[Illustration: “HE’S KILLED. THEY’RE KILLED!” CRIED SCORES.]
THE MOTOR BOYS
OR
CHUMS THROUGH THICK AND THIN
BY CLARENCE YOUNG
AUTHOR OF “THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND,” “THE MOTOR BOYS
IN MEXICO,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON CO.
BOOKS BY CLARENCE YOUNG
=THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES=
(_=Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of.=_)
12mo. Illustrated
Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid
THE MOTOR BOYS
Or Chums Through Thick and Thin
THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND
Or A Long Trip for Fun and Fortune
THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO
Or The Secret of the Buried City
THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS
Or The Hermit of Lost Lake
THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT
Or The Stirring Cruise of the Dartaway
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC
Or The Mystery of the Lighthouse
THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS
Or Lost in a Floating Forest
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC
Or The Young Derelict Hunters
THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS
Or A Trip for Fame and Fortune
=THE JACK RANGER SERIES=
12mo. Finely Illustrated
Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid
JACK RANGER’S SCHOOLDAYS
Or The Rivals of Washington Hall
JACK RANGER’S WESTERN TRIP
Or From Boarding School to Ranch and Range
JACK RANGER’S SCHOOL VICTORIES
Or Track, Gridiron and Diamond
JACK RANGER’S OCEAN CRUISE
Or The Wreck of the Polly Ann
JACK RANGER’S GUN CLUB
Or From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail
Copyright, 1906, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE MOTOR BOYS
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER. PAGE
I. AN ENCOUNTER ON BICYCLES 1
II. A MEAN PLOT 11
III. THE DAY OF THE RACES 16
IV. THE THREE MILE RACE 29
V. A DEMAND FOR MONEY 42
VI. AT THE CLUB HOUSE 48
VII. NODDY AND THE SQUARE BOX 56
VIII. THE MILL MYSTERY 62
IX. THE QUEER BANK BILL 70
X. THE MOTOR-CYCLE 78
XI. MACHINES FOR BOB AND NED 87
XII. A WILD NIGHT RIDE 95
XIII. ADVENTURES ON THE ROAD 104
XIV. A FIRE AND A DISCOVERY 111
XV. NED UNDER SUSPICION 118
XVI. PLANS FOR A MOTOR-CYCLE RACE 128
XVII. CAUGHT IN THE STORM 135
XVIII. A LEAP FOR LIFE 145
XIX. JERRY AND THE DOCTOR 156
XX. CLOSING THE NET 164
XXI. PRACTICE FOR THE RACE 170
XXII. JACK PENDER’S TRICK 179
XXIII. THE RIDE TO BOSTON 187
XXIV. GETTING BACK HOME 195
XXV. NODDY’S QUEER ACTIONS 203
XXVI. NODDY NIXON CORNERED 209
XXVII. NODDY NIXON’S MOVE 216
XXVIII. THE GREAT RACE 223
XXIX. A TRIP OVERLAND PROPOSED 236
XXX. AN IMPORTANT LETTER--CONCLUSION 243
PREFACE.
_Dear Boys_:
Here is a brand-new line of stories for you, to be issued under the
general title of “The Motor Boys Series.”
The motor-cycle of to-day is fast taking the place of the ordinary
bicycle, and the automobile, or auto, as it is commonly called, is
taking the place of our horses. This being so, it has occurred to the
writer to prepare a line of stories, telling of the doings of a number
of lively, up-to-date lads who at first own motor-cycles and later on
become the proud possessors of a touring car.
This tale before you, “The Motor Boys,” is the first volume of the
series, telling of the doings of Ned, Bob, Jerry and their chums in and
around their home town. Some stirring races are mentioned, and also the
wicked plots of some enemies to bring our heroes to grief. At the races
some fine prizes were put up, and Ned, Bob and Jerry did their best to
carry off the honors. In the meantime there was a mysterious robbery
of a mill, and what the lads did to solve this riddle I leave to the
chapters, which follow, to relate.
This story of “The Motor Boys” will be followed by a second volume, to
be called “The Motor Boys Overland,” and then by a third, “The Motor
Boys in Mexico.” I hope these volumes will please my boy readers.
CLARENCE YOUNG.
_January 9, 1906._
THE MOTOR BOYS.
CHAPTER I.
AN ENCOUNTER ON BICYCLES.
“Hi, Ned! what do you say to a little race?”
“I’m ready,” called Ned Slade.
“How about you, Jerry?”
