A WILD RIDE
It was a rather gloomy morning on which the team started for the college
where they were to play one of the most important games of the series.
If they won, they would eliminate the Grays and have only to contend
with the Maroons; if they lost, all their splendid work of the season
might have gone for nought.
They were a sober bunch, therefore, as they gathered at the railway
station to await their train. There was little of the usual joking
and horse play to be seen, but this may have been partly due to the
depressing state of the weather. As the train came in sight, however,
they chirked up somewhat at the thought of having something to occupy
their minds, and piled aboard their special car in a little more
cheerful mood. A dense, clammy fog hung low over the ground, and it
was impossible to see more than a hundred feet or so into it in any
direction.
The town in which they were to play to-day was almost a hundred miles
distant, and so they had a considerable journey ahead of them. The
train was a little behind time, and was making extra speed in an effort
to catch up with its schedule. They had traversed several miles, and
were relieving the monotony of the journey with jokes and riddles. As
they passed over a particularly high trestle, and looked down into the
dizzy void below, Sterling, the second baseman, said:
"Say, fellows, this trestle reminds me of a story I heard a little while
ago. If somebody would beg me to real hard, I might be induced to tell
it to you."
"Go ahead!" "Shoot!" "Let's hear it!" came a chorus of supplication, and
Sterling said, "Well, if you insist, I suppose I will have to tell it to
you. The scene of this thrilling anecdote is laid in the Far West, when
it was much wilder and woollier than it is at present. It seems that two
horse thieves had been captured by a band of 'vigilantes,' and after a
trial notable for its brevity and lack of hampering formalities, they
were both sentenced to be hanged. It was in a country in which there
were no trees worthy of the name, and the only available place for the
execution within several miles was a high railroad bridge. To this,
accordingly, the 'vigilantes' conducted their prisoners, one of whom was
a Swede and the other of Irish persuasion. The two were forced to draw
lots to see which one should be hanged first, and, as it turned out,
the Swede drew the short straw, and so was pronounced the first victim
of justice.
"The noose of a stout lariat was fastened around his neck, and when
everything was ready he was shoved off the bridge. As the strain of his
weight came on the rope, however, the knot of the noose became untied,
and the Swede fell to the rushing river below. He was not hurt much, and
those on the bridge saw him swim to the bank and scramble ashore. There
was no way of getting at him, so the lynchers had to satisfy themselves
with many and varied oaths. The Irishman, of course, had watched the
proceeding in a fascinated manner, and as the cowboys tied the rope
around his neck, he said, in an imploring voice, 'For Hivin's sake,
byes, tie the rope tight this time, for I can't swim a stroke.'"
Hearty laughter greeted Sterling's narrative, and the boys felt in
better spirits after it.
"That reminds me of a story I heard once," began Hinsdale. "It was when
I was on a visit to my uncle's ranch in Montana, and----"
But he was interrupted by a crash that sounded as though the end of the
world had come, and the car in which they were riding reared up in the
air like a bucking horse. It rose almost to a perpendicular position,
and then crashed over on its side. It scraped along a few rods in this
position, and then came to a grinding halt.
For a few seconds there was silence, and then a pandemonium of muffled
screams and cries broke forth. Bert's voice was the first to be heard in
their car, and it inquired, anxiously, "Where are you, Dick, Tom, and
the rest of you? Are you alive yet? Here, you, get off my neck, will
you, and give me a chance to breathe."
There was a general scramble and struggle among the debris, and soon one
boy after another climbed and crawled through the broken windows until
finally they all stood accounted for. Many had painful scratches and
bruises, but none were hurt at all seriously. Reddy, the trainer, drew a
sigh of relief. "Thank Heaven for its mercies," said he, fervently, and
then, "Well, me lads, get a wiggle on, and we'll see if everybody else
has been as lucky as we have. From the looks of things up forward there,
it's more than I dare hope."
The front part of the train, which had sustained the greatest shock of
the collision, was indeed a terrible spectacle. Running full speed, the
two trains had crashed into each other out of the fog before their
engineers had fairly realized that anything was amiss. The locomotives
were practically demolished, and one huge Mogul lay on its side beside
the roadbed, steam still hissing from its broken pipes. The other engine
still was on the rails, but its entire front had been demolished, and it
was a total wreck. The coaches immediately back of the locomotives had
been driven on by the momentum of the cars back of them, and had been
partly telescoped; that is, the cars in the rear had plowed half way
through before their progress was checked. To add to the horror of the
scene, thin red flames were licking up from the wreckage, probably
started by the coals from the engine. Many of the passengers were unable
to extricate themselves from the wreckage, being pinned down by beams and
other heavy articles. Their cries and supplications to be saved were
pitiful as they saw the hungry flames gathering headway and eating their
way toward them, and Reddy turned fiercely to the horror-stricken boys.
