A WILD RIDE
Rick and Chot seemed to feel a thrill go through them at these words.
What was going to happen? Something exciting they hoped. Perhaps robbers
were going to “hold them up,” and certainly the scene was wild enough to
imagine almost anything taking place.
“Quiet, Ruddy!” ordered Rick, for the dog was trying to leap from the
car.
Suddenly there came a most vivid flash of lightning—brighter than any
that had yet presaged the coming of the blast. It was followed by a clap
of thunder, coming so closely after the glare as to indicate that the
storm was very near—if not ready to break instantly.
And in that startling flare the occupants of the automobile saw
something that caused them to gasp in fear.
[Illustration: The machine came to a stop not five feet from the broken
bridge.]
For the machine had come to a stop not five feet from the edge of a
broken bridge—a bridge that spanned a deep and rocky ravine, and had
they rolled into it not one might have escaped death.
For a moment no one spoke—even Ruddy ceased his howls and his frantic
efforts to get out of the auto. And then, as another vivid flash came,
and more details of the broken bridge impressed themselves on the
visions of Mr. Campbell and the boys, there were gasps of relief at the
danger escaped.
“Say,” exclaimed Chot with a show of righteous indignation, “it’s
dangerous to have bridges like that—all broken. They ought to have some
sort of a warning.”
“That’s right!” agreed Rick. “There ought to be a red lamp here!”
“There may have been,” said Mr. Campbell, “and the wind may have blown
it out. I can’t believe any one who knew of this broken bridge would
neglect to put out a warning sign. That is unless the bridge has just
collapsed. We’ll take a look. But I think we owe our lives to Ruddy.”
“Do you think he knew about it?” asked Chot in an awed voice.
“It seems so; doesn’t it?” asked Rick. “He howled just at the right time
to stop us; didn’t he?”
“He surely did,” agreed Mr. Campbell. “His howls and the queer way he
acted convinced me that something was wrong which we couldn’t see or
know about. So I thought it best to stop suddenly, though at the time I
felt it might be a foolish and superstitious notion. But it wasn’t.”
“How do you s’pose Ruddy knew about it?” inquired Chot.
“Same as dogs know when a person’s going to die,” said Rick. “Dogs
always howl the night before a person’s going to die.”
“Who told you that?” asked Mr. Campbell, as he prepared to alight from
the car.
“Sartin Sure, the colored man who works for us—he told me,” said the
boy. “He said he never knew it to fail, that when he heard a dog howl,
the next day somebody would be dead.”
“That’s all bosh!” laughed Mr. Campbell. “I admit that a dog may howl in
the night, and somewhere in our city a person may be dead next day. But
that doesn’t prove anything. Dogs will howl more on moonlight nights
than any other, but more persons don’t die on such nights than on nights
when there is no moon.
“It’s just a coincidence—an accidental happening so to speak. Dogs can’t
possibly know when a person is going to die—that is unless they are
right with them, and perhaps a dog who has been associated with his
master many years may then, in some strange way, sense when the end
comes.”
“But don’t you think Ruddy knew about this broken bridge?” asked Rick.
Mr. Campbell was silent for a moment as he alighted from the auto,
followed by Rick, Chot and Ruddy.
“Well,” came the answer at last, “I won’t say that he actually _knew_
about it, in the way that we would have known had some one told us. But
he must have _sensed_ it, just as Ruddy may often have known, Rick, the
moment you came in the house when he was asleep, though you may have
entered so quietly as to make no noise.”
“Yes, I’ve had that happen,” admitted Rick.
“Well, perhaps in the same strange, mysterious way Ruddy may have sensed
that there was something wrong with this bridge and he howled—the only
way he had of warning us. And he certainly did warn us.”
“In time, too,” added Chot. “If you’d gone a few feet farther—”
He did not finish the sentence, but they all knew what he meant. In
silence they walked to the edge of the broken bridge, and in the glare
of the car headlights, which gleamed sufficiently when the lightning was
not flashing more brightly, they saw what had happened.
The bridge was old and rotten—perhaps it would not have held up the
weight of the auto—and the two main supporting beams had broken close to
the end nearest the travelers. The bridge had fallen into the ravine,
the farther end supported on the other side like a hinge. And as more
lightning flashes came they revealed the sharp and jagged rocks
below—rocks on which they would have been impaled and smashed but for
Ruddy’s timely warning.
