DAN SPEEDWELL AT HIS BEST
Billy Speedwell, at the head of the other lads, leaped into the road and
sprinted to the spot where Maxey’s automobile had been thrown over the
embankment. They saw that the unfortunate youth had clung to his wheel;
but he had gone out of sight with the wreckage.
Their interest in and sympathy for Maxey blinded them to the further
actions of the maroon car and the three men in it. But Dan Speedwell,
coming back toward the scene of the catastrophe, noted well the conduct
of these men.
The chauffeur had made no proper attempt to avoid the collision; and now
he neither slowed down nor glanced back to see what had become of the
drab car and its driver.
When Dan Speedwell reached the place where his motorcycle rested beside
the road, in company with those of the other boys, the maroon car was a
mile away along the straight highway. There was plainly no intention on
the part of the three men to stop and inquire as to the damage their car
had done.
The other boys thought only of Maxey and his machine. Dan, angered by
the indifference of the other automobilists, had no intention of letting
them escape if he could help it. His mind was made up on the instant. He
seized his wheel and rolled it out into the road.
The balloon of smoke which trailed the flying maroon car was already far
down the road. It seemed impossible for a boy on a motorcycle to seek to
overtake that flying vehicle. But Dan knew that farther on the
automobile could not safely maintain its present pace, and he knew
likewise the speed which he could get out of his machine.
Dan and Billy Speedwell had owned their motorcycles a short time only;
but within that time they had learned to handle the machines with the
best. Both at the Compton motordrome, and in the Riverdale baseball park
the Speedwell boys had won high place in trials of speed. These races
are narrated in the first volume of this series, entitled: “The
Speedwell Boys on Motorcycles.”
Their Flying Feathers, the newest model produced by the Darringford
Machine Shops, in Riverdale, had been given to the brothers by Robert
Darringford whose life Dan and Billy had saved from a fire that had
destroyed a part of the machine shop plant.
Their parents were not in circumstances to give the boys such expensive
gifts as two hundred dollar motorcycles. Mr. Speedwell owned some dairy
cows and a few acres of land on the outskirts of Riverdale, and Dan and
Billy delivered the milk to their customers in town, even during the
school terms. When this story opened it chanced to be a Saturday
afternoon, or the Speedwell brothers would not have been idling here
with their friends on the river road.
What Dan knew he could do under favorable conditions with his Flying
Feather urged him to start in pursuit of the heartless trio who had left
Maxey Solomons and his wrecked car to their fate.
Before the other boys missed him, Dan’s machine was popping like the
explosion of an automatic gun, and he was several rods away from the
scene of the collision. The youth settled himself firmly in his seat,
opened his engine to almost its highest speed, and dashed away along the
road.
The lad did not sight that car, however, for some time. The river road
followed the winding course of the stream itself, and it was fringed
with woods for a good part of the way. There were few dwellings on the
highway between Riverdale and Upton Falls. The men in the car could have
chosen no better stretch of road in the county for escape. There were
likely to be few vehicles, and no constables at all at this hour of the
day.
It was perilous to run so fast on a public road, even when the way was
as smooth and well kept as this highway to Upton Falls. But the act of
those men in the racing automobile had roused Dan Speedwell’s
indignation. For all he knew, Maxey Solomons had met serious injury in
the wreck of his auto; the men guilty of the crime must be apprehended.
On this hard track the automobile ahead left no trail; but for the first
few miles Dan was positive that the maroon car had not gone into any
by-way. In fact, there were no by-ways save into private estates, and
those offered no escape for the fugitives.
The youth was quite sure that the men were strangers in the vicinity; he
was confident that the car was not familiar to the locality, at least,
for he and Billy were so much interested in the automobile game that
there was not a car in this end of the county that they did not know.
The three men were strangers. They had deliberately made it impossible
for anyone to read the numbers on the license behind the car. They were
evidently of that reckless class of automobilists who ride through the
country districts with regard for neither law nor safety.
A few moments only had elapsed since Dan started after the car when he
reached the first public cross-road—a highway turning away from the
river. But this road was macadamized, too, and offered no trace of the
automobile’s wheels. However, Dan did not believe the trio in the maroon
auto would turn aside, and he kept straight on.
Although the distance to Upton Falls was considerable, the pace of the
motorcycle ate up the miles speedily. Dan and his steed of steel came
soon to the outskirts of the town. The pedestrians he passed looked
after the flying boy with wonder. Dan reached the head of Main street
and, as he began its descent toward Market Square, and the hotel, he saw
an automobile standing before the wide porch of the latter building.
The maroon car! Dan was sure of it even at that distance. The trio of
reckless men who had perhaps injured Maxey Solomons had stayed their
flight at the Falls hotel.
Even as Dan sped down the street, however, he observed that the men he
followed were climbing into their car again. The blanket had been drawn
in over the back seat of the car and the movements of the three were
leisurely enough. They were probably convinced that there was no
pursuit.
The boy saw several men in the square whom he knew. One was a deputy
sheriff and this officer stepped quickly out into the street and held up
his hand for Dan and his Flying Feather to reduce speed.
Dan shut off his engine. The maroon car was just starting. The short man
at the wheel guided the auto carefully out into the road, and turned
toward the highway that led to Barnegat.
“Stop them!” cried Dan, waving his hand at the departing auto. “Arrest
those men, Mr. Polk!”
“What do you mean, Dan?” demanded the deputy, running along by the boy’s
side as the Flying Feather slowed down.
“Do as I say! They’ve perhaps killed a boy up the road. At any rate,
they smashed his automobile. Then they drove on, full tilt, and I
followed them.”
“Nonsense, Dan! Not those men,” cried Mr. Polk.
“Yes they did. I tell you it was a maroon car, with three men in it. I
was close enough.”
“To see the license numbers?” interrupted the deputy sheriff.
“They had the sign covered. But they came this way and I have followed
them too closely to be mistaken. Stop them, I say!”
“Dan! you don’t know who these men are,” gasped Mr. Polk, as the
motorcycle came to a halt and the excited boy leaped off.
“I don’t care who they are!” declared Speedwell, his righteous
indignation still inspiring him. “I saw what they did——”
“Are you sure? Can’t you be mistaken?”
“Didn’t they just come from Riverdale?”
“Ye-es. They came from that direction.”
“And I have been chasing them. There was no other car.”
“But the gentlemen are beyond suspicion of any such act as you relate,
Dan!” cried the deputy sheriff. “One of them is Thomas Armitage, of
Compton, and the other is Raleigh Briggs, who has offered the prize for
the cross-country run of a thousand miles which is to be arranged next
month—you’ve heard of it. Why, Dan, neither of them would allow his
chauffeur to commit such an act of violence as you relate.”