[Illustration: THERE STALKED INTO THE CLEARING A NUMBER OF INDIANS.]
THE MOTOR BOYS
ON THE BORDER
Or
Sixty Nuggets of Gold
BY
CLARENCE YOUNG
AUTHOR OF “THE MOTOR BOYS,” “THE MOTOR BOYS
IN THE CLOUDS,” “THE RACER BOYS SERIES,” “THE
JACK RANGER SERIES,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
BOOKS BY CLARENCE YOUNG
=THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES=
12mo. Illustrated.
Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.
THE MOTOR BOYS
THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND
THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO
THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS
THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC
THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC
THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS
THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE ROCKIES
THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE OCEAN
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE WING
THE MOTOR BOYS AFTER A FORTUNE
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE BORDER
=THE JACK RANGER SERIES=
12mo. Finely illustrated.
Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid.
JACK RANGER’S SCHOOLDAYS
JACK RANGER’S WESTERN TRIP
JACK RANGER’S SCHOOL VICTORIES
JACK RANGER’S OCEAN CRUISE
JACK RANGER’S GUN CLUB
JACK RANGER’S TREASURE BOX
=THE RACER BOYS SERIES=
12mo. Illustrated.
Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.
THE RACER BOYS
THE RACER BOYS AT BOARDING SCHOOL
THE RACER BOYS TO THE RESCUE
THE RACER BOYS ON THE PRAIRIES
Copyright, 1913, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
=The Motor Boys on the Border=
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. QUEER ACTIONS 1
II. A TOWN GONE MAD 12
III. DISAPPOINTMENT 22
IV. AN UNEXPECTED INTERRUPTION 32
V. NODDY NIXON THREATENS 41
VI. FORMING THE SYNDICATE 49
VII. A NIGHT CHASE 56
VIII. MAROONED 63
IX. NODDY PACKS UP 75
X. AN AIRSHIP FLIGHT 84
XI. OFF FOR THE BORDER 92
XII. THE PROFESSOR IS MISSING 99
XIII. A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER 107
XIV. IN KABSPELL 117
XV. OFF IN THE MOTORSHIP 125
XVI. A FRIGHTENED SETTLEMENT 133
XVII. THE BLACKFEET 140
XVIII. BEAR STEAKS 147
XIX. ON GUARD 154
XX. A NIGHT ATTACK 164
XXI. INTO THE DEPTHS 170
XXII. A DISAPPOINTED PROFESSOR 177
XXIII. WATCHED 184
XXIV. THE LUMINOUS SNAKES 190
XXV. THE HIDDEN MAN 196
XXVI. THE EMPTY POCKET 204
XXVII. A PERILOUS SEARCH 211
XXVIII. THE SIXTY NUGGETS 217
XXIX. INTERNATIONAL COMPLICATIONS 225
XXX. A FLIGHT BY NIGHT 239
INTRODUCTION
MY DEAR BOYS:
When Jerry, Ned and Bob returned from an automobile ride one day, and
saw a great crowd around the railroad station of their home town, they
were somewhat excited. They were made more so when they saw Jim Nestor,
the foreman of the mine in which they held an interest, and another
Westerner, wildly digging on the tracks. And when they heard the
murmurs of “gold,” they did not know what to think.
And from then on they were involved in happenings that did not cease
when they set out to recover the sixty nuggets, so strangely hidden on
the border. Though the gold on the railroad tracks did not amount to
much, the other pocket of the precious yellow metal did, as you will
learn in the pages that follow.
In this book you may also read of the search Professor Snodgrass made
for some luminous snakes, and how he found them; and I have also taken
pleasure in writing for you an account of how Noddy Nixon tried to get
away from the motor boys the gold they worked so hard for, and how our
heroes braved even the perils of a band of Blackfeet Indians, who had
escaped from their reservation.
That you will like this book as well as you have the others of the
series, is the sincere wish of
Your true friend,
CLARENCE YOUNG.
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE BORDER
CHAPTER I
QUEER ACTIONS
“What’s the matter, Bob, can’t you crank an auto yet?”
“I sure can!” exclaimed a stout lad, who was bending over in front of a
big car, laboriously grinding away at the starting handle.
“Then do it,” advised a tall youth at the wheel. “Turn it over good and
hard.”
“Yes, go ahead,” put in a good-natured looking chap in one of the rear
seats. “We don’t want to stay here all day, even if it is a nice place.”
“All--right--here--she--goes!” panted stout Bob Baker, as he again
turned the crank.
There was only the noise of the flywheel spinning around; a sort of
cough and wheeze, but no whirr and throb that told of an explosion of
gas in the cylinders.
“Oh, if you can’t get her started let me try!” exclaimed Ned Slade, the
lad in the tonneau. “I thought you’d had practice enough, Bob.”
“That’s right,” remarked Jerry Hopkins, the lad at the wheel. “Keep at
it, Bob, it’ll take off some of that extra flesh.”
“Oh, you----!” began the fat lad, and then he stopped to gaze in some
astonishment at his chum, Ned, who had started to leave the rear seat,
with the evident intention of trying his hand at the crank. For on
Ned’s face there was a curious look as he gazed over Jerry’s shoulder
at the switch, just under the overhang on the dashboard of the car.
