, coming forward
stiffly. “You had no business to be racin’ on this road.”
“I don’t think I was running as fast as you were,” answered Jack’s
uncle.
“I bet you wasn’t,” put in the other man, still grinning. He turned
to his companion in misfortune. “I told you, Ferguson, not to hit ’er
up quite so fast. Some time you’ll climb a stone wall and land in the
cemetery.”
“Oh, shut up, Billings,” growled the man called Ferguson. “I know what
I was doin’. It was this fellow’s fault, and he’s got to pay for the
damage done.”
“All right, make him pay,” was the good-natured comment from Billings.
Then suddenly he began to chuckle. “I wonder how much of the stuff we
smashed, Bill,” he went on.
“Shut your jaw, you fool!” cried Ferguson. “I say this fellow has got
to pay for the damage done.”
While the men were talking Jack and the two girls had moved closer to
the upset car to inspect it.
“Oh, look, Jack!” whispered Ruth, suddenly. “What is that running from
it? Is it the gasoline?”
“I don’t think so.” The young major made a closer inspection and began
to sniff the air. “It’s liquor. These fellows are carrying hooch.”
“Oh, did you ever!” murmured Martha, in horror, for she had never had
any use for liquor in any form.
“Say, you get away from that car!” burst out Bill Ferguson, in sudden
alarm. “Get away from there, I say!”
“They are carrying liquor. The car is loaded with it, Uncle Sam!” cried
Jack.
“Yes; and they have both been drinking,” answered his uncle quickly. He
turned to the two men. “If you want to make a police affair of this,
I’m willing,” he continued sternly. “But I’ll tell you right now,
you’ll make a poor showing in a police court.”
“Oh, call it off! Call it off, Ferguson!” interposed Billings, as
good-naturedly as ever. “I ain’t making no kick, and half the cargo
belongs to me at that. Do you want us to get in bad around here? Call
it off, I tell you!”
“I ain’t goin’ to have this car busted up for nothin’,” grumbled
Ferguson. “However,” he added hastily, “I suppose I’ll have to let it
pass. We ain’t got any witnesses against you.”
“You’ll be lucky if you both keep out of jail,” answered Sam Rover,
pointedly. “Carrying liquor around like that is prohibited, and you
know it. I advise you to get out of the business and stay out.” Jack’s
uncle turned to those with him. “Come on, and we’ll see if we can catch
up to your Uncle Tom.”
As the Rovers and Ruth left the vicinity of the accident the two men
watched them narrowly. On the face of Billings there was a look of
dismay, while Ferguson appeared more sour than ever. He glared sharply
at Jack.
“Maybe we’ll meet again some day, and under different circumstances,”
he remarked, with a scowl.
“What awful men!” was Ruth’s comment, as they climbed into the
automobile once more. “I’d hate to be alone and meet them.”
“What do you suppose they are, Uncle Sam? A couple of liquor runners?”
“More than likely, Jack,” answered his uncle. “But one thing is
certain――this load of liquor will never be delivered,” he added, with a
chuckle.
“I don’t see why they can’t obey the law and leave liquor alone,”
remarked Martha, as the car was backed to the other road and then sent
forward in the direction Tom Rover had taken.
“There is too much money in it, that’s why,” answered her uncle. “Some
of these rum-runners――or bootleggers, as they are called――have become
millionaires at the game. They sell all sorts of the vilest kind of
concoctions at exorbitant prices.”
They ran on for several miles and then reached a point where they found
the other automobile resting by the roadside.
“Didn’t know whether you were lost, strayed or stolen,” called out Tom
Rover, gayly. “What happened? Did you get a puncture or just stop to
pick buttercups?”
“No. We’ve been dabbling in spirits,” answered his brother, just as
gayly.
“And we knocked the spirits out in one round,” added Jack.
Then the story of the accident on the road was narrated, the others
listening with keen interest.
“Gee, I wish I’d been there!” declared Andy, wistfully. “I’m never
around when anything like that happens!”
“Never around!” cried Fred. “If I know anything about it, you’re
generally in the thick of it.”
“I’m glad neither of the men was seriously hurt, even if they are
bootleggers,” remarked Mary. “And as for their liquor, it served them
right to have it smashed and spilt.”
“I can tell you that one man, the fellow named Bill Ferguson, was
certainly mad,” said Jack to his cousins. “He looked as if he wanted to
chew us up.”
“You’d better keep your eyes open in case you meet him again,” remarked
Randy.
“Oh, it isn’t likely that we’ll ever meet again,” replied the young
major. But in this he was mistaken. He was to meet Bill Ferguson again
and under the most thrilling of circumstances.
Once more the two automobiles proceeded on their way. And while they
are thus rolling along let me take the opportunity to introduce my
characters more specifically.
In the first volume of this series, entitled “The Rover Boys at
School,” I introduced three brothers, Dick, Tom and Sam Rover, who
resided at that time with their Uncle Randolph and their Aunt Martha at
Valley Brook Farm, a pleasant country place in New York state. From the
farm the boys had been sent to Putnam Hall Military Academy and, later
on, to Brill College. Then they had gone into business in Wall Street,
New York, under the name of The Rover Company. Each had been married to
a boyhood sweetheart, and now the three families resided in adjoining
residences on Riverside Drive overlooking the beautiful Hudson River,
in New York City.
Not a long while after his marriage to Dora Stanhope, Dick had been
blessed with a son, John, who was always called Jack, and a daughter,
Martha, who was a year younger than her brother. To Sam Rover and his
wife Grace had come a daughter, Mary, and, about a year later, a son,
who was named Fred after an old school chum, Fred Garrison. Tom and his
wife, Nellie, were blessed with a healthy pair of boy twins, one called
Andy, after his grandfather, Anderson, and the other Randy, after Uncle
Randolph.
