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[Illustration:
UNDER THE PRESSURE OF BOTH WIND AND CLAW-WHEEL,
SHE HIT ONLY THE HIGH PLACES.
_Speedwell Boys and Their Ice Racer. Page_ 199
]
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The Speedwell Boys
and Their Ice Racer
Or
Lost in the Great Blizzard
BY
ROY ROCKWOOD
AUTHOR OF “THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTORCYCLES,” “THE
DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES,” “THE GREAT
MARVEL SERIES,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
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BOOKS FOR BOYS
BY ROY ROCKWOOD
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTORCYCLES
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR RACING AUTO
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR POWER LAUNCH
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS IN A SUBMARINE
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR ICE RACER
DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
DAVE DASHAWAY THE YOUNG AVIATOR
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS HYDRO-PLANE
DAVE DASHAWAY AROUND THE WORLD
DAVE DASHAWAY, AIR CHAMPION
THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH POLE
UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE
FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND
THROUGH SPACE TO MARS
LOST ON THE MOON
ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD
CUPPLES & LEON. CO., PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
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Copyright, 1915, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
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THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR ICE RACER
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ON THE ROAD AND ON THE ICE 1
II. A BIG IDEA 11
III. MORE THAN ONE MYSTERY 21
IV. THE “FLY-UP-THE-CREEK” 30
V. WINGED STEEL 38
VI. GETTING INTO TRIM 46
VII. OUT ON THE ROAD 55
VIII. THE PLANS 64
IX. THE BOY WHO COULDN’T TALK 70
X. COASTING 79
XI. A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH 88
XII. THE “FOLLOW ME” 96
XIII. THE STRANGER 101
XIV. GATHERING TROUBLE 109
XV. ON ISLAND NUMBER ONE 117
XVI. THE UNEXPECTED 127
XVII. IN THE DEN 137
XVIII. AN EVENING DRIVE 144
XIX. LOST IN THE BLIZZARD 152
XX. “NEVER SAY DIE!” 161
XXI. THE CRY FOR HELP 169
XXII. THE BATTLE IN THE SNOW 174
XXIII. DUMMY “GETS IN GOOD” 181
XXIV. “IT’S A RINGER!” 190
XXV. BEATING THE “STREAK O’ LIGHT” 197
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THE SPEEDWELL BOYS
AND THEIR ICE RACER
CHAPTER I
ON THE ROAD AND ON THE ICE
“Crickey! this is some snow, Dan. Never saw it come so fast in my life,”
declared Billy Speedwell earnestly, as his brother rolled the heavy cans
of milk out of the cooling room at Fifield’s.
Their new motor-truck, in which the boys picked up the milk from the
various dairies under contract to Mr. Speedwell, stood near. One at a
time the brothers lifted the heavy cans and tossed them into the wagon.
“You’ll likely see a lot more snow before _this_ winter’s over, Billy,”
grunted the older lad, as the last can was placed.
“If it gets deep in the roads we may have to go back to using Bob and
Betty and the old delivery wagons.”
“Not much!” exclaimed Dan, with confidence. “We’ve got seventy horses in
this old engine; that ought to push her through the drifts.”
“We’ll have to put the chains on her tires before we start out to-morrow
morning—unless I miss my guess. This is going to be some snow,” remarked
Billy.
“According to the almanac,” his brother responded, “we’re going to have
many big storms this winter and lots of ice. Why! there’s a regular
blizzard due before Christmas.”
“Well, I like the winter,” declared Billy. “But if the Colasha stays
frozen over we’ll not use the _Red Arrow_ again till spring.”
“No; I suppose not.”
“And with the roads deep in snow we won’t do much fast riding on either
our _Flying Feathers_, or our racing-auto.”
“Oh! there’ll be good weather for motor-car races yet.”
“That’s so,” cried Billy. “I guess we can get a bit of fun out of the
old car, eh?”
“We’ll try,” agreed Dan, who was just as much of a motor enthusiast as
his younger brother.
Billy had hopped in and taken the wheel. The motor was singing beneath
them and in a moment the electric truck lurched forward and they slid
out of the Fifield yard.
When they turned into the road, heading for home, the wind and snow
struck them with all their force.
“Some storm!” Billy muttered, with set teeth, and trying to peer ahead.
The lamps did little good in such a smother. The flakes whipped into his
face and clung to his goggles. Again and again he wiped away the
accumulated moisture with his mittened hand—thereby blurring his sight
for a moment entirely.