"Here, what are ye standing around for?" he snarled. "Git back to our car
and get out the axes and fire extinguishers there. You can get at them if
you try. Come on; hurry!" and the trainer sprinted back toward the rear
cars, followed in a body by the willing and eager boys. In less time
than it takes to tell it, they returned, some with axes and some with
extinguishers. The latter could make little progress against the flames,
however, which by now had gained considerable headway, so the boys,
assisted by such other of the passengers who were in a position to do
so, proceeded to chop and dig their way to the imprisoned unfortunates.
Person after person they dragged out in this manner, until they had
rescued all but one man.
He was pinned down by a timber that had all the weight of one of the
heavy trucks on it, and it seemed impossible that they could get him out
before the fire got to him. Already they could feel its intense heat as
they chopped and pulled, wrenched and lifted, in a frenzy of haste.
Nearer and nearer crept the all-embracing fire, until eyebrows and hair
began to singe with the deadly heat, and they were forced to work in
relays, relieving each other every minute or so.
"For God's sake, if you can't get me out of here before the fire reaches
me, kill me," pleaded the unfortunate prisoner, "don't let me roast here
by degrees!"
"No danger of that," gasped Bert, as he swung a huge timber aside that
under ordinary circumstances he would have been unable even to move.
"We'll have you out in a jiffy, now."
"Come on boys, we've got to move this truck," yelled Reddy. "Here,
everybody get hold on this side, and when I say pull, _pull_ for your
lives! Now! get hold! Ready?"
"Yes!" they gasped between set teeth.
"Pull!" fairly screamed Reddy, and every man and boy grasping the
obstinate mass of twisted metal put every ounce of strength in his body
into one supreme effort. The mass swayed, gave, and then toppled back
where it had been before!
"Don't give up!" yelled Bert, frantically, as he saw some of the men
release their hold and turn away, evidently despairing of accomplishing
their object. "Try it again! For God's sake remember you're men, and try
again! It's a human life that's at stake!"
Thus adjured, they returned to the task, and at the signal from Reddy,
wrenched and tore frantically at the inert mass that appeared to mock
their puny efforts.
"Keep it up, keep it up!" gritted Reddy. Slowly but surely, every muscle
straining to its utmost and threatening to snap under the terrific
strain, they raised the heavy truck, and with one last mad heave and
pull sent it toppling down the railroad embankment.
With a wild yell they fell upon the few light timbers lying between them
and the imprisoned man, and soon had him stretched out safely beside the
track. On examination it proved that he had an arm wrenched and several
minor injuries, but nothing fatal.
"Nothing I can say will express half the gratitude I feel toward you
young men," he said, smiling weakly up into the faces of the boys
grouped about him, "you have saved me from a horrible death, and I will
never forget it."
While waiting for the arrival of the wrecking crew and a doctor, the
rescued man had considerable further talk with the members of the team,
and they learned, much to their surprise, that he was an alumnus of
their college. Their pleasure at this discovery was very great, and that
of the stranger seemed little less.
"The old college has done me a whole lot of good, all through my life,"
he said, "but never as much as it did to-day, through her baseball team.
You will hear further from me, young men."
"Oh, it was nothing much to do," deprecated Bert, "we did the only thing
there was to be done under the circumstances, and that was all there was
to it!"
"Not a bit of it," insisted the gentleman. "Why, just take a look at
your faces. You are all as red as though you had been boiled, and your
eyebrows are singed. I declare, anybody looking at us would think that
you had had a good deal harder time of it than I had."
And nothing the boys could say would induce him to alter his opinion of
their heroism in the slightest degree.
Soon they heard a whistle far down the track, and shortly afterward the
wrecking train hove in view. It consisted, besides the locomotive and
tender, of a tool car, in which were stored all kinds of instruments,
jacks, etc., that could possibly be required, and a flat car on which a
sturdy swinging crane was mounted. The railroad company had also sent
several physicians, who were soon busily engaged in taking proper care
of the injured.
In the meantime, the crew of the wrecking train, headed by a burly
foreman, got in strenuous action, and the boys marveled at the quick and
workmanlike manner in which they proceeded to clear the line. As is the
case with all wrecking crews, their orders were to clear the road for
traffic in the shortest time regardless of expense. The time lost in
trying to save, for instance, the remains of a locomotive or car for
future use, would have been much more valuable than either.
