MATCHING WITS
"After him, Bart! We mustn't let him get away!" exclaimed the
stout man, as he hurriedly climbed out of the tonneau of the
automobile.
"Not me! I ain't hankering after a cold bath just now," answered
his companion, who had jumped out on the other side, and was
running around.
"Run down to the bank and get hold of him, if you can!" continued
Jim, harshly.
This seemed at least reasonable, and Bart had no objections to
trying to do something along such lines.
"Don't see anything of him here!" he announced a minute later, as
he appeared below, and ran along the bank of the stream.
The moon had gone behind a cloud, as though wishing to favor the
escape of the unwilling chauffeur.
"Hang the luck! Well, come up here then, and we'll put off. P'raps
I might manage with my other arm. We can't hang around here, with
time flying. The town's close by. Hurry up, Bart!"
But when Bart reached his side, he found the other breathing out
threatenings in a fashion that denoted a new difficulty.
"What's wrong now?" asked the slim man, who was panting from his
exertions.
"That clever little scamp has dished us, that's what; carried away
the spark plugs of the machine with him, and without them we might
as well try to move this bridge. I was a fool to trust him one
second. We've just got to find him, Bart, that's all there is to
it! Either that, or walk into Fayette, and perhaps lose that
train. Come on back again. You take one side, and I'll look over
the other. He's there, sure, unless he got drowned, and that I
don't imagine is the case."
Bart was fully awake to the great necessity of finding the boy,
after hearing what Frank had done as he jumped from the car. Each
of them hurried around the approach of the bridge, and slipped
down the bank.
"Any sign of him over there, Jim," called Bart, as he pushed his
way into the bushes and reeds that bordered the creek.
"Don't see none yet, but keep on further down. Like as not as he
just drifted with the current a bit, and then crawled out. Get
him, if you find his tracks, I feel like I could do something to
him for playin' this trick on us. Hello!"
"What's doing, boss?" called the other.
"Here's where he crawled out, all right," replied Jim, excitedly.
"How d'ye know it is?" demanded the other, across the water of the
creek.
"It's all wet. I'll follow it up, and nab him in a dozen winks. He
can't have got far away, I reckon."
"What d'ye want me to do, Jim?" called his companion, after a
wait.
"Go back to the bridge, and cross over here."
"All right. Keep right after him. The moon's going to come out
again right soon. If you see him, give him a shot to make him
stop!" and shouting in this vein, Bart turned to retrace his steps
back to the bridge.
He was somewhat out of wind by the time he had half mounted the
abrupt bank that served as the base for one end of the bridge. All
at once he heard a sound that electrified him. It was the cranking
of the car!
"Hi, Jim! here he is! Come back! He's going to leave us in a
hole! Head him off up the road there! Hurry, Jim, hurry!"
The climbing man could hardly finish shouting, so short was he of
breath; but perhaps it may have been the absolute necessity for
prompt action that forced him to continue the balance of the sheer
ascent.
The answering cries of his companion welled up from somewhere down
along the side of the stream, and the crash of his plunging
footsteps could be heard as an evidence that he understood the
danger menacing them.
As Bart pulled himself up alongside the approach to the bridge he
saw a boyish figure spring into the fore part of the damaged car.
Then came a series of quick pulsations that announced the fact of
the machine working, as if nothing had ever been the matter.
"He's going off with it, Jim! Stop him! He's carrying our stuff
with him! Head him off! Puncture a tire for him! Give him a shot,
Jim!" howled to the thoroughly demoralized Bart, starting to
stagger after the retreating automobile himself, with his hands
extended, as though he would fain seize hold upon it.
"Good-bye, fellows; your cake is dough!" shouted the one who
sprawled in the front seat of the car and guided its destinies.
Frank had purposely thrown on considerable power in making his
start, for he knew what if ever there was need of haste it was
right then and there. Jim was running ahead there, with the
intention of cutting him off, and little though he had seen of
the gentleman, he felt that he had no desire to prolong the
acquaintance further.
Now the friendly moon could no longer hold back behind that
floating black cloud, and with her first appearance Frank turned
an anxious face toward the spot where a violent agitation in the
brush announced the presence of the running Jim.
