TAKING CHANCES
There was a moment of stupefaction on the part of the boys at the
suddenness of what promised to be a tragedy. Then in a flash they
came to life.
"There was a girl in that auto!" cried Bob, as he dashed toward the
store, the others following close on his heels. "Hurry up, fellows.
She may be badly hurt."
"More likely killed," muttered Joe. "Don't see how any one could
live through that."
The store through whose windows the car had dashed was the largest
paint and hardware store in the town. The crash had resounded far
and near, and people were rushing toward it from all directions. The
boys reached the place first, however. They opened the door and raced
in, only to be greeted with a heavy volume of smoke, through which
flickered tongues of fire.
In the midst of a mass of débris was standing the wrecked auto.
The gasoline tank had been smashed by the impact, and the contents,
luckily a small amount, had been scattered over the place and come
in contact with a stove. The flames had spread to a large part of
the paints and oils and other inflammable materials that the store
contained. One of the clerks in the place had been hit and stunned
by the car, while two others, together with the proprietor and a
customer, were making desperate attempts to beat out the flames.
Bob's quick eye caught sight of a case of hand grenades standing near
the entrance, and his qualities of leadership came into play at once.
"Grab those grenades, you, Herb, and, you, Jimmy," he cried, "and
throw them where they're most needed. Come with me, Joe, and get
that girl out of the car. Quick!"
In a twinkling, Herb and Jimmy were hurling the grenades at the points
where the fire seemed to have gained most headway, while Bob and Joe
worked their way over the mass of boxes and wrecked fixtures to the
place where the runaway automobile had ended its mad rush.
The plate glass windows had reached almost to the ground, so that
the automobile with its great momentum had easily surmounted the
sills and reached nearly the middle of the store. One wheel had
been torn off, the windshield was shattered into fragments, and
the front of the machine had been crushed in.
In the driver's seat, still with her hand on the wheel, was the figure
of a girl. No sound came from her, and from the way her body drooped
forward, limp and motionless, it was evident that she was either
unconscious or dead. The boys feared the worst, especially when they
saw a stream of blood trickling down from a wound near her temple.
They worked at top speed, trying to reach her and draw her out from
the driver's seat. But the bent and tangled mass of wreckage held her
captive, and it was only after other willing hands had come to their
assistance that they were able to lift her from the car.
They bore her to a point just outside the door, and laid her on some
boxes that were hurriedly placed side by side. Her eyes were closed
and she was deadly pale, the whiteness of her face being accentuated
by the blood that dripped from her wound. She was a young girl,
apparently no more than twenty, and was quietly though tastefully
dressed. It was evident that she still breathed, and a slight
fluttering of the eyelids indicated that she was returning to
consciousness. Directly across the street was the Sterling House,
named after its proprietor, and Mrs. Sterling, a motherly looking
woman, who was among those who crowded around to look and help,
recognized the girl at once.
"Why, she's one of our guests!" she exclaimed. "Her name is Berwick--Miss
Nellie Berwick--and she's been staying with us for the last three
days. Some of you bring her across to her room, and some one else
hurry and get a doctor. Oh, there's Dr. Ellis now!" she exclaimed
with great relief, as she descried a tall figure in the crowd
hurrying to the side of the injured girl.
Under the doctor's directions, Bob and Joe, assisted by two others,
lifted the girl and carried her across to the hotel. And while they
are engaged in this work of helpfulness, it may be well for a better
understanding of our story to sketch briefly the careers of Bob and
Joe and their friends and the surroundings in which they had been
brought up.
Bob Layton was the son of Henry Layton, the leading druggist and
chemist of the town. Bob had been born and brought up in Clintonia,
which was a thriving town of about ten thousand inhabitants in
an Eastern state, about seventy-five miles from New York City. It
was located on the Shagary river, a stream that afforded abundant
opportunities for boating, fishing, and swimming, and was a source
of endless pastime and recreation for the boys.
Bob, at the time this story opens, was fifteen years old, of rather
dark complexion, and was tall and well-developed for his age. He was
vigorous and athletic and a lover of outdoor sports. His magnetism and
vitality made him a "live wire," and he was the natural leader among
the boys with whom he associated. His nature was frank and friendly,
and he was extremely popular with all those who were worth while. With
that he had a quick temper, which he had learned, however, to keep
under control. He never looked for trouble, but at the same time he
never side-stepped it, and any one who tried to bulldoze and impose
on him speedily found that he had picked out the wrong person.
Joe Atwood, Bob's special chum, was a boy of about the same age and
was the son of Dr. Atwood, a prominent and respected physician of
the town. Between him and Bob a warm friendship existed, and where
one was found the other was certain to be not very far off. He had a
fair complexion with merry blue eyes, that, however, could flash fire
on occasion. As has already been seen in his interchanges with Buck
Looker, he had a "quick trigger" tongue, and was likely to say a thing
first and regret it afterward, because he had gone perhaps too far.
