HOW THE "RED SCOUT" CLIMBED DOBB'S HILL
The morning of the long anticipated day in the "Red Scout" dawned bright
and clear, and the campers who were to go were astir soon after dawn.
Most of them would willingly have dispensed with breakfast, but Mr.
Hollis insisted that they take their time and eat a hearty meal.
However, everything comes to him who waits, and at last they were ready
to start. It had been arranged that on their trip they were to stop in
town, and get supplies and some camp appliances that Mr. Hollis
required. Otherwise they were to do as they pleased, subject only to
Bert's authority.
The car was ready to start, and Bert had received Mr. Hollis' last
instructions.
"Well, fellows," said Bert, "pile in, and we'll start for town right
away. It rather looks now as though we might have a little rain before
the day is over. I don't like the looks of the sky over there any too
much, but we've got to have grub anyway, even if we have to go after it
in boats."
"Yes, or we might swim, I suppose," suggested Shorty, sarcastically.
"In that case, we'd let you try it, as its only a matter of twenty miles
or so each way, and see if you are as strong as your name," retorted
Bert, and Shorty subsided.
Meanwhile the others had taken their appointed places in the auto, and,
after adjusting spark and throttle levers, Bert walked to the front of
the machine and cranked the motor.
On the first turn, such was the beautiful condition in which he kept the
car, the engine started with a roar, and he quickly climbed into the
driver's seat and threw in the clutch. Without a tremor the big car
glided away as if moving on air, which indeed it was, in a way, if the
air in the tires could be counted.
With the ease of a driver who thoroughly understands his car, Bert
steered the machine around and between the bumps in the road, and even
one who had never ridden in an automobile before would have appreciated
his masterly handling of this machine.
Suddenly Tom, who, as usual, was riding in the seat beside Bert, leaned
over and said, "Say, Bert, do you suppose she would take Dobb's hill?"
Now, the hill to which Tom referred was one notorious in the
neighborhood. More than one gray-haired farmer had shaken his head
dubiously while inspecting the "Red Scout," and said, "Yes, that there
contraption may be all right on the level, and there's no getting over
the fact that it can run circles around a streak of greased lightning,
but I'll bet a dollar to a doughnut that it could never get up Dobb's
hill."
So Bert thought a moment before answering Tom's question, and then said,
"Well, that's an awfully steep hill, but the old 'Scout' has never
balked at anything yet, and I have a sneaking feeling that it wouldn't
even stop at Dobb's hill. However, there is only one way of finding out
about it, and that is to try it. What do you say, fellows, shall we try
it and show these people around here just what our machine can do?"
There was a unanimous chorus of assent from the other occupants of the
car, so at the next crossing Bert turned off the main road in the
direction of the famous Dobb's hill. Soon the hill itself loomed up in
front of them, and Bert opened the throttle a trifle. The machine
immediately picked up speed, but to the occupants of the machine it
seemed almost impossible that anything but an elevator could get up that
hill. It looked to them almost like a high wall. Bert, however, was
thinking more of the machine than of the hill. He had been gradually
giving the engine more gas, and now, when they were almost at the foot
of the hill, he realized that the moment had come to call forth the
supreme effort of the motor. He opened the muffler so as to get rid of
all back pressure, and opened the throttle to its widest extent. With a
bound and a roar the powerful machine took the hill, and to the boys in
the car it seemed as though they had some powerful, willing animal
working for them. Up the great machine climbed, with scarcely diminished
speed, the engine emitting unbroken and exhilarating music, or at least
that is what it sounded like to the tense boys in the auto. At last with
a final roar of the motor, and rumble of the straining gears, the
machine topped the hill and started on its long downward coast. Bert
threw out the clutch, and giving the engine a well-earned rest after its
strenuous work, allowed the "Red Scout" to glide rapidly and smoothly
down the hill.
Every boy in the car seemed half-crazy with delight over the performance
of their mechanical pet. Some even went so far as to pat the sides of
the car, and Bob expressed the general feeling when he said, "Well, I'd
rather be a camper and be able to say I held part ownership in a car
like this, than to be King of England."
The boys also realized that a lot of credit was due Bert for the success
of their climb, as even such a car as the "Red Scout" could never have
gotten up that hill without expert handling.
Down the long hill glided the "Red Scout" with constantly increasing
momentum, and long before they reached the bottom Bert had to apply the
powerful brakes with which the machine was equipped, and check its
speed.