“Oh, I’m always ready,” answered Jerry Hopkins, tossing aside the core
of an apple he had been eating. “But how far is the race to be, Chunky?”
“To the oak tree,” replied Bob Baker.
“Suits me,” said Jerry. “All aboard!”
The three bicyclists rose from the grass where they had been resting in
the shade of a big maple tree, after a trip of about five miles on their
bicycles around the country outside of the village of Cresville, where
they lived. Cresville was a pleasant town, not a great many miles from
Boston.
The three boys were chums, and had been ever since they had started
to school together, eight years previous. There was Bob, the son of
Andrew Baker, who was counted one of the wealthiest men in Cresville.
His interests were varied, but were mainly in banks and banking
institutions. Besides Bob there was in the family a daughter Susie. Bob
was fourteen years old, and Susie two years younger, and Bob was so much
inclined to stoutness that he was sometimes called “Chunky” by his chums.
Ned was the only child of Aaron Slade, owner of the largest department
store in the town, and a well-off merchant. As for Jerry he lived with
his widowed mother, and his sister Julia Hopkins, a girl whom it would
do your heart good to know, she was so jolly and full of fun. The death
of Mr. Hopkins, a few years previous, had left his widow with an ample
income, which she devoted to the bringing up of her children. Jerry and
Ned were the same age, fifteen years.
All three boys were sturdy chaps, full of life and energy. They had
studied, played and fought together so long that they had come to be
regarded as three inseparables by the townspeople.
“Now are you fellows ready for the word?” asked Bob, steadying his wheel
in a line with the other two.
“Let her go!” called Jerry.
“Sing out, Chunky!” shouted Ned.
There was a moment of suspense, and a momentary thrill over even so
slight a thing as this little sprint among the three boys. Each one
meant to win.
“Go!” yelled Bob.
In an instant the wheels were started off. Three boys bounded into three
saddles. Three pairs of feet began to pump the pedals desperately. A
cloud of dust arose and the race was on.
It was a distance of half a mile from the maple tree, where the start
was made, to the oak which Bob had designated as the winning post. The
road was a good hard level stretch of macadam and the wheels fairly spun
along it.
At first the boys were on even terms. Then Bob gradually drew away
from Ned and Jerry. Seeing this Ned put an extra ounce or two into his
pushing and he soon caught up to Bob. These two held the lead on almost
a line for a few hundred feet.
Suddenly there was a whirr of wheels behind them, an excited joyous
shout and, with a yell, Jerry whizzed past, and obtained such a good
advantage that he kept it, until he reached the oak, where he leaped
off, and cast himself down in the shade to rest.
“I didn’t think you could do it, Jerry,” panted Ned, as he and Bob
flashed up two seconds later. “Honest, I didn’t.”
“Nor I,” came from Bob. “You must have been practicing lately.”
“Well, I thought I ought to try and improve my wheel-work,” said Jerry
modestly. “I’m thinking of going in the club races that will be held
soon, and I wanted to stand some sort of a show.”
“I’d say you stood a pretty good one, if you ride like you did to-day,”
interposed Ned. “You went past us flying, and Bob and I weren’t going so
slow, either; were we, Bob?”
“Not exactly.”
For a few minutes the boys lolled lazily in the grass, enjoying the
fresh air and sunshine. Then Bob took three apples from his pocket and
treated.
“Do you fellows know what I wish?” began Jerry, who had finished his
light lunch first. “I wish we all had motor-cycles.”
“It wouldn’t be a half-bad idea,” agreed Bob, after a little thought.
“I’m beginning to get a little tired of this leg-work, myself. How about
you, Ned?”
“I think I could use a motor-cycle if one came my way,” replied Ned.
“That is after I learned how to operate one, and wouldn’t blow myself
and the immediate neighborhood up with gasolene.”
“They’re easy to run,” affirmed Jerry, “and no more dangerous than a
horse. The catalogue I have says so.”
“That reminds me, are you two going in the bicycle races?” asked Jerry.
“You know there are going to be some fine prizes.”
“You mean the Cresville Athletic Club races?” asked Ned.
“Yes,” replied Jerry.
“I hadn’t thought much of it,” said Bob. “I heard about ’em, but it
takes a lot of time to train, and you have to almost starve yourself.”
“How about you, Ned?”
“Well, if you and Bob go in for it, Jerry, I s’pose I might as well too.
Tell us what you know about the races.”
Jerry related what he had heard about the plans of the athletic club
to hold an out-door meet on their grounds three weeks hence. As he had
said, several valuable prizes were to be awarded, and there were many
classes of handicap contests, so that the boys would have plenty of
chances to enter, and stand a good show of winning one or more of the
trophies.