Bob, as the more self controlled of the chums, served as a sort of
check on the impulsiveness of his friend, and had many times kept him
out of trouble. Joe shared Bob's fondness for athletic sports, and,
like him, was a leading spirit in the baseball and football teams
of the town.
Another thing that drew the boys together was their keen interest in
anything pertaining to science. Each had marked mechanical ability,
and would at any time rather put a contrivance together by their
own efforts than to have it bought for them ready made. It was this
quality that had made them enthusiastic regarding the wonders of the
wireless telephone.
Herbert Fennington was a year younger than the others and the son
of one of the principal merchants of Clintonia. He was lively, full
of fun and jokes and an all-around "good fellow."
Jimmy Plummer was fourteen, round, fat, lazy, and good-natured, and
a great lover of the good things of life. His father was a carpenter,
thrifty, respected and a good citizen.
As the boys all lived on West Main Street, a pleasant, shaded street
about a quarter of a mile from the business center of the town,
and within a few doors of each other, they were naturally thrown
much together both in the daytime and when in the evenings they
foregathered at each other's homes to study together the lessons for
the next day or to indulge in a few hours of fun and recreation.
The boys reached the hotel with their helpless burden and carried
the girl upstairs to her room, where Mrs. Sterling had everything
in readiness for her reception. Then the doctor took her in hand and
the boys withdrew to the lobby of the hotel, where they planned to
wait for a few minutes until the results of the doctor's examination
could become known.
Now for the first time since the excitement began they had time to
think of themselves, and when they looked at each other they could
hardly forbear from laughing outright at the picture they presented.
They were begrimed with smoke and grease, their clothes were rumpled
and soiled, and Bob's sleeve had been split from shoulder to elbow,
where it had been caught by a jagged strip of the material of the
wrecked car.
"You look like a stoker from the hold of an ocean steamer," gibed
Joe, as he looked at the unkempt figure of his friend.
"It's dollars to doughnuts that you look just as bad," responded Bob,
with a grin, as he made a break for the washroom, followed by his
chum. In the work of washing themselves, they found that it was not
only their clothes and appearance that had suffered. Each had a number
of scratches and blisters that they had not felt during the stirring
period of rescue but that now made their presence known. But these,
after all, were trifles, and they took them as simply a part of
the day's work.
They had only a few minutes to wait before the tall figure of the
doctor emerged from the sick room and descended the stairs. The
expression on his face reassured them, as they hurried forward to
hear his verdict.
"There's no danger," he declared, as soon as he came within speaking
distance, "though how she got off as easily as she did is almost a
miracle. The crushed front and top of the machine acted as a sort of
protection for her. The cut on the side of the face must have been
made by a splinter of flying glass from the windshield. What she is
suffering principally from is shock, and that's no wonder. Even one
of you rough and ready youngsters," he added with a smile, "would
find it a shock to go flying through a plate glass window."
"Sure thing," said Bob in reply. "I'm mighty glad to know that things
aren't any worse with her. I didn't think when we rushed in that we'd
find her alive at all."
"You boys deserve great credit for the quickness and decision with
which you acted," the doctor said gravely. "The fire might have
reached her in a few seconds more. I'm told that the auto caught
fire just after you got her out.
"By the way," he added, as he started to leave the hotel, "she has
been told of the way you rescued her, and she is very grateful. She
wanted me to let you come in so that she could thank you in person,
but in her present weakened state I didn't think it advisable. I told
her, though, that I would speak to you about it, and that if you so
desired you could call on her tomorrow."
"We'll be glad to," answered Bob, and Joe nodded his assent as the
doctor with a wave of the hand went down the steps.
The boys followed him a moment later and went across the street to
view the scene of the wreck. The fire had been put out, and the local
fire company, which had been summoned to the scene, was rolling up
the hose and getting ready to depart. The proprietor and clerks of
the store, with the aid of volunteers, had drawn the wreck of the
partly burned automobile from the store, and it stood in the street,
a melancholy ruin. It was clear that as an auto its day of usefulness
was over.
A large crowd still lingered about the spot, discussing the accident,
which by its unique features had thoroughly stirred up the town. It
was not often that an auto took a flying leap into a store and the
story of why and how it happened was sure to furnish a topic of
discussion for many days to come.
Bob and Joe, as two of the principal figures in the event, were
surrounded at once and besieged with questions. Many were the
commendations also that were showered upon them for their courage
and presence of mind.
"Oh, that wasn't much," protested Bob. "We just happened to be close
at hand when the auto went crazy. Anybody else would have done the
same."
"Of course they would," broke in Buck Looker, who with his cronies
was standing close by. "People are making an awful fuss about a
little thing, it seems to me. How about the work we did in helping
to put out the fire?"
"Did you?" asked Jimmy Plummer. "That's news to me. Look at your
hands and clothes. They haven't got a mark on them. I saw you
standing around outside, and you didn't lift a finger."
"You keep your mouth shut or I'll shut it for you," cried Buck
angrily. "You're getting altogether too fresh."
Jimmy was about to retort, but just then there came an interruption.