A gang of Italians were set to work clearing off the lighter portion of
the wreckage, and the wrecking crew proper proceeded to get chains under
the locomotive that remained on the tracks. It was so twisted and bent
that not one of its wheels would even turn, so it was impossible to tow
it away. The only solution of the problem, then, was to lift it off
the track. After the crew had placed and fastened the chains to the
satisfaction of the foreman, who accompanied the process with a string
of weird oaths, the signal was given to the man operating the steam
crane to "hoist away."
The strong engine attached to the massive steel crane began to whirr,
and slowly the great mass of the locomotive rose, inch by inch, into the
air. When the front part was entirely clear of the tracks, the operator
touched another lever, and the crane swung outward, carrying the huge
locomotive with it as a child might play with a toy. It was a revelation
of the unlimited might of that powerful monster, steam.
Further and further swung the crane, until the locomotive was at right
angles to the track, with its nose overhanging the embankment. Then,
with the foreman carefully directing every movement with uplifted
hand and caustic voice, the locomotive was lowered gently down the
embankment, partly sliding and partly supported by the huge chain, every
link of which was almost a foot long.
In speaking of this chain afterward one of the boys said he wished he
had stolen it so that he might wear it as a watch-chain.
The engine finally came to rest at the foot of the incline, and the
chain was slackened and cast off. Then the crane took the next car in
hand, and went through much the same process with it. Car after car was
slid down the embankment, and in an incredibly short time the roadway
was cleared of wreckage. Then it was seen that several rails had been
ripped up, but these were quickly replaced by others from racks built
along the right of way, such as the reader has no doubt often seen.
In a little over an hour from the time the wrecking crew came on the
scene the last bolt on the rail connecting plates had been tightened,
and the track was ready again for traffic.
"Gee," exclaimed Tom, "that was quick work, for fair. Why, if anybody
had asked me, I would have said that no train would have been able to
use this roadway for at least a day. That crew knows its business, and
no mistake."
"They sure do," agreed Dick, "they cleared things up in jig time. But it
only shows what can be done when you go about it in the right way."
"I only wish we had had that crane when we were trying to lift the truck
up," said the trainer, who had sauntered up to the group. "It wouldn't
have been any trick at all with that little pocket instrument."
"No," laughed Bert. "I think that in the future I will carry one around
with me in case of emergencies. You don't know when it might come in
handy."
"Great head, great head," approved Dick, solemnly, and then they both
laughed heartily, and the others joined in. After their recent narrow
escape from death, life seemed a very pleasant and jolly thing.
But suddenly Bert's face sobered. "How the dickens are we going to get
to the game in time?" he inquired. "The service is all tied up, and it
will be hours and hours before we can get there."
This was indeed a problem, and there seemed to be no solution. There was
no other railroad running within twenty miles of this one, and while a
trolley line connecting the towns was building, it had not as yet been
completed. As Tom expressed it, "they were up against it good and
plenty."
While they were discussing the problem, and someone had despairingly
suggested that they walk, Mr. Clarke, the gentleman whom the boys had
rescued from the wreck, strolled up, with his arm neatly done up in a
sling. His face looked pale and drawn, but aside from the wrenched arm
he appeared none the worse for his harrowing experience.
When informed of the problem facing the team, he appeared nonplussed at
first, but then his face lightened up.
"My home isn't more than a mile from here," he said, "and I have
recently bought a large seven-passenger automobile. You could all pack
into that without much trouble, and there is a fine macadam road leading
from within a few blocks of my house to the town for which you are
bound. But there," and his face clouded over, "I forgot. I discharged my
chauffeur the other day, and I have not had time as yet to engage
another. I don't know whom I could get to drive the car. I can't do it
on account of my broken arm."
"Shucks, that's too bad," said Reddy, in a disappointed tone, "that
would be just the thing, if we only had someone to run it. That's what I
call tough luck. I guess there's no game for us to-day, boys, unless we
think of something else."
But here Bert spoke up. "If Mr. Clarke wouldn't be afraid to trust the
car to me," he said, "I know how to drive, and I can promise we will
take the best care of it. I know that car fore and aft, from radiator to
taillight."
"Why, certainly, go as far as you like," said Mr. Clarke, heartily. "If
you are sure you can handle it I will be only too glad to let you have
it. Nothing I can do will repay a thousandth part of what I owe you
boys."
"You're sure you're capable of handling a car, are you, Wilson?"
inquired the trainer, with a searching look. "I don't want to take a
chance on getting mixed up in any more wrecks to-day. The one we've had
already will satisfy me for some time to come."