Gradually he slowed it down to a safer, but less exciting speed, and at
the bottom eased in the clutch and the willing motor took up the load.
In the meantime the sky had taken on a more threatening appearance, and
while the happy-go-lucky boys in the tonneau gave it little thought,
Bert, to whom the care of the car and its occupants were intrusted, cast
more than one dubious and anxious glance in the direction in which the
storm might be expected to break. He hoped that they might at least make
the necessary trip to town and back before the rain could catch them,
however, and so held a steady pace, and they were soon rolling down the
main street.
Bert got out his list of the things they would need, and detailed the
boys to different stores so that they could get started again as soon as
possible.
Bert's last remark to them was, "Now, fellows, step just as lively as
you know how, and whatever else you do, don't come back drunk." This
raised a general laugh, as, it is needless to say, the boys had had no
such intentions.
Bert and Tom remained with the car, and while Bert said less than the
other boys about his love for the machine, it was easy to see that he
had a real affection for it, and took pleasure in cleaning and adjusting
it.
"Say, Tom," he called after a few minutes, "bring me grandfather, will
you?" Now, "grandfather" was not what that word usually means, but an
immense monkey-wrench, with jaws on it like a vise. It was called
grandfather for no particular reason that anybody knew of, but someone
had called it that once, and the name had stuck. The boys sometimes used
it to exercise and perform feats of strength with, so heavy was it. So
now, when Tom got it out of the tool box on the running board and
handled it with loving care, Bert took it from him, and for several
minutes was busy adjusting and tightening bolts and nuts around the
motor and transmission case. Finally he handed the wrench back to Tom
with a sigh of relief.
"Well!" he exclaimed. "There's a good job well done. I'll bet we
could take that hill now even a little better than we did, if that's
possible."
"I don't know about that," replied Tom, "this old Scout went up that
hill better than I thought it could, and I guess you ought to have as
much credit as the machine. After this I will back you and the 'Red
Scout' against all comers."
From this it may be seen that there was more than a little hero worship
mingled with Tom's love for Bert, and no wonder. Bert was the sort of
fellow that everyone had to admire and like.
By this time the boys had begun to return with their bundles and boxes,
and soon everything was safely stored in the tonneau, and the boys had
time to wonder how they were going to get themselves in too, as the
supplies seemed to take up about all the room.
Finally it was arranged that Jim and Dave should stay in the tonneau to
see that nothing was shaken overboard, while Bob and Frank ranged
themselves on the running board.
In this fashion they started, but it soon became evident to everybody
that they would never be able to get back to camp before the storm
broke, even with the help of the "Red Scout."
Thunder could be heard coming nearer and nearer, and soon they felt the
first warm drops of rain. Bert wished then that they had a top to their
car, but unfortunately the leather covering ordered by Mr. Hollis had
not yet arrived at the camp.
"What do you think we'd better do, Bert; make a run for camp or hunt
shelter around here?" asked Tom.
"Why, this road is pretty rough, and we can't make much speed," replied
Bert. "I guess we'd better hunt cover right away," as a vivid streak of
lightning split the sky, followed by a crash of thunder.
"We noticed an old barn over toward the right when we were on a botany
expedition the other day," said Frank, "and I think that if you swing
into that dirt road we're coming to, it will lead us right to it."
"Well, here goes," said Bert, and swung the "Red Scout" into the old
road. Sure enough, before they had gone a quarter of a mile they sighted
the old barn, and were soon snugly established in it. To be sure, the
roof leaked in places, but it was fairly tight, and what did a bunch of
hardy campers, in the pink of condition, care for a few drops of rain?
There was some hay left in the barn, and they lounged comfortably around
on this, talking and listening to the rain, which by this time had
increased to a downpour, and beat fiercely on the roof and sides of the
old barn.
The boys started a discussion about the hill-climbing feat of the "Red
Scout," and while all agreed that it had been a splendid performance,
Bob seemed to be inclined to sneer at Bert's handling of the car. He
firmly believed that he knew more about automobiles than Bert, and was
sometimes a little jealous of the praise given him by the other boys.
"Oh, I don't know," he finally remarked, when Tom remarked that some
people seemed able to coax more out of a car than others, "I don't see
that that makes much difference. I'll bet that if I had been running the
'Red Scout' this morning it would have gone up that hill just the same.
Why, when I used to run my uncle's car----" but here he was interrupted
by cries of derision, and Tom remarked:
"I suppose that if Bob had been running the 'Red Scout' he would have
run it up the hill backwards so that it would think it was going
downhill, and so got to the top without any trouble."
