THE BORROWED ROLLER
Some twelve years before a large tract of marsh and meadow lying west
of the town and southeast of the river where it turns toward the sea
had been purchased by Mr. Jonathan Brent. At the time no one conceived
that any of the land except possibly a few blocks just beyond A Street
would ever be marketable as residence lots. But Mr. Brent had gradually
filled in, driving back the twisting creeks that meandered about the
land, until many acres had been redeemed. Several new streets were
laid out and Mr. Brent, retaining for his own occupancy a full block
between Sawyer and Troutman Streets, had built himself a very handsome
residence. “Brentwood” was quite the finest mansion in Clearfield. When
finished it was two blocks beyond the westernmost house in town, but
it did not remain so long. Brent’s Addition proved popular and many
citizens bought lots there and built, in some cases abandoning homes in
the middle of town that were already being elbowed by business blocks.
Between Main and Common Streets, three blocks north of “Brentwood,”
two squares had been left undivided and this ground was now the High
School Athletic Field. West of that, building had not progressed to any
great extent as yet, although a few houses were scattered about the
recently-made area. It was in this locality at about half-past nine
that Saturday night Lanny, Gordon, Way and one other found the street
rollers.
The fourth member of the expedition was Morris Brent. Morris, it
seemed, had recalled the fact that he had left a tennis racket and some
balls on the court at the side of the house and had gone out to bring
them in. On his return he had chanced to look toward the front gate and
had glimpsed the three figures going west along Troutman Street. There
was nothing extraordinary about that, but Morris had been impressed
with a certain stealthiness displayed by the trio, and had also caught
sight of a tow head under the dim light of a street lamp. Thereupon
Morris had abandoned racket and balls on the front steps and hastened
after the conspirators, finding that his surmise as to the identity
of the light-haired youth was correct. His advent was welcomed, the
purpose of the expedition explained to him and the trio became a
quartette.
Save Morris not a person was glimpsed from Gordon’s house to their
destination. The only person they were likely to meet was the policeman
on that beat, and, since he had to cover a deal of territory, and was
known to have a partiality for the better lighted district nearest
town, the boys considered their chances of evading him were excellent.
Making certain that there was no watchman about, they approached the
smaller of the two rollers and considered it. It would have to be
turned around and run back a half-block to the next street, north two
blocks and then east to the Common Street side of the athletic field.
The first difficulty that presented itself was that, contrary to the
statement of the engineer, the fire under the boiler was not banked. In
fact, there was very little fire there. This was explained by Morris.
Being Saturday, he said, the engineers had left their fires to go out
so they would not have to tend them until Monday morning.
“Isn’t that the dickens?” asked Lanny. He lifted down a red lantern
that hung from the engine and dubiously examined the steam gauge.
“About ten pounds,” he muttered. “She won’t stir a step on that!”
“Guess, then, we’d better try it some other time,” said Way.
“No, sir, we’re going to do it to-night,” responded Lanny, after a
moment’s consideration. “If we wait until the first of the week the
field may dry off, and we want to roll it while it’s still moist. The
only thing to do is to get this fire going and make steam. It’ll take
some time, but we can do it.”
“Easy,” agreed Morris. Being newly admitted to the conspiracy, Morris
was filled with enthusiasm. “Set the lantern down, Lanny, and I’ll
shovel some coal on.”
“All right. I’ll rake it a bit first, though.” This was done and then,
from the bin, Morris got several shovelfuls of soft coal and sprinkled
it gingerly over the dying fire. Drafts were opened and the quartette
sat down to wait. Fortunately, the night was fairly warm, otherwise the
ensuing period might have been distinctly unpleasant, for this newer
part of Brent’s Addition was beautifully level, and what breeze was
stirring came across the land unimpeded by anything larger than the
two-inch shade trees along the incipient sidewalks. They talked in low
tones, keeping a careful watch meanwhile for the policeman. The last
street light was at the end of the block and so, save for the lanterns
left by the workmen, they were in the darkness. Lanny, though, pointed
to the sky back of the town. “The moon’s coming up,” he said, “and I’d
like mighty well to be inside the field before it gets in its work.”
“Same here,” agreed Gordon. The next instant he uttered a cautioning
“_S-s-sh!_” and flattened himself out against the side of the roller.
Half a block away the officer on the beat had suddenly emerged from the
shadows and was standing under the light, gazing, as it seemed to the
boys, most interestedly toward them. There was a minute of suspense.
“Think he saw us?” whispered Gordon.
“Search me,” said Lanny. “I wish we’d had the sense to put the lantern
back on the other side where we got it. Here he comes!”
The officer had begun a slow but determined approach.
“Keep in the shadows,” advised Lanny, “and beat it back to the other
roller! Don’t let him see you!”
Silently, like four indistinct shadows, the boys slipped from their
places and, keeping as best they could the dark bulk of the roller
between them and the approaching policeman, scuttled up the road to
where the larger machine stood. There was one doubtful moment when the
light of the red lantern fell upon them just before they dodged behind
the big roller.
“He will see the fire and know that something’s up,” whispered Way.
“Let’s skip, fellows!”
“Hold on a minute,” advised Lanny. “Maybe he won’t. Wait and see.”