"Watch me," was all Bert said, but Dick and Tom both chimed in
indignantly, "I guess you don't know whom we have with us," said Tom,
"why, Bert has forgotten more about automobiles than I ever knew, and
I'm no slouch at that game."
"That's right," confirmed Dick. "Bert's some demon chauffeur, Reddy.
Believe me, we'll have to move some, too, if we expect to get to D----
in time for the game. Why!" he exclaimed, glancing at his watch, "it's
after one now, and we're due to be at the grounds at 2:30. How far is
it, Mr. Clarke, from your house to D----?"
Mr. Clarke calculated a moment, and then said, "Why, I guess it must be
from fifty to fifty-five miles. You'll have to burn up the road to get
there in anything like time," he said, and glanced quizzically at Bert.
"That's easy," returned the latter, "a car like yours ought to be
capable of seventy miles an hour in a pinch."
Mr. Clarke nodded his head. "More than that," he said, "but be careful
how you try any stunts like seventy miles an hour. I don't care about
the car, but I don't want the old college to be without a baseball team
owing to an automobile smashup."
"Never fear," said Bert, confidently. "You may be sure I will take no
unnecessary chances. I don't feel as though I wanted to die yet awhile."
"All right," said Mr. Clarke, and proceeded to give them directions on
the shortest way to reach his home. When he had finished, Reddy sang
out, "All right, boys, let's get a move on. Double quick now! We haven't
a minute to lose."
Accordingly the whole team started off at a swinging trot, and it was
not long before Mr. Clarke's handsome residence came into view. Mr.
Clarke had given them a note, which they presented to his wife, who met
them at the door. She was much agitated at the news contained therein,
but, after a few anxious questions, proceeded to show them where the
machine was located, and gave them the key to the garage. They raced
down a long avenue of stately trees, and soon came to the commodious
stone garage. Reddy unlocked the doors, and swung them wide.
"Gee, what a machine," breathed Bert, and stood a moment in mute
admiration. The automobile was of the very latest pattern, and was the
finest product of an eminent maker. The sun sparkled on its polished
enamel and brass work. But Bert had no eyes for these details. He raised
the hood and carefully inspected the engine. Then he peered into the
gasoline and oil tanks, and found both plentifully supplied.
"All right," he announced, after this inspection. "Pile in someway, and
we'll get a move on. What time is it, Tom?"
"Just twenty-five minutes of two," announced Tom, after consulting his
watch. "I hope we don't get arrested for speeding, that's all. This
reminds me of the old 'Red Scout' days, doesn't it you, Dick?"
"It sure does," agreed the latter, with a reminiscent smile. "We'll have
to go mighty fast to break the records we made then, won't we, old
sock?" slapping Bert on the shoulder.
"That's what," agreed Bert, as he cranked the motor.
The big engine coughed once or twice, and then settled down into a
contented purring. Bert threw in the reverse and backed out of the
garage. He handled the big car with practised hands, and Reddy, who
had been watching him carefully, drew a sigh of relief. "I guess he
knows his business, all right," he reflected, and settled back on the
luxurious cushions of the tonneau. The car was packed pretty solidly,
you may be sure, and everyone seated on the cushions proper had somebody
else perched on his lap. This did not matter, however, and everybody was
too excited to feel uncomfortable.
As they passed the porch, they stopped, and Mrs. Clarke, who had been
waiting to see them off, gave Bert directions on how to find the main
road. "Follow the road in front of the house due south for about half or
three-quarters of a mile," she said, "and then turn to your left on the
broad, macadam road that you will see at about this point. That will
take you without a break to D----. Be careful of that car, though," she
said to Bert, "I'm almost afraid of it, it's so very powerful."
"It will need all its power to-day," said Bert, smiling, and they all
said good-bye to Mrs. Clarke. Then Bert slipped in the clutch, and the
big car glided smoothly out on the road in front of the house, and in a
very short time they came to the main road of which Mrs. Clarke had
spoken.
"Now, Bert, let her rip," said Dick, who was in the seat beside our
hero. Bert did.