This sally caused a general laugh at Bob's expense and he subsided, but
was heard to mutter about "getting the right mixture," and "easing her
down to second speed," which nobody but Bert understood, but which
seemed to make him feel much better.
In justice to Bob, it must be said, however, that he did know quite a
little about automobiles, but usually lacked nerve when it came to
putting his knowledge into practice.
By this time the boys were all hungry, and as there seemed to be a
small chance of the rain letting up for a while, Bert proposed that they
have lunch. There was plenty of food in the automobile, and Bert started
the boys to fishing out crackers and jam.
Suddenly a thought struck him. "Say, fellows," he called, "how about
making some cornbread and having a real bang-up meal? We've got bacon
and all the fixings here, and we all know how to cook, thanks to our
experience as campers. I'll make the corn bread, and Tom here will fry
the bacon."
There was such a joyous and noisy consent to this plan that Bert could
not help laughing. "All right," he cried, "some of you fellows dive into
the car and bring out the new frying pan and the Dutch oven we bought
to-day. We'll build a fire on that slab of stone over there, and have
something to eat in next to no time."
This was no sooner said than done, and as the odor of frying bacon and
hot "corn pone" filled the old barn, the boys thanked their lucky stars
for the thousandth time that they had come on this camping trip.
In a short time everything was ready, and they seated themselves near
the fire. Tom dished out the sizzling bacon and steaming "corn pone."
Under the cheering influence of this feast even Bob Ward forgot his
grudge of the morning, and when he shouted, "What's the matter with
Wilson?" the resulting "He's all right!" almost lifted the roof off the
old barn.
Soon they had finished and cleared away the meal, and when they opened
the barn door were surprised and delighted to find that the sun had
struggled through the clouds and was now shining brightly. Quickly they
packed the tonneau, and were soon ready to start.
"All right, fellows, get to your places," sang out Bert, and soon they
were chugging out of the old barn that had offered them such timely
shelter.
Once outside and fairly on the disused road, however, it soon became
apparent that only with great difficulty could they make any progress at
all. The rain had converted the road into a quagmire, and although Bert
brought the "Red Scout" from third speed to second, and finally to
first, he saw that they must soon stop altogether, and indeed this soon
proved to be the case.
The faithful motor apparently had plenty of power, but the car sank into
the mud up to its axles, and the rear wheels simply turned around
without propelling it. Bert finally threw out the clutch and the "Red
Scout" stopped as though he had applied the brakes, so great was the
opposition formed by the mud.
"Well, this is a pretty fix, to be sure," exclaimed Bert. "We're going
to have the time of our lives getting this machine out. What you need
for this road is not so much an automobile as a boat. However, it
wouldn't speak well for us if we couldn't get our car out of this scrape
after all it has done for us, so let's get busy."
"That's all very well," said Jim, "but the question is, how are you
going to do it? This isn't exactly a flying machine, although it can go
pretty fast, and it seems to me that we will need something like that to
get us out of here."
"Say, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Jim Dawson," exclaimed Tom,
indignantly, "here you call yourself one of the crowd, and yet you are
willing to give up before you have fairly begun to try. That isn't the
right spirit."
"Oh, it's easy enough to talk," answered Jim, sulkily, "but I'd just
like to know how you are going to do it, that's all."
"Well, I can't say I have a plan right now, but I'm sure that our old
'Red Scout' isn't going to leave us in the lurch now after all it has
done so far," and here he patted the vibrating car lovingly.
Meanwhile Bert had been thinking deeply, and had finally hit on a plan.
"Here, some of you fellows, run back and bring me all the hay you can
carry from that barn, will you? We want to get out of here as soon as
we can, because Mr. Hollis will be anxious about us. Lively's the word."
Tom, Bob, and Frank ran back to the barn and soon reappeared, carrying
armfuls of hay. When they reached the car Bert took charge of it, and
placed it carefully under the rear wheels, and made a path in front of
each wheel for about six feet.
"If we can only get over to the side of the road and up on that grass
there," he explained, "we will be on firmer ground and can get better
traction. I only wish we had tire chains."
"What are tire chains, Bert, and what are they for?" inquired Frank.
"Why, you see how it is," replied Bert, "we have plenty of power, but
the wheels can't get a grip on the ground, and just skid around. If we
had a network of chains over the tires they would bite through the mud
to solid ground and get the grip we need. Understand?"
"Sure thing, and much obliged for the explanation," said Frank,
heartily.