They peered anxiously around the edges of the big wheel behind which
they were hidden. The policeman was dimly visible as he walked about
the smaller roller. Finally he stopped and swung his stick a moment,
picked up the red lantern and set it in the road beside the machine
and, at last, slowly ambled back along the street. Breathlessly and
hopefully they watched him reach the corner and disappear without a
backward look. For a long two minutes after that they listened to the
sound of his footsteps dying away on the new granolithic sidewalk. Then:
“Saved!” murmured Morris dramatically.
“Come on,” said Lanny. “We’ll have to get that old shebang going even
if we have to push it! The moon will be up in a few minutes.”
When they got back there was an encouraging purring sound from the
engine and, without disturbing the lantern, Lanny borrowed a match from
Morris and read the gauge. “Forty-something,” he muttered as the light
flickered out. “We’ll try her, anyway. Sneak back there to the corner,
Gordon, and see if you can hear or see anything of the cop. And hurry
back. I’ll get her swung around, anyway.”
Gordon scouted off and Lanny, while the other two boys held their
breath anxiously, pulled a lever here, pushed something there and
turned the wheel. There was a hiss, a jar, a _clank_ and a rumble and
the roller slowly moved away from the curbing.
“She starts, she moves, she seems to feel
The thrill of life along her keel!”
murmured Morris poetically as Lanny sought excitedly for the reversing
lever in the darkness. The roller stopped suddenly and as suddenly
began to back. Way, who had followed close behind, had just time to
jump aside with a suppressed yelp before the ponderous machine struck
the curb with an alarming jolt.
“Keep her head down!” exclaimed Morris. “Don’t let her throw you,
Lanny!”
“Give me that lantern up here,” panted the amateur engineer. “I can’t
see what I’m doing.”
Way handed the lantern to him and he hung it on a projection in
front of him. After that progress was less erratic. It required much
maneuvering to get the roller headed the other way, but Lanny at last
accomplished the difficult feat. Gordon returned to report that all
was quiet. More coal was put into the furnace and the journey begun.
Lanny’s plan to have someone walk ahead with a lantern was abandoned.
Instead the light was put out and Lanny trusted to the faint radiance
of the moon which was not yet quite above the house-tops. The corner
was negotiated without difficulty and the Flying Juggernaut, as Gordon
dubbed the machine, swung into a smooth, newly-surfaced street over
which she moved easily if not silently. Gordon and Morris strode ahead
to watch for obstructions and give warning while Way, as a sort of rear
guard, remained behind in case pursuit appeared from that direction.
What each of the four marveled at was why the entire town did not turn
out to discover the reason for the appalling noise! Perhaps the sound
of the steam roller’s passage was not as deafening as they imagined,
but to them it seemed that the thumping and rattling and groaning could
easily be heard on the other side of town! If it was, though, nothing
came of it. Slowly but with a sort of blind inexorability quite awesome
the Juggernaut proceeded on her way. Lanny, his hand on the lever that
would bring her to a stop, stood at his post like a hero, ready,
however, to cut and run at the first alarm. It seemed the better part
of an hour to him before the two blocks were traversed and Morris came
back to announce that Common Street was reached. Over went the wheel
and the Flying Juggernaut, grazing the curbing with a nerve-destroying
rasp of steel against stone, turned toward the side entrance of the
field. On the left now were several houses. Lights shone from windows.
The boys held their breath as the last leg of the journey began.
Suppose that, hearing the noise and viewing the unusual sight of a
steam roller parading through the street at half-past ten o’clock, some
busy-body should telephone to the police station! Morris didn’t like
to think of it, and so, naturally, he mentioned it to Gordon. Gordon
assured him that the contingency had already occurred to him and that
if he saw a front door open he meant to disappear from the scene with
unprecedented celerity, or words to that effect!
But the suspense ended at last, for there, on the right, a break in the
shadowed darkness of the high fence, was the open gate. Lanny swung the
roller far to the left and turned toward the entrance. Then, however,
a problem confronted them, which was how to get it over the curbing!
They hadn’t planned for that. The sidewalk was a good six inches above
the street level, and, bringing the Juggernaut to a stop――the sudden
silence was absolutely uncanny!――Lanny invited ideas. Morris offered
the desperate plan of backing the roller to the far side of the street
and putting on all steam. “Sort of lift her over, Lanny,” he urged.
Lanny told him he was an idiot; that this thing was a steam roller and
not a horse. In the end Morris, Way and Gordon went inside to look for
planks or beams to lay along the curb, while Lanny, not too contented
with his task, remained to guard the roller. They were gone a long
time, or so, at least, it seemed to the engineer, but returned at last
with enough lumber of varying lengths and thicknesses to answer the
purpose. In the light of the inquiring moon, which was now sailing
well above the tree-tops, they snuggled the planks and joists against
the curbing, forming an abrupt but practical runway, and, giving the
Juggernaut all the steam there was, Lanny persuaded her to take the
incline and to roll majestically through the gate and into the field.
No sooner was she inside than Gordon swung the gate shut and secured
it, and four boys, with one accord, drew four long, deep-drawn breaths
of relief!