It was just after one of these attempts to clear his vision that the
accident happened. The truck was steaming along at a good clip, for the
Speedwells were anxious to get home to shelter and a warm supper.
Dan shouted and seized his brother’s shoulder. The latter felt the jar
as the mudguard struck the dim figure that he had only seen when the
truck was right upon it.
Down went the foot passenger, who had been plowing against the storm,
too, deaf and blind to the motor-truck. Billy shouted, but was not too
excited to stop the motor and brake the car.
He leaped into the gathering snow on one side, while Dan left the truck
on the other. Fortunately the wayfarer had been flung aside; the wheels
had not passed over him.
“He must be badly hurt, Dan!” gasped Billy, in great distress, on his
knees beside the fallen figure.
“Does he move?”
“I—I can’t tell. Try it, Dannie,” choked the younger Speedwell. “I—I’m
afraid to do so.”
Dan had the wrist of the unfortunate in his own bare fingers. “His pulse
is all right,” he said.
Just then the unknown stirred and muttered. What he said neither of the
Speedwells could understand; but they were both delighted. Certainly the
victim of the accident was far from dead!
“Who are you? Are you hurt?” asked Dan.
The other made a strange sound—it was as though he said several words,
but they were unlike any speech the boys had ever heard before.
“He can’t be intoxicated; can he?” gasped Billy.
“Why, he’s only a boy!” declared Dan, dragging the unknown into a
sitting posture in the snow.
“There’s a cut along his cheek. See! it’s bleeding.”
Billy brought out his handkerchief and wiped the blood away. The
mysterious youth—he wasn’t as old as Dan—tried to speak again. The
sounds that issued from his lips were so strange that the younger
Speedwell was startled.
“I never heard the like, Dan!” he gasped. “Is he some kind of a
foreigner?”
“It doesn’t sound human,” drawled Dan. “He must be a stranger from
Mars.”
But it was not altogether a joke, although the youth now staggered to
his feet with the aid of the brothers, one on either side. He had been
much shaken, it was evident. His cheek still bled, and he seemed
strangely weak.
“Come along home with us, old man,” Dan said, patting him on the
shoulder. “We’ll see what’s the matter with you there.”
The stranger seemed to understand. Although he could not speak
intelligibly, it was plain that he understood what the Speedwells said
to him. And he did not lack intelligence—Dan and Billy were sure of
_that_. His eyes were bright and he wasn’t at all dazed. The blow had
knocked him out for only a minute.
They helped him into the seat and again Billy started the truck. The
snow whirled down upon them faster and faster; but this time there was
no stop made until they turned in at the Speedwell gate and the outline
of the big barn and cow stables loomed before them.
Dan hurried the strange youth into the kitchen, where the odorous steam
of supper attacked them cheerfully as soon as the outer door was opened.
“What _is_ the matter?” cried Mrs. Speedwell, who was a motherly person,
as soon as she saw her older son and the strange boy. “Is he hurt? Who
is he, Daniel?”
“I don’t believe he’s badly hurt, Mother,” explained Dan. “But he
doesn’t seem able to tell——”
Again the unknown mumbled something. His eyes roved eagerly toward the
table, already laid with a bountiful repast.
“I know he’s hungry,” exclaimed Mrs. Speedwell. “Let him wash his face
and hands, Daniel, and sit down at once.”
The strange boy could do that. Carrie brought a bottle of antiseptic and
little ’Dolph stood by and watched the stranger in childish curiosity.
In a few moments Billy and their father came in, and then all sat down
to the table.
The visitor was undeniably hungry. Adolph could scarcely eat his own
supper he was so greatly interested in seeing the unknown youth “mow
away” the heaping plateful good-natured Mr. Speedwell put before him.
“Why!” declared Mrs. Speedwell, “that young fellow was pretty near
starved. And he’s only a boy, too! What can his folks be thinking of——?”
The visitor looked at her, smiled, and nodded. He tried to say
something, too, but it was such a jumble of sounds that they all looked
amazed, and even the boys’ father shook his head.
“That certainly beats _me_!” he exclaimed. “What do you think he means,
Mother?”
“I am sure I do not know. But we must find out about him. He ought not
to be wandering around alone.”
“On a night like this, too!” from Dan.
“Oh, we’ll put him up,” said Billy, quickly. “Won’t we, Mom?”
