NODDY NIXON’S PLIGHT
“What can have happened to him?” asked Ned.
“That’s his auto; isn’t it?” demanded Bob.
“Surely,” answered Jerry. “No mistaking that; but Noddy isn’t in
it--that is unless he was knocked unconscious and has slipped under the
seat.”
“Let’s look,” proposed Ned. Jerry had brought their own car to a stop,
and as the three lads alighted, peering anxiously toward the stalled
machine for a sight of the bully, they were startled by hearing a groan
of distress.
“What’s that?” cried Bob.
“It sounded like--him!” declared Jerry.
“Oh--Oh fellows--help me--Oh I’m--I’m stuck!” exclaimed a woe-begone
voice.
Simultaneously our friends turned their gaze in the direction of the
cry. It came from a slimy black pool of mud and water, off to the left
of the Nixon car, which was in the slough over the hubs. The sight
that met the gaze of Jerry and his chums was enough to excite their
pity, even though the victim was their worst enemy.
Noddy Nixon was standing in the mud puddle which came considerably over
his waist, and from the condition of his face, it was evident that
he had been flung in head first, and had, after a struggle righted
himself. He was covered, streaked, spotted and speckled with the black,
slimy mud. It dripped from his shoulders, dripped from his extended
hands, and even oozed from his chin in a slimy stream.
For a moment our heroes gazed at him without speaking, then Jerry
uttered an expression combining surprise, dismay and pity.
“Well, what do you think of that?”
“He certainly is all in,” was Ned’s opinion.
“Good and proper,” murmured Bob.
Probably the hardest thing Noddy Nixon ever had to do was to appeal for
help to the three boys whom he had, many times in the past, used so
meanly. Yet there was no way out of it.
“Oh--oh, fellows,” he faltered. “See if you can’t help me out of here.
I--I’m stuck.”
“How’d you get there?” asked Jerry for want of something better to
inquire about.
“I--I stopped my car too suddenly,” replied the bully trying to wipe
some of the mud from his face with a still muddier hand. “It skidded,
and I put on the brakes hard, and I was flung out.”
“You didn’t pick out a very good place to land in,” grimly remarked Bob.
“Guess he didn’t have time,” suggested Ned.
“Oh, aren’t you going to help me out?” begged Noddy.
“Do you mean help you out, or your car?” asked Jerry. “Why can’t you
wade over to solid ground? Then we’ll help you pull out your car.
That’s stuck pretty bad too.”
“No, I--I can’t wade out,” replied Noddy helplessly. “I’m in a sort of
muck, or quicksand. Everytime I try to take a step I go in deeper. I
need a board or a fence rail, or--or something to help me. Oh, please,
fellows--I know I’ve been mean to you--but forgive me and help me out!”
“It’s about time you got wise to the fact that you did us some mean
turns,” spoke Ned. “How about splashing mud on us a little while ago?”
“I’m sorry I did that.”
“Yes, you are now, but the next time you get the chance you’d do the
same thing,” declared Jerry.
“No, honest I won’t!” promised Noddy, and he was in earnest--at least
for the time being.
“Well, you don’t deserve to have us help you out, but we can’t see you
in this plight without doing something,” went on Jerry. “Try once more
to pull yourself out. I don’t fancy getting all covered with mud.”
Noddy tried, but it was of no use. The more he struggled to free
himself, the deeper he sank, and he was evidently very much alarmed--so
much so that he began to blubber.
“Oh, now, stop bellowing, and we’ll help you,” cried Ned, much
disgusted by the cowardice of the bully. “Come on, fellows, get some
fence rails, and we’ll see what we can do.”
The rails were brought, and extended to Noddy in a sort of criss-cross
platform to support him. In placing them our friends got in the mud
over their shoes, but there was no help for it. Presently Noddy was
able to bear part of his weight on the rails, and then, by a vigorous
effort, he managed to pull his legs loose from the grip of the sticky
mud. He crawled out on the firm ground, a worse looking sight than
Jerry and his chums had seen for many a day.
“Look at me!” gasped Noddy in dismay, as he glanced down at his legs.
“Look at me--Oh!--Oh! It’s--it’s--awful!”
“Better look for a clean puddle of water and roll in it,” advised Ned,
trying not to smile.
“If you had a lot of newspapers you could wipe some of it off,” added
Bob.
“Or some rags from your auto,” put in Jerry. This mention of the car
recalled to Noddy the plight of his machine. He looked over to where it
was firmly imbedded in the slough, and said:
“Will you help me get it out, fellows?”
“It’s in pretty deep,” observed Jerry, going closer and taking a
critical observation.
