CAUGHT IN THE STORM.
“We ought to begin our training for the motor cycle race soon,” said
Jerry one morning, when he stopped at Ned’s house, coming back from the
post-office.
“I guess you’re right,” Ned assented. “I think a few good long trips on
the road as a starter would be a fine thing. What we need most is an
endurance run, for that’s what will count in the twenty-five mile race
that we are going to compete in.”
“I was thinking of that myself,” Jerry remarked. “What would you say to
a pretty long trip, say one hundred miles? We could run to Huntsville,
which is about sixty miles from here as I figure it, stay there all
night, and come back the next day. That would give us good practice.”
“Sounds as if it might do,” was Ned’s opinion. “Let’s go over and talk
to Bob about it.”
Eight o’clock the next morning saw them assembled in Bob’s yard, for it
had been agreed to start from his house. The last touches were given
the machines and, at a signal from Jerry, the trip was begun.
“Where are we going to stop for dinner?” asked Bob, when they had been
riding about an hour.
“There he goes,” said Jerry in a pretended complaining voice. “I never
did see such a fellow! You’d think he was all stomach.”
“Why,” began Ned soberly, “Jerry and I had about made up our minds that
we’d go without dinner. It will be good training and you need it you
know, Chunky.”
“Oh!” groaned the stout youth. “Oh dear! If I had known that I wouldn’t
have come along. I can’t go without my dinner.”
There was silence for a little while, broken now and again by a deep
sigh from Bob. Jerry and Ned had all they could do to keep from
laughing, but they managed to keep their faces serious.
“Let’s speed up a bit,” suggested the stout boy, after a time.
“What for?” asked Ned.
“Dinner time will come and pass quicker then,” explained the hungry one.
“Maybe we won’t notice it at all. But I surely will be glad when supper
time comes.”
“No, we agreed to run slowly,” Jerry remarked, “and we must stick to our
plan.”
Bob sighed but said nothing. On and on they rode, along pleasant
highways, under big shady trees, up hill and down dale. At last, when
the sun was almost at the zenith, they came to the top of a hill that
led down into a pretty valley.
In the centre of the vale, which was surrounded on all sides by green
wooded hills, nestled a village.
“That’s the town of Montville,” said Jerry. “We are half way to
Huntsville now.”
“Are we going to stop here?” asked Bob, a note of hope coming into his
voice.
“What for?” inquired Ned, winking at Jerry.
“I--er--thought--er--we--” began Bob.
“Own up! It was dinner you were thinking of, now wasn’t it Chunky?”
“Yes, it was,” admitted Bob in desperation.
Jerry and Ned laughed outright.
“I don’t see anything so very funny,” exclaimed Bob, who was not in the
best of humor. “If you had the appetite I have you wouldn’t want to
laugh.”
By this time the boys had reached the village and were riding through
the streets. People turned to stare at them, but the chums were used to
that by this time. They steered past a hotel.
“Ah! Um! Doesn’t that smell good!” cried Ned, tilting his nose high in
the air and sniffing vigorously. “I’ll bet they have ham and eggs!”
“Just what I was wishing for,” groaned Bob. “I’m going to have my
dinner, training or no training, race or no race,” and, with a
determined look he got off his machine.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” laughed Bob’s two chums.
“I wondered how much longer we could keep up the joke,” Jerry said, when
he had ceased chuckling. “You were easy, Chunky.”
“Then we are going to have dinner?” asked Bob, all his ill humor gone.
“That’s just what we are, Chunky, my boy!” exclaimed Jerry. “We were
only fooling you.”
They all sat down to a bountifully spread table a little later, and Ned
and Jerry were almost sorry for the anguish they had caused their chum,
when they saw, by the quantity of ham and eggs he consumed, how really
hungry he had been.
Dinner over, the three boys sat about on the hotel piazza for an hour.
They were plied with questions as to the working of their machines by
about a score of boys and youths who had gathered to see the motors
operated, Jerry kindly went into details and entertained the little
audience for some time.
“Well, I think we’d better be going,” said Jerry to his chums at length.
“It’s two o’clock and we can just about reach Huntsville by night.”
“You’re goin’ t’ git ketched in a storm,” said the hotel keeper.
“Think so?” inquired Jerry.
“I know it.” The man pointed to where a bank of dark clouds were
accumulating in the west. “Thunder storm coming as sure as guns is guns.”
“Well, we’ll ride on, and if we have to take to shelter I guess we
can find it,” Jerry said. “We don’t mind a little rain. We’re out for
practice.”
“Well, good luck to ye,” called the hotel man after the three boys, as
they rode down the village street. “Stop in agin when ye’re in this
direction.”