By this time Bert had arranged things to his satisfaction, and now
climbed into the driver's seat, while the boys looked on expectantly.
Bert threw out the clutch, advanced the spark slightly, and opened
the throttle a few notches. Immediately the motor increased its
revolutions, and when it had reached a good speed Bert gently eased in
the clutch. There was a grinding sound of clutch and gears as the power
was transmitted to the rear wheels, and the "Red Scout" lunged forward.
The front wheels were so firmly embedded by this time, however, that
even the "Red Scout" was helpless. Again and again Bert raced his engine
and let in the clutch, and each time the machine made a gallant attempt
to free itself, but could never quite make it. Finally he reversed, but
with no better result. At last he gave up the attempt, and leaving the
motor turning over slowly, descended to hold a consultation with the
other boys.
"Have you any suggestions to make, fellows?" he asked, "I confess I'm up
a tree just at present. What do you say, Bob? Can you think of
anything?"
"Why, I was thinking," answered Bob, flattered by this direct appeal to
his vaunted experience, "that if we could dig out a path in front of the
machine up onto the grass we might get it out that way."
"Say! you've hit the nail on the head this time!" exclaimed Bert,
enthusiastically. "That's just what we'll do. Get that spade out of the
tonneau, will you Frank, and we'll get to work."
Frank immediately complied, and in an incredibly short space of time the
boys had a path dug in front of the auto down to hard gravel, and were
ready for another attempt to extricate their beloved car.
Bert climbed into his seat with a do-or-die expression on his handsome
young face, and repeated his former tactics, but this time with
greater success. The "Red Scout" surged forward with a roar, like some
imprisoned wild creature suddenly given its liberty. Bert took no
chances this time, but plugged steadily onward until he reached high,
firm ground. Here he stopped the panting machine, and waited for the
cheering boys to catch up.
They soon reached the faithful car, and quickly jumped into their
places. Before starting again Bert turned around and said, "Fellows, I
think we owe Bob a vote of thanks. All who agree please say 'Aye'."
There was a hearty chorus of "Ayes," and Bob flushed with pleasure at
this tribute from his comrades. He thought, and with reason, that he had
demonstrated his knowledge of automobiles to good advantage, as well as
his ability to meet emergencies.
By this time it was getting near dusk, and Bert knew that Mr. Hollis
would be worried over their continued absence. Accordingly, when he got
on to the main road, he threw the gears into high speed, and soon they
were bowling along at a rapid, but safe, pace toward their camp.
It would be hard to imagine a happier set of boys in the world than those
who sat in the big red automobile in the silence of good fellowship and
listened to the contented purring of the "Red Scout's" powerful motor.
As they revolved in their minds the exciting occurrences of the day, and
thought of other equally happy days yet to come, it seemed to them that
there was indeed nothing more desirable in life than to be campers with
such leaders as Mr. Hollis, Bert Wilson, and Dick Trent. It is safe to
say that they would not have changed places with any other set of boys
on earth.
"Say, Bert," said Jim Dawson, breaking the long silence, "that race is
as good as won already. I'm sure that with this machine and you driving
it, we couldn't lose if we tried. What do you think?"
Bert did not answer for a moment, and when he did his eyes twinkled
merrily. "Well, Jim," he said, "I don't know whether we'll win or not
and that 'Gray Ghost' is certainly some racer. From what I have seen of
our old 'Red Scout' to-day, however,--but there, I'm not going to say
any more just now. There is no use raising your hopes, and then perhaps
have nothing come of that in the end." And with that they were forced
to be content.
By this time they had almost reached the camp, and could see the smoke
of the fire. Soon they rolled smoothly into camp, and Mr. Hollis came to
meet them with a relieved look on his face. At first he seemed inclined
to blame them, but Bert soon explained matters to his entire
satisfaction.
The boys mingled with their comrades, and many were the exclamations of
wonder over their day's experiences. After a short rest, supper was
prepared, and while they all voted it delicious, still they claimed that
nothing had ever tasted quite as good as their lunch in the old barn.
As Tom and Bert were dropping off to sleep that night, Tom murmured
drowsily, "Say, Bert, did we or didn't we have a bully time to-day, eh?"
"Just bet your hat we did."
"Well, say, isn't the old 'Red Scout' about the greatest automobile that
ever turned a wheel?"
"That's whatever it is," concurred Bert, and dropped off to sleep with a
smile on his face, and the image of a big red automobile enthroned in
his heart.