“We’ll have to get some wide boards and put them under the wheels,” was
Ned’s opinion.
“Maybe we could pull it out with our car, if we had a long rope,”
suggested Bob.
“That’s the very thing!” exclaimed Jerry. “I guess we can pull it out,
Noddy--but next time, don’t go so fast--especially around a curve.”
“I’ll not,” promised the miserable bully.
“And don’t steer out of your way to splash mud on people from whom you
may want help afterward,” suggested Ned significantly.
“I--I won’t,” declared Noddy. “Oh, fellows if you’ll only pull my
car out for me I’ll pay you well. My father said if I had any more
accidents I couldn’t run it again this summer. I’ll do anything you say
if you’ll pull it out.”
“We don’t want any of your money,” half growled Jerry. “There’s one
thing about it though, you’ve got to wade in there yourself to attach
the rope; that is if we can get one.”
“I’ve got a long rope in the car!” exclaimed Noddy eagerly. “I always
carry one, for I was stuck in the sand once. I’ll go in and get it,
and fasten it to my car. Then I’ll bring the end out here, and you can
attach it to your machine.”
“Yes, I guess you’d better do the wading,” said Ned, for to get to
Noddy’s stalled car it would be necessary for some one to go in the
muck up to his knees, and none of our heroes relished this. “You can’t
be much muddier than you are Noddy,” finished the merchant’s son.
“I’ll do it,” promised the bully eagerly, and having gotten rid of some
of the muck on his face and hands he stepped into the miniature swamp,
and was soon attaching the rope to the rear of his car. Then he brought
the free end out to firm ground where Jerry received it. Then, having
turned his auto around, the tall lad made the cable fast to the rear of
his machine.
“Come on now, fellows, get in our car to hold it down when the strain
comes,” suggested Bob to his chums.
“All ready?” asked Ned of Noddy, a little later.
“Yes,” was the faltering answer.
Jerry threw in the gear, and let the clutch slip into place. The car
of our heroes went forward a little way, and then began the strain on
the rope. The strands straightened out, there was a creaking sound, but
Noddy’s auto did not budge.
“Try more power, Jerry,” suggested Ned.
The tall lad turned on all the gasolene he dared. The rear wheels of
his auto spun uselessly around in the wet dirt of the highway.
“Wow! Stop!” cried Bob. “You’ll rip off our tires.”
“I guess we can’t stir you, Noddy,” called Jerry, as he shut off the
power.
“Oh, try! Try once more!” begged the bully.
Jerry did not relish his task much, but he did try. Once more the rope
became taut. There was a great strain on it. Once more the wheels of
the pulling auto spun around. Still Jerry kept the power on.
Noddy’s car quivered in the mud that held it fast. It moved not an
inch, however.
“Go on! Go on!” yelled the bully encouragingly.
“You’ll ruin our tires!” cried Ned.
Jerry, with a grim look on his face turned on the least bit more
gasolene. Then, with a crack like that of a revolver the rope snapped,
and one end of it flew dangerously close over the heads of our heroes
in their car. For when a rope on which there is a great strain breaks
suddenly, it is a dangerous missile.
“Look out!” yelled Ned, as he saw the end of the cable hurling toward
himself and his chums. They ducked just in time. The other end flopped
down in the mud behind Noddy’s car.
The bully looked disconsolate.
“Have to try it again, I guess,” he suggested.
“Not much!” declared Jerry decisively.
“Wha--what?” gasped Noddy.
“No more tries for us,” went on the tall lad. “You’ve stuck too fast
for us to pull you out, Noddy. What you need is some pulleys and a
derrick. We can’t risk breaking our car, and ripping off the tires.
You’ll have to stay there until you can get some one else to pull you
out.”
Jerry detached the broken rope from his car, and got in again.
“You--you aren’t going away and leave me; are you?” faltered Noddy.
“You guessed it,” declared Bob.
“Oh, please pull me out!” pleaded the bully.
“We can’t,” spoke Jerry, not unkindly. “It’s impossible, Noddy. That
mud has too firm a hold on your wheels. The best we can do is to stop
at the nearest garage and tell them about you.”
The bully begged and pleaded by turns, and offered the boys a large sum
of money; but though our heroes would have helped him, in spite of his
former meanness, it was out of the question. They could not afford to
damage their own car, and risk getting hurt by a breaking rope.
“Sorry to leave you, but we must,” called Jerry, as he sent the auto
slowly ahead. They turned toward Cresville, leaving Noddy standing on
the brink of the muck-hole, gazing disconsolately at his stalled auto,
while the mud and water dripped from him at several points, and formed
little puddles at his feet.