“Surely, my son,” agreed his mother.
“Maybe he is some kind of a foreigner,” said Carrie, the boys’ sister.
“Sounds more like hog-Latin,” chuckled Billy, to his brother.
“Sh! he can understand English well enough, even if he doesn’t speak it
plainly,” said the older boy.
“Guess you are right there,” agreed Billy.
The entire family was deeply interested in the youth. He had been hungry
indeed; and when supper was finished he appeared sleepy, too.
“No knowing how far he had tramped in the snow and storm before you boys
ran across him,” Mr. Speedwell observed.
“We didn’t exactly run across him,” Billy said, with a chuckle. “But we
come pretty near it, Dad. Too near for comfort.”
At any rate, Mrs. Speedwell and Carrie prepared a room for the stranger.
He had a suit of Dan’s pajamas to sleep in, and little ’Dolph had become
so friendly with him that he insisted on the visitor’s taking to bed
with him one of Adolph’s newest and most precious toys—an air-gun.
The visitor retired after saying something that must have been a
grateful response to Mrs. Speedwell’s kindliness.
“By gracious!” exclaimed Mr. Speedwell, slapping his knee, “that surely
sounds like English—only he mumbles it so. Sounds just as though he were
tongue-tied.”
“He surely isn’t dumb,” agreed Dan.
“Not at all,” Billy added. “But I never heard anybody as tongue-tied as
all _that_.”
The Speedwells were not late to bed—especially on such a night as this.
The wind howled and the snow continued until midnight; but when the
alarm clock awoke Billy and Dan in their room at two o’clock, the storm
had ceased and a faint strip of moon was struggling amidst the breaking
clouds.
The snow was not too deep for the auto-truck, although the brothers
could not get over their long route as quickly as usual. School was in
session and Dan and Billy put in full time every school day, in spite of
the milk delivery.
They were spinning out the river road towards Colonel Sudds’s place,
beyond the Darringford Machine Shops, about half past seven, with only a
few more customers to deliver to, when Billy caught sight of something
on the river that interested him immensely.
“Look at that flyer, Dan!” he cried. “Iceboat, sure as you are an inch
high!”
“I’m several feet more than an inch tall, Billy,” chuckled his brother,
“so that _must_ be an iceboat and no hallucination.”
“Don’t pull any of the ‘high brow stuff,’ as Biff Hardy calls it,”
returned slangy Billy Speedwell. “And tell me, pray, who owns an iceboat
around Riverdale?”
“I didn’t even suppose the ice was thick enough to bear a boat,”
returned Dan, who was quite as surprised at the appearance of the
swooping craft as his brother.
The river bank fell abruptly from the edge of the road. Dan had brought
the truck to a halt, for both boys were immensely interested.
Anything that flew like that craft on the ice below, was bound to hold
the attention of the brothers. They were well named, their chums at the
Riverdale Academy declared. Billy Speedwell had never yet traveled fast
enough to suit him, and Dan was just as much of a “speed maniac.”
However, Dan’s natural caution usually kept the brothers from reckless
racing of any kind; but they had won prizes and made records with their
motorcycles, racing car, and motorboat.
Now they stared hard at the craft flying down the river toward the
buildings belonging to the Colasha Boat Club. The ice was firm in
patches, but from this height the Speedwells could see that there were
open strips of water, yards in width.
The tides did not affect the river much so far from its mouth; yet there
was some brine in it and despite the severe cold of the last few days,
the ice was not entirely safe.
“Two fellows in her,” announced Billy.
“I see ’em.”
“And just as reckless as they can be. See there! Don’t they see that
channel ahead? My goodness, Dan! It’s fifty feet wide if it is a foot!”
“You’re right, Billy; they’re going to have a spill!”
“Worse than that,” cried the younger brother, and he hopped out of his
seat. “Come on, Dan! there’s going to be something doing down there in
another minute. We’re going to be needed——”
He halted in his speech, for at that very moment the skimming iceboat
shot over the edge of the firm ice, its runners cut through the
shell-like crystal beyond, and the heavy body of the boat splashed into
the open water.
Its momentum carried it far; but only the front runner hit the ice on
the other side of the open channel. The runner slipped under the firm
ice, and the careening boat stopped. With a crash heard plainly up on
the highroad, the mast went by the board, and the craft and its
passengers disappeared under the falling canvas.
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