Then a broad grin illuminated Ned’s features, to be succeeded by a
hearty laugh.
“Huh!” ejaculated Bob. “I don’t see anything to go into spasms over. If
you think it’s so funny come out here and try it yourself. I never saw
such a cranky car. It went all right a while ago, and now----”
“It’s all because you don’t know how to crank it--that’s the reason
it’s cranky,” began Jerry. “I’ll show you----”
“No--don’t--Oh, ho! Sit still--Oh, me! Oh my! Wait until I get my
breath--Oh dear!” and Ned with one hand on the steersman’s shoulder
held his own side with the other to help repress his mirth.
“Well of all the----” began Bob, half in anger.
“No wonder he couldn’t crank it!” cried Ned. “You haven’t got the
switch on, Jerry. There’s no current--Oh dear! and to think that Bob
was breaking his back and never getting a spark----”
“Was that the trouble?” cried Jerry.
“It sure was,” replied Ned, and, stepping on the footboard he reached
to the dash, and snapped on the switch which connected the batteries
with the spark plug in the cylinder heads. “Now try it, Bob!” he called.
“Not much!” exclaimed the fat lad, with great determination. “I’m
done--finished! If you fellows don’t know enough to throw on the switch
after all these years of running a car, and then expect to sit there
and grin your heads off while I break my back cranking, you’re mighty
much mistaken--that’s all I’ve got to say. You may think it’s a joke,
but I don’t! I’m through with you,” and turning on his heel, after
flashing a look at his two chums, Bob Baker started off down the road
afoot.
“Here, where are you going?” called Jerry, after him.
“Home!” was the short answer, “and I’m not going out with you fellows
again in a hurry!”
Ned and Jerry looked at one another. It was the first time in a long
while that there had been any serious difference among the three chums.
“Oh, come on back!” urged Ned, for he saw that Bob was very much in
earnest. “Come on back.”
“Not on your life!” snapped Bob. “I’m through.”
“We didn’t mean anything,” went on Ned, starting after his friend.
“But it was so funny to see----”
“Ha! Ha! Joke!” sneered Bob. “If it’s so funny write it out and send it
to the humorous column. You won’t get another chance to laugh at me,
though.”
“He’s mad, all right,” murmured Ned.
“Looks so,” agreed Jerry. “Oh, I say Bob!” the tall lad went on, “come
on back. Honest, I didn’t know the switch was off. Come on back. It’s
a good ways to Cresville, and we’ve only just started the run. Come on
back, and you can steer, and I’ll crank up. And if we get a puncture
Ned and I’ll put on a new tire, and you won’t even have to get out of
the car. I mean it!”
The figure, stalking down the road in anger, was seen to hesitate the
merest trifle. But Bob did not turn around.
“That almost fetched him,” said Jerry. “Say something, Ned.”
“We’ll stop at the first place we come to, and get a bite to eat, even
if it isn’t noon,” shouted the lad who had discovered the disconnected
switch. “That ought to do the business,” he added, in lower tones.
It seemed to be, for Bob halted, appeared to be considering the matter
at length, and then turned around.
“Does all that go?” he demanded.
“Sure,” chorused Ned and Jerry.
“And about me not having to help sweat putting on a tire?”
“That’s right,” Jerry assured him. Bob came slowly back.
“All the same,” he spoke as he climbed into the tonneau, “it was no fun
cranking a car with the switch off.”
“We agree with you,” said Jerry, winking at Ned with the eye concealed
from his offended chum. “But it wasn’t intentional,” he added,
soothingly, as he went to the crank. “Go ahead, Bob, you can steer if
you want to.”
“I don’t know as I want to. If we get a puncture you might blame it on
me.”
“All right, then I’ll take the wheel,” went on Jerry, as the motor
throbbed and hummed when he had turned the crank, for the car, though a
good one, was not a self-starter.
“But everything else goes,” proceeded Bob, as the machine glided
smoothly down the road. “And we stop at the first place where we can
get sandwiches and ginger ale. I’m hungry.”
“You always----” began Ned, but Jerry stopped him with a nudge in the
ribs.
“Keep your foot on the soft pedal,” he advised, in a whisper, for the
two lads were on the front seat, with Bob in the rear. “No use getting
him ruffled again.”
The three chums had taken advantage of a fine spring day to take a ride
in their auto about the country near Cresville, a town not far from
Boston. They had not gone far before they came to a delightful spot,
where a roadside spring offered a chance to drink, and they took it. In
stopping the car, Jerry had thrown out the switch, and when, with their
thirst quenched, they wanted to start off again, the incident I have
just narrated took place.
But now everything seemed to have been smoothed out, though Bob thought
to himself that he had gotten a little the best of the bargain. He
felt sure his chums had played no trick on him, in having him crank up
without the switch being on, for it frequently had happened before that
one of them forgot to make the electrical connection.
“But I get out of that tire work,” thought Bob, as the car swung along;
“and they won’t guy me when I want something to eat. I guess we’re
even.”
“Going to any place in particular?” asked Ned of Jerry, as the tall lad
swung the machine around a curve.
