AN UNWILLING PILOT
Frank Allen felt a sudden thrill shoot through his entire body
when the gruff command to change his course was growled into his
ear.
He had not been at all inclined to look upon these two travelers
in a favorable light; but this was the first intimation he
received that they might be even worse than they appeared.
Of course he made no immediate reply. In fact, he was still dazed
by this puzzling turn in the strange little adventure. He had
believed that in helping the luckless victims of the accident he
was furthering his own interests, in that he would reach home long
before his chums. Now it began to look as though he had jumped
from the frying pan into the fire.
He tried to collect his thoughts and reason out the case. Why
should these men so seriously object to returning to the town of
Columbia? Had they been guilty of doing something unlawful that
made the place dangerous to them?
Once before Frank had become mixed up with a clique of men for
whom Chief of Police Hogg had warrants. He remembered the
circumstance clearly, and wondered whether history could be about
to repeat itself again.
And then, why should the mention of Doctor Shadduck's name affect
them both in that strange fashion? Did they know the foremost
physician of Columbia, a man of considerable property interests,
and said to be the wealthiest man in the county?
"The car!"
Frank came near exclaiming these words aloud, so abruptly did they
form in his mind! Now he remembered why the automobile had somehow
seemed familiar to him, and why Bones had shown such interest in
it.
"Bones thought it was an exact duplicate of the new machine his
father bought last week; but I believe it's the doctor's own car!
These men have stolen it for some reason or other," Frank was
thinking, even while he stared ahead at the white road over which
they were moving at a fair rate of speed.
His pulses throbbed with the excitement, even more than when
Clifford threatened Columbia's ten-yard line with an irresistible
forward rush that morning. Hearing the men talking behind him he
strained his ears to try and catch a few words, in the hope that
he might discover what it all meant.
"It's all your fault, Bart," grumbled the injured fellow.
"I don't see how you make that out, Jim?" replied the other,
gloomily.
"I wanted to turn and head for Fayette, but you said the other
road was best," the heavier fellow went on.
"I think so yet, but who'd expect that we'd have such a wreck? I
tell you, man, we're mighty lucky to come out of it as well as we
did," said the other.
"That's easy for you to say, but my arm feels tough. I reckon
she's broke sure enough. That means delay and trouble, just when
things looked so bright. It's a shame, that's what. Sure we didn't
lose it in the accident, are you, Bart?"
The lighter man seemed to again feel down at his feet.
"I tell you it's there safe and sound. Given four hours, and we'll
be where they ain't going to find us. Keep up your nerve, Jim.
Luck's still with us, I know," he went on.
"Is it? Well, I'm beginning to suspect there's been a turn in the
tide. When the machine took the bit in her mouth and slammed us up
against that tree, it looked to me like we had run into bad
weather. But we must be near that road, Bart!"
"Reckon it's just ahead now; I remember that big tree we passed
comin' out," replied the uninjured one of the precious pair.
"All right. Don't let the kid get past. Seems to me he's some
slippery. I seen his face somewhere before," grunted the sufferer.
"Course you did. He was the feller that captained them boys this
morning in the game we watched while waitin' for our chance," said
the other.
"He was, hey? Well, you want to keep your eye on that boy, then,
mark me. They told me some high-colored yarns about him at the
inn."
Frank was not in the least elated over hearing himself praised. In
truth, just then he was wrestling with the puzzling problem
presented by his strange situation.
What "chance" did the man called Bart refer to? Who were these
mysterious men, and what did they have in the bottom of the
tonneau that seemed so precious in the eyes of the fellow who was
badly hurt? He could, for the time being, forget his severe
injuries to make inquiries concerning this package, hence it must
be of considerable value.
Were they thieves? If this was indeed the new machine belonging to
Bones' father, it looked suspicious, to say the least.
What could he do? They wanted him to take them somewhere, and in
a hurry, too; were they in full flight, desirous of getting to a
certain place before the pursuit became too fierce?
If Frank shivered while considering these momentous things, it
could hardly be wondered at. The situation was one to give
concern to the bravest man, and, after all, he was but a boy,
though possessed of more than the average courage for one of his
years.