"Hold up there, boy! Put on the brake, or I'll----" but the rest
was unheard, for Frank had dropped as low as he could in the front
of the car, though still keeping his hands on that guiding wheel.
He heard the sharp discharge of a weapon, thrice repeated. His
heart seemed to come up almost in his throat, for this thing of
being under fire was a new experience for the young athlete.
Perhaps the man had tried to simply puncture the tire, although
this would in the end delay their departure. Frank never knew the
truth in connection with the firing.
Then, in another second or two, he realized that he had passed
beyond the zone of danger, with a clear road ahead of him!
"Hurrah!"
He could not help giving vent to his delight in this one shout.
Just half a mile further on another road branched off from the one
he was flying over. He remembered that by a circuitous way it
would eventually take him to Columbia, passing through first the
village of Stagers, and then a larger place known as Plattville.
His pulses were bounding with triumph as he let the car out notch
by notch. Why, after all, the smash could have done no serious
damage to the machine. What was fifteen miles when in such a
splendid traveler as this new auto of the good doctor's?
He made the turn, and presently dashed into the first village.
Here he stopped at a tavern long enough to make an examination, to
ascertain whether his supply of gasoline might be sufficient to
carry him home. He also wished to impress the fact of his having
been there upon the hotel keeper. In case anyone tried to cast any
doubts upon his story, it might be well to have evidence that he
had visited Stagers that night.
And during his brief stop Frank took occasion to look at the
object lying in the bottom of the tonneau, and which had seemed to
be especially valuable in the eyes of the two unprincipled men.
It was a common variety of grip, made of some good leather. He did
not bother opening the same, thinking that possibly Doctor
Shadduck might be better qualified than himself for that task, but
he placed it at his feet in front.
Once again Frank was on the move. He really hoped that nothing
would interfere with his reaching Columbia safely, now that
fortune had been so kind.
The road was not the best possible for a machine, and often he had
to slow up rather than take unnecessary chances for an accident.
Whenever he thought of the pair of rascals left behind, he
laughed. He felt that he could afford to loosen up a little after
such a strenuous time. But in his wet condition he found rapid
traveling rather unpleasant. True, he had borrowed a heavy coat
from the hotel man, to whom he had explained the case in a few
sentences; but in spite of this protection, he soon began to
shiver.
This compelled him to reduce speed still more. When he reached
Plattville the road would be better, and besides, he might find a
chance to get a drink of warm coffee or tea, if the eating-house
were open at such an hour.
Cheered by this thought, he set his teeth together, resolved to
stick it out to the end. But Frank was not apt to forget that ride
in a hurry.
It was now a quarter to ten. He found this out by striking a match
and looking at his watch, the moon having retired once more behind
the clouds. But Frank was under the impression that he must be
close to the town now.
"I believe I remember that windmill on the left, and the big water
tank on the hill. Yes, Plattville must lie down there in the
valley. Now to slip along the down grade. Just seven miles from
home; but I wish I was there now," he was saying, as he passed
over the crest of the elevation.
Yes, there were many lights in sight, and how they cheered him,
after his lonely ride along the wretched road from Stagers. He
felt like shouting again, so buoyant had his feelings become. What
would Bones say when he learned the truth; and doubtless Doctor
Shadduck would be pleased at getting his new car back, damaged as
it was.
So Frank, running downhill, crossed a bridge, and came into the
town of Plattville. On ordinary nights, doubtless, the place would
be quiet enough at this hour; but Saturday was different. Quite a
number of persons were on the main street, and cast curious
glances at the lone traveler who had entered the town.
Straight to the leading hotel Frank went. He had been here before,
and even taken a dinner once upon a time, when his club came over
to play the Plattville boys.
A small-sized crowd stood around the door of the bar room. Frank
could see that there seemed to be some signs of excitement, though
he did not suspect that it could have anything to do with him.
Hardly had he brought the car to a stop when some of the men
crowded around, and one of them shouted out:
"Hi! sheriff, here's the identical car you was readin' to us about
in that ere dispatch from Columbia. And here's one of the thieves
come right in to give hisself up! Surround the machine, boys;
don't let the feller escape; and look out, for they do say he's a
desprit case! come out here, Sheriff Tucker!"