“It sounds good,” said Ned at length.
“I’m going to enter, and begin training at once,” decided Chunky.
“Same here, then,” came from Ned. “Have you entered yet, Jerry?”
“No, but I’ve begun to train some. There’s plenty of time to send in
your name if you want to enter. The lists are open until five days
before the races.”
“All right, then it’s settled,” exclaimed Ned, slowly rising from his
comfortable berth in the grass.
The three boys mounted their wheels and started slowly homeward. They
took their time, keeping close together and talking now of the coming
races and again of the prospects of owning motor-cycles. At the top of
a long, gentle sloping hill, that led down, almost to the centre of the
town, the boys put their feet on the coasters and let their wheels glide
down by gravity. Soon they were going at a rapid rate, with Ned slightly
in the lead.
At the foot of the hill another road crossed at right angles. By reason
of a turn to this second road, and a clump of trees, any one passing
along it could not be seen until he was nearly in the middle of the hill
road.
Suddenly there shot from behind the clump of trees lining the cross-road,
a figure on a wheel.
“Look out!” yelled Bob and Jerry.
Ned looked up and saw, but was too late. He could not check his speed,
and the only thing to do was to turn to one side, and try to avoid the
other rider. Unfortunately the other rider, also seeing the danger, took
the same turn as had Ned.
“There’s going to be a smash!” called Jerry in excited tones.
The shock threw Ned and the other cyclist from their wheels into the
dusty road. The bicycles went in one direction and the riders in
another. Both boys were lying still on the highway when Bob and Jerry
came running up.
“Are they killed?” asked Jerry in a trembling voice.
“No, only stunned, I guess,” answered Bob, feeling of Ned’s heart, and
finding it beating. “Let’s see who the other fellow is.”
He turned the boy who had collided with Ned over.
“Noddy Nixon!” he said. “He’ll be sure to say this was Ned’s fault, and
it may make trouble. I wish Ned had put on his brake.”
Ned sat up and opened his eyes. A few seconds later Noddy Nixon did
likewise.
“What happened?” gasped Ned, rubbing the dust from his eyes.
“You had a little spill, that’s all,” answered Bob.
“A little spill? I should say we did,” snarled Noddy, who was larger and
stronger than any of the three chums, and older, being about eighteen.
“A nasty little spill it was, too. And all your fault, Ned Slade! Why
didn’t you look where you were going?”
“Why didn’t you look?” asked Ned, hotly. “I turned out to avoid you, and
if you’d been paying attention you wouldn’t have steered right into me.
It’s as much your fault as it is mine.”
“My leg’s broke,” came from Noddy. “You’ll suffer for this!”
“Get up and let’s see if it’s broken,” urged Bob, taking hold of Noddy’s
shoulder.
“Oh! Ouch!” screamed Noddy, who though he was strong and a bully was
also a great coward in pain. “My shoulder’s broken, too. I’ll sue you
for this, Ned Slade, after I get well, and I’ll lick you, too.”
“Oh, dry up!” muttered Ned, who was painfully limping toward his wheel.
When Noddy came to move he discovered that he was not as badly hurt as
he had foolishly imagined. He got on his feet, brushed the dirt from
his clothes, and found that he could walk all right. But he scowled
darkly when he saw Bob grinning at him.
“You’re more scared than hurt,” said Bob.
“Look here, you impudent little snob!” burst out Noddy, limping over
toward the boy who was still smiling. “Don’t give me any of your lip. I
won’t stand it. I’ll knock your head off!”
“Better not try,” advised Bob quietly, the smile leaving his face. “Two
can play at that game.”
“Yes, and so can we all of us!” broke in Jerry, who was something of
a boxer. “We’re sorry for what happened, Nixon,” he went on, “but you
needn’t rub it in.”
“Oh, shut-up!” cried Noddy, turning away, and picking up his wheel.
“I’ll get even with you for this, though,” he muttered.
“Two of my spokes are broken,” he went on, after an examination of his
bicycle. “You’ll have to pay for them, Ned Slade.”
“So are two of mine, and my handle bars are bent,” retorted Ned. “I
guess we’ll call it even, Noddy. I won’t charge you for straightening
the handles,” and he laughed in spite of the pain of his bruises.
“You--you!” began Noddy, but rage seemed to choke him, and with
scowling face he mounted his wheel and rode slowly away. “You just
wait!” he shouted back, shaking his head at the three boys.