“No, I just thought we’d run out for ten miles or so, and get back in
time for lunch. Or we can stop at a roadhouse, and spend the whole day
touring if you like. I was going----”
“Look out!” suddenly yelled Bob, for Jerry had turned to speak to Ned,
and his eyes were not on the road ahead. “Look out or you’ll go over
that dog!”
There was a scurrying in the dust as a yellow cur rushed from a
roadside house, directly at the auto. Bob spoke only just in time, for
Jerry, with a quick turn of the wheel, sent the car to one side with a
dangerous swerve, but avoiding the dog.
The beast, with sharp barks, seemed to enjoy the confusion he had
caused. Jerry, with muttered comments on all such dogs in general, and
this one in particular, was swinging back into the road again, when
there came a sharp hiss of air, and the auto settled slightly on one
side.
“Oh, rats!” cried Ned. “A puncture!”
“It was that dog’s fault!” exclaimed Jerry, wrathfully. “I hit that
board with a nail in it when I turned out for him. We ought to make the
man who owns him pay us for a brand new tire.”
“That’s right,” agreed Ned, while Jerry guided the disabled car beneath
a big tree, that they might take advantage of the shade in substituting
a new inner tube for the punctured one. The dog, evidently thinking
that the lads were stopping to take revenge on him, fled into the
house, his tail between his legs.
“Here’s where I watch you fellows work!” exclaimed Bob, with a chuckle.
“All right! What we said goes!” declared Jerry. “Come on, Ned. Get
busy.”
The car was soon jacked up, and the shoe taken off by Jerry, while Ned
got out a new inner tube and proceeded to partially inflate it ready to
slip it in in place of the damaged one.
“Say, this shoe sticks!” said Jerry, who was working hard. “Here, Ned,
give me a hand.”
“Can’t for a minute. I’ve got to fill this tube.”
“Aw, say, I’ll help!” exclaimed Bob, who, all the while, in spite of
the promise of immunity made to him, had fidgeted while sitting there
comfortably while his chums worked. “I can’t be as mean as all that.”
“I thought not,” remarked Jerry, and then, with the help of his fat
chum, he soon had the shoe off. The three made short work of changing
the tire; and a little later they were on their way once more.
“There’s an eating place!” exclaimed Bob eagerly, as they swung up
toward a roadside stand. “We got some dandy sandwiches there once.”
“And you haven’t forgotten it,” chuckled Ned. “All right, I’ll stand
treat. Slow up, Jerry.”
A little later the three were drinking cool ginger ale and munching the
bread and meat.
“I notice,” said Bob, as he casually took a bite, “that you fellows are
eating with about as good an appetite as I have, in spite of the fun
you made.”
“Oh, I admit I was hungry,” said Ned, as he held out his glass.
“Same here,” added Jerry. “It was working on that tire, I guess.”
It was nearly noon when they neared Cresville again, after swinging
about in a ten-mile circle. They had greatly enjoyed the little trip,
and were discussing whether or not they would take advantage of the
following Saturday for a motor boat ride, or for a spin in their
airship, since the chums possessed both those means of locomotion.
“I vote for the airship,” said Bob. “We don’t have to look out for
punctures, and there’s no danger of getting stuck as in a motor boat.”
“Well, I’d like the boat,” said Ned. “But if you want the airship I’m
willing. Noddy Nixon is back in town, though, I hear, and if we start
flying he’s almost sure to do the same thing, and generally he manages
to camp on our trail, somehow. But maybe we can shake him.”
“I guess so,” put in Jerry Hopkins. “We’ll--Hello!” he cried, suddenly
interrupting himself, as the car swung around a curve, and approached
a railroad crossing. “What’s going on at the depot?” he asked.
“There’s a crowd all right,” asserted Bob.
“An accident, I guess!” exclaimed Ned. “The through train must have
just passed along, and hit someone! Put on speed, Jerry!”
The tall lad did so, and the car shot ahead.
“No, there doesn’t seem to be anybody hurt,” spoke Bob. “I can’t see
any ambulance. The crowd seems to be watching two men who--by Jinks!
What _are_ they doing?” he finished.
“I see ’em,” added Ned. “They seem to be digging between the rails.”
“And yet they don’t look like section hands,” spoke Jerry. “They seem
more like Westerners. Look at their big hats!”
“And red shirts,” remarked Bob. “Yet they’re grubbing between the ties
for all they’re worth. That’s queer.”
“And see how excited the crowd is,” added Ned.
“Yes, and look at Mr. Hitter, the freight agent!” cried Jerry. “He’s
hopping up and down like a hen on a hot griddle. We must see what’s
going on!”
“Surest think you know!” agreed Bob. “Maybe it’s a lawsuit against the
railroad, and they’re tearing up the tracks.”
With the boys eagerly looking ahead, the auto approached nearer
the throng that surrounded two men whose strange actions seemed to
fascinate those in the throng. Then Jerry uttered a queer cry.
“Look!” he fairly shouted. “One of those men is Jim Nestor, who is in
charge of our mine in Arizona! What can he be doing East? Fellows,
there’s something queer going on here!”