"There's the road on the left, kid!" suddenly exclaimed Bart.
"I see it, sir," replied the young pilot of the damaged car,
trying to keep his voice as steady as possible, in the hope that
the two men might not suspect that he had guessed their secret.
"Be sure and turn in; and be careful not to upset us," continued
the other.
"Yes," said the wounded fellow, quickly, "one accident is more'n
enough for me, to-night. Hey, that's a good sweep around,
youngster; I see as you know your business all right. Now, are we
headin' straight for Fayette?"
"Yes, sir," replied Frank, readily.
"How far is that away from Columbia?"
"Twelve miles, about, sir, as the road goes," answered the new
chauffeur.
"We strike the railroad at Fayette, don't we?" continued Bart,
eagerly.
"There is one there, but not the same that comes to Columbia," and
when he said that Frank was certain that one of the men chuckled;
it must have been Bart, for the wounded fellow was in no mood for
merriment, what with his groans and grunts that signified pain.
"That's right. And we're glad to hear it. Wouldn't give a cent for
a chance to ride back to your slow old town. New York's good
enough for us, hey, Jim."
"It sure is, if I ever live to get there. Wish there happened to
be a doctor on this here road somewhere," said the second
traveler.
"What for?" asked his comrade, quickly. "I'd get him to take a
look at this arm, that's what."
"Huh! dangerous business, Jim. Don't you think of it 'less it's
just positively necessary. Delays might cost us dear. There's
going to be a big hello when our old friend gets out of that
sleep."
Frank realized that the men were apparently getting to that point
where they cared little how much he knew. They evidently meant to
make such use of him as seemed necessary. Once he thought that it
might be a good thing if he pretended to lose control of the car,
just as Jim had evidently done. Then he changed his mind, and for
two very good reasons.
In the first place, there was always the risk of being hurt
himself in the consequent collision with a tree. Frank could not
forget that his duty was to keep himself in good condition, so
long as his school looked to him to lead his team to victory in
the triangular series of football contests. Then, again, he
seemed to feel that it would be cowardly to desert the post into
which a strange accident had thrust him.
Better stick it out until something cropped up whereby he could
make at least a try to defeat the purposes of these two rogues. He
had heard enough to want to know more. Probably they would not
seek to injure him so long as he made no positive move toward
interfering with their game, whatever that might be.
They were talking again. Once more he strained for hearing in the
hope of picking up further clues that would enlighten him with
regard to their aims.
"It's the safest way, Bart. If they can't get word to Fayette
till mornin', we can give 'em the laugh. You've just _got_
to do it," said the wounded man, with a degree of force that
marked him as the head of the expedition.
"All right, if you say so, Jim. I'd a done it up the other road,
if you hadn't banged us into that tree. Say when," replied the
other, who was moving about as though doing something.
Frank managed to take a swift look over his shoulder. It only
puzzled him the more, for Jim seemed to be fastening something
about the lower part of his legs. What could he want leggings for?
And what could it be that Jim insisted he should do?
"I know of a doctor about two miles further on here," Frank said,
thinking that it might delay matters some if they concluded to
stop over; at least give him a chance to either escape, or render
the machine useless for further flight.
"You do, eh? Well, tell us when we get there, and p'raps I might
make up my mind to hold over a bit. Are you ready, Bart?" said the
heavier man.
"Yes. As well here as anywhere," came the reply.
"Bring her to a stop, kid; here, alongside this telegraph pole.
That's good. Now, Bart, do it!"
Frank felt more than curious to know what the men had in mind. As
soon as the car came to a stand the lighter man, who had not been
hurt in the accident, jumped rather clumsily from the tonneau.
Frank noticed this with surprise, for up to now he had looked upon
the other as rather agile. Could he have been injured after all,
and was just beginning to feel the effect of his headlong plunge
into the bushes?
Judge of his utter amazement when he saw Bart at once seize hold
of the nearby telegraph pole and begin to climb up with a series
of sturdy kicks that apparently glued each foot in succession to
the pole. Frank no longer wondered, for he knew that the man had
been strapping a pair of lineman's climbing spurs to his legs when
bending down in the tonneau of the stolen car!