For a time it seemed as if the prediction of the storm was not going to
be verified. The bank of clouds grew no larger, and the sun still shone.
The boys speeded up a bit as they struck a stretch of good road.
“Hark! What was that?” asked Ned.
“Sounded like thunder,” replied Jerry.
There was no doubt of it a minute later, for the distant rumble of the
sky-artillery could easily be distinguished. The wind, which had died
away, began to blow stronger, and the clouds spread over the heavens and
were blacker.
“It won’t break for half an hour,” was Ned’s opinion. “We can ride on
through a little rain, but if it gets too bad we can turn into some
barn.”
In less than fifteen minutes the first drops splashed down. The rumble
of thunder grew louder, and there were vivid spurts and tongues of
lightning leaping across the black vapor masses.
Crack! sounded a report so loud that it seemed as if lightning had
struck near by. For a moment there was no apparent increase in the fury
of the storm. Then came a flash so bright that it seemed as if the whole
heavens had been lighted up. It was followed by a terrifying crash that
fairly shook the earth, and then came a deluge of water that almost hid
the three boys one from another as it poured down from the clouds.
“We’d better get out of this!” cried Jerry. “It seems to be getting
worse. Put on full speed! I saw a house a little way ahead. We’ll stop
there until this is over!”
Ned and Bob could just hear Jerry through the noise the storm made,
though the boy was shouting at the top of his voice.
The storm was at its height now. The lightning seemed incessant, and
the thunder claps followed one after the other so closely that it was
a continual roar. The wind was a regular gale, driving the rain with
stinging force into the faces of the riders.
“Here we are!” yelled Jerry presently. “Turn in!”
Dimly through the rain Ned and Bob could see their chum steering through
a drive-way alongside of a white house on the left of the highway. They
followed him, and soon found themselves in front of a barn, to which the
drive-way led.
“Hurry up inside!” Jerry called. “And bring the machines in with you!”
The motors were stopped and three drenched boys trundled them into the
shelter of the barn, the doors of which Jerry had found unlocked, and
had managed to open.
“Whew! This is a storm!” exclaimed Ned, wiping the water from his eyes.
“Storm! I should say so--terrible--fearful! Worst one in twenty-one
years! Hundreds of people struck! Houses burned! Barns blown over!
Awful! Awful! Hello! Bob, Ned and Jerry! Where’d you come from? Glad to
see you--come in--shut the door--get up in the hay and dry off--this is
the worst ever!” and then the voice, that had uttered all this in one
breath stopped, and the three chums who had started in surprise as the
torrent of words began, turned to behold their friend Andy Rush.
“Well, how in the world did you get here?” asked Jerry, taking off his
cap and wringing the water from it.
“On a visit--my Aunt Jane lives here--nice lady--she’ll be glad to see
you--lots to eat--I’m having a fine time--came out here to feed the
horse--storm came up--I didn’t want to get wet--say how’d you get here?”
“The same old Andy,” murmured Ned to Bob. “He’ll beat the storm for
wind.”
“We were going to Huntsville on our motors,” Jerry explained, “and we
got caught in the deluge. Do you suppose your aunt will mind if we stay
here a while?”
“Not a bit--glad to have you--Whoop! That was a cracker--bet it struck
the house!” cried Andy, as a louder clap of thunder than usual fairly
shook the barn.
Andy ran to the door and peered through a crack in the direction of the
house.
“Nope, it’s all right,” he called, in a sort of disappointed tone. “No
damage done--but say--I’m glad you happened to strike this place--how’s
things in Cresville? I’ve been here a week--fishing--riding
horses--milking cows--lots of fun--can’t you stay a few days--I know a
dandy place to fish--catch big suckers--chub--Aunt Jane will give you
lots to eat--whoop!”
Andy could not seem to keep still. He hurried around in the barn, and,
to give vent to his feelings he crawled up on a high beam, and jumped
down in a big pile of hay.
The three chums were laughing so they could hardly speak. When they
ceased Jerry thanked Andy for the invitation, but said they had made
other plans.
“But you can stay all night,” suggested Andy, calming down a bit. “The
roads will be bad after this storm. You can go to Huntsville in the
morning. It’s only ten miles from here.”
The idea appealed to the boys. The storm showed no signs of stopping,
and they knew it would be impossible to go on while it lasted. As Andy
had said, they could proceed in the morning, and there was no special
need of reaching Huntsville anyhow, except that they wanted to carry out
the arrangements they had made, and make a trip of over a hundred miles.
The evening was pleasantly spent in talking, singing and playing games.
Andy’s uncle wanted the three chums to remain over a day or two, but,
though they thanked him for the invitation they decided to push on the
next morning, complete their scheduled trip, and then return home.