Little by little he opened the throttle till the great machine was
rushing along the smooth road at terrific speed. Faster and faster they
flew. The wind whistled in their ears, and all who were not holding on
to their caps lost them. There was no time to stop for such a trivial
item, and indeed nobody even thought of such a thing. To get to the
game, that was the main thing. Also, the lust of speed had entered their
hearts, and while they felt horribly afraid at the frightful pace, there
was a certain mad pleasure in it, too. The speedometer needle crept up
and up, till it touched the sixty-mile-an-hour mark. Reddy wanted to
tell Bert to slacken speed, but feared that the boys would think he was
"scared," so said nothing. Bert's heart thrilled, and the blood pounded
madly through his veins. His very soul called for speed, speed! and he
gradually opened the throttle until it would go no further. The great
car responded nobly, and strained madly ahead. The whirring gears hummed
a strident tune, and the explosions from the now open muffler sounded in
an unbroken roar. The passengers in the machine grew dizzy, and some
were forced to close their eyes to protect them from the rushing,
tearing wind. The fields on both sides streaked away in back of them
like a vari-colored ribbon, and the gray road seemed leaping up to meet
them. The speedometer hand pointed to eighty miles an hour, and now
there was a long decline in front of them. The boys thought that then
Bert would surely reduce the power somewhat, but apparently no such
thought entered his mind. Down the long slope they swooped, and
then--What was that in front of them, that they were approaching at such
terrific speed? At a glance Bert saw that it consisted of two farm
wagons traveling along toward them at a snail's pace, their drivers
engaged in talk, and oblivious of the road in front of them. Bert
touched the siren lever, and a wild shriek burst from the tortured
siren. The drivers gave one startled glance at the flying demon
approaching them, and then started to draw up their horses to opposite
sides of the road. They seemed fairly to crawl and Bert felt an awful
contraction of his heart. What if they could not make it? He knew that
it would have been folly to apply the brakes at the terrific speed at
which they were traveling, and his only chance lay in going between the
two wagons.
Slowly--slowly--the wagons drew over to the side of the road, and Bert
calculated the distance with straining eyes. His hands gripped the wheel
until his knuckles stood out white and tense.
Now they were upon the wagons--and through! A vision of rearing horses,
excited, gesticulating drivers--and they were through, with a scant half
foot to spare on either side.
A deep sigh went up from the passengers in the car, and tense muscles
were relaxed. Gradually, little by little, Bert reduced the speed until
they were traveling at a mere forty miles an hour, which seemed quiet,
safe and slow, after their recent hair-raising pace. Reddy pulled out
his handkerchief and mopped his forehead, which was beaded with
perspiration.
"We looked death in the face that time," he declared, gravely. "I never
expected to get out of that corner alive. If we had hit one of those
wagons, it would have been all up with us. For heaven's sake, Wilson,
take it a little easier in the future, will you? I don't want to
decorate a marble slab in the morgue just yet awhile."
Tom pulled out his watch, and found that it was after two o'clock. "We
can't be far from the town now," he declared. "I'll bet that's it, where
you see the steeple over there in the distance."
"That's what it is," chimed in several of the others, who had been to
the town before; "we'll get there with time to spare."
The intervening mile or so was covered in a jiffy, and the car entered
the town. Almost immediately they were recognized by some in the crowd,
and were greeted with cheers. A couple of young fellows whom they knew
jumped up on the running-board as Bert slowed down for them.
"Gee," said one, "there's some class to you fellows, all right, all
right. It isn't every baseball team that can travel around the country
in a giddy buzz wagon like the one you have there. Who belongs to it,
anyway?"
"Oh, it's too long a story to tell now," said the trainer. "We'll tell
you all about it after the game. It's about time we were starting in to
practise a little."
They soon arrived at the grounds, and were greeted by an ovation. The
news of the wreck had just been telegraphed in, and the spectators had
been a sorely disappointed lot until the arrival of the car bearing the
Blues. The news had spread over the field, and some of the spectators
had started to leave, thinking that, of course, there would be no game.
These soon returned, however, and settled down to see the struggle.
It would seem as though the Blues would have little energy left after
such an exciting day as they had passed through, but such is the
wonderful elasticity and recuperative powers of youth, that they played
one of the snappiest games of the season, and after a hotly contested
fight won out by a score of four to two.
As they returned to the clubhouse after the game, they were surprised
beyond measure to see Mr. Clarke waiting for them. He greeted them with
a smile, and shook hands all around with his uninjured arm.
"I caught the first train that went through," he explained, "and got
here in time to see the last inning. You fellows put up a cracker-jack
game, and I think you are an honor to the old college. It was a wonder
you did not lose. After what you have been through to-day I should not
have been a bit surprised or disappointed."
They thanked him for his kind speech, and then nothing would do but that
they must have supper with him at the most expensive hotel in town.
Needless to say, this meal was done ample justice, and when Mr. Clarke
informed them that he had hired rooms for them for the night the
announcement was greeted with a cheer.
"I have telegraphed home, so nobody will be worried about you," he said.
"They know you're in safe hands," and his eyes twinkled.
It was a tired lot of athletes that tumbled up to bed that night,
and soon they were sleeping the deep, dreamless sleep of healthy
exhaustion.