As they resided side by side, the younger generation of Rover boys, as
well as their sisters, were brought up very much as one large family.
At first the young folks were sent to some private institutions of
learning in the Metropolis. But presently Andy and Randy, as well as
the other boys, began to develop such a propensity for fun it was
decided to send them to some stricter institution of learning.
At that time Larry Colby was at the head of a military academy,
called Colby Hall. How Jack and Fred and the twins were sent to that
institution of learning and what happened to them, has already been
related in the volume entitled “The Rover Boys at Colby Hall.”
At the school the lads made many friends and also a few enemies. Among
their warmest chums were Gif Garrison, the son of their fathers’ old
friend, Fred Garrison, after whom Fred Rover was named, and Spouter
Powell, the son of the older Rovers’ chum, John Powell, always known as
Songbird because of his propensity for writing what he called poetry.
A term at Colby Hall had been followed by some winter adventures on
“Snowshoe Island.” Then the boys had returned to school to go into an
encampment “Under Canvas.” Later still the lads had gone on a great
“Hunt,” which had been productive of many adventures. Later still,
after another term at the military academy, where Jack had gradually
worked his way up from being an under officer to becoming major of
the school battalion and where Fred had risen until he was now the
captain of Company C, the four boys, along with several chums, had gone
into “The Land of Luck,” otherwise the great oil regions of Texas and
Oklahoma.
Shortly after this Spouter announced that his father had purchased a
place in the far West called “Big Bear Ranch.” The boys were invited to
visit this place and had a glorious time in the saddle and otherwise.
Colby Hall was located on Clearwater Lake not far from the town of
Haven Point. On the other side of the town was located Clearwater Hall,
a school for girls. Among the pupils at this institution were Ruth
Stevenson and also May Powell, a cousin of Spouter Powell. Jack and the
other boys speedily became acquainted with these girls, and later on
induced their parents to allow Martha and Mary to become pupils at the
place.
Gif Garrison had often been a guest of the Rovers. When his father
became the owner of a large bungalow at Big Bear Lake, the cadet
received permission to use the place for a summer outing. How Gif,
Spouter and the four Rover boys went to this resort, and what stirring
adventures they had there with wild animals and with some students from
a rival academy, is told in the volume preceding this, entitled “The
Rover Boys at Big Bear Lake.”
“We certainly had some wonderful happenings at Big Bear Lake,” Fred had
remarked when the boys were returning to Colby Hall after their outing.
“I don’t believe we’ll ever have more strenuous times than those.” But
in this surmise Fred was mistaken, as the pages which follow will prove.
It was just growing dark when the two automobiles entered Bridgeville
and pulled up at the leading hotel. Tom Rover had telephoned ahead,
and a substantial supper awaited the crowd, to which, it is needless to
state, all did full justice. In spite of the narrow escape during the
ride, all of the young folks were in the best of spirits.
“Now tell us what’s the rest of this secret,” demanded Fred. “Where are
we bound?”
“Don’t tell them, girls,” cried Tom Rover. “I’ll tell you what I’ll
do,” he went on, with that same merry twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll give
a five-dollar bill to the boy who first guesses where we are going to
stop to-night. Now, no more questions, only keep your eyes wide open.”
“Well, so far, for all I know, we may be headed for New York City,” was
Fred’s comment.
“Yes, and we may be headed for the north pole,” answered his fun-loving
uncle, gayly.
As soon as possible after supper, the automobile trip was resumed. Mile
after mile was reeled off in the semi-darkness, the powerful lights of
both machines making the road almost as bright as day. Travel seemed to
be light on the highway, and they made rapid progress for thirty miles
or more.
“Hello, here is a brand new concrete road!” exclaimed Fred presently.
“Looks as if it had just been opened.”
“Opened less than a week ago,” answered his uncle. “Now watch sharp if
you want to win that prize.”
On and on sped the two automobiles. Seven miles more were covered, and
then they turned sharply to the left and mounted a long hill thickly
wooded on either side. At the top of the hill both automobiles came to
a stop.
“Why, I declare!” stammered Fred. “It’s Dexter’s Corners! There is the
Swift River and there’s the railroad station at Oak Run! Why, we’re
going to Valley Brook Farm!”
“Right-o!” sang out his uncle. And then he tooted the horn three times.
At the same time the horn from the other automobile sounded out.
“Hello, they’ve discovered it too!” burst out Mary.
“Hurrah for Valley Brook Farm!” shouted Randy.
“What do you know about this?” came from the other automobile, in
Jack’s voice. “Some surprise, eh? We’re going to have our Thanksgiving
turkey on the farm.” And then he added quickly: “Will father and mother
be there?”
“Yes, they’re coming up on the early morning train to-morrow,” answered
his Uncle Sam.
In a minute more they had passed across the river in the direction of
Dexter’s Corners. Then they struck the old road leading to the farm
where great-uncle Randolph and great-aunt Martha resided, and where
Dick, Tom and Sam had spent so much time when their father, Anderson
Rover, had been lost in the jungles of Africa.
“My, but the old place certainly looks good to me!” cried Jack, as they
rolled up, both machines sounding their horns loudly.
The old farmhouse was glowing with lights, and now the front door
opened, revealing Anderson Rover and Randolph Rover and his wife
Martha. Then a side door opened likewise, and to the front came rushing
Jack Ness, the old hired man, and Aleck Pop, the colored man who had
been the Rovers’ servant for so many years.
“Hurrah for Valley Brook Farm!” shouted Randy, as he rushed forward to
embrace his Aunt Martha, and the other boys echoed the cry.