They talked it all over again—waiting there for the storm to break. They
wondered how Ruddy could have known—they even wondered if he really did
know. Was it not all just a coincidence? Was not Ruddy merely howling
because he didn’t like lightning? And did not Mr. Campbell stop
instinctively, as, perhaps, you have stopped suddenly, and for no reason
when about to step into danger?
These were questions that never could be answered. So they gave up
trying to find suitable replies, and patted Ruddy with thankful feelings
in their hearts over their escape from danger. As for Ruddy, he seemed
content, now that he had warned his friends, and howled no more.
There came another vivid glare of the sky-fireworks, followed by a
resounding crash, at which Ruddy gave a little howl and snuggled closer
to Rick. Then the silence that ensued was broken by a curious pattering
sound all around the travelers who stood near the car.
“Rain!” exclaimed Rick.
“That’s right,” echoed Mr. Campbell. “We’d better get under cover.”
He led the way to the automobile and began getting out the side curtains
from the overhead pocket beneath the top. The boys helped him, and
though it was hard work to adjust them in the increasing wind and
darkness, they managed to get them in place. The lightning was a
hinderance rather than a help for though it was brilliantly light one
moment, it was intensely dark the next, and the darkness lasted longer
than did the light.
However they were finally as well protected as possible against the rain
which came down with increasing volume as they worked at the side
curtains, and when they were at last sheltered in the car there
descended a veritable deluge.
“What are you going to do, Mr. Campbell?” asked Rick as the electric
starter spun the fly wheel and set the engine in motion.
“I’m going to get off this road,” was the answer. “We can’t go any
farther this way on account of the broken bridge. I don’t know any other
back route to Elmwood. I was foolish to take this short cut. I should
have stuck to the main road. But I guess we’ll find some place we can
stay all night, for I think this storm is going to last and get worse.”
Certainly it seemed to bear out that prediction, for the wind, the rain,
the thunder and lightning produced an effect that was not at all
pleasant. Ruddy curled up in the rear among the blankets and baggage,
and Rick and Chot almost wished they could forget everything as the dog
seemed to be doing. He had no responsibility.
But Rick and Chot were not shirkers. They were willing to do all they
could to help in this time of stress and trouble. They were not Boy
Scouts for nothing. They wanted to play their parts like men if need
arose. And so, as they sat on the front seat with Mr. Campbell—for there
was room for all three—they were on the alert for any further danger
that might come up.
Mr. Campbell began carefully backing the car to turn it, and this was
not easily done as the road was narrow where it approached the bridge.
Just as he got the machine around, and was about to start off, there was
a crash behind and the sound of broken glass.
“What’s that?” cried the man at the wheel.
“We’ve smashed something,” said Rick. “I’ll see what it is.”
“Here, put your rain coat on and take a flash light,” ordered Mr.
Campbell, reaching forward into one of the side pockets. “No use getting
any wetter.”
The boys had brought rain coats with them. They were in the rear of the
machine and Rick quickly donned his and slipped out back to see what had
happened. In the flash of the pocket electric light he saw where the
auto had backed into a pole that had held a red danger lantern.
Doubtless this had been placed to warn travelers of the broken bridge,
but the red light was out when our friends drove up.
“You ran right into it,” Rick explained to Mr. Campbell. “It’s all
smashed—I mean the red lantern is.”
“Well, it had probably burned out, anyhow,” was his reply. “That’s why
it gave us no warning. But I wish we had some way of letting others who
might come along here know that the bridge is down. I’ll stop at the
first house we pass and leave word. But meanwhile some one may happen to
come this road, though it isn’t likely in the storm.”
“Couldn’t we put a rail, or something across the road?” suggested Chot.
“I mean something that would break easy so it wouldn’t damage any car
that ran into it. When they hit it they’d stop, and then they could see
the broken bridge.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Mr. Campbell. “We’ll do it. As you say,
they’ll stop when they crash into a light rail or small tree, and they
won’t be going very fast—not on this road in this storm.”
It was not a very agreeable task to get out in the mud, water and
darkness, amid glaring lightning and resounding thunder and fix some
sort of warning. But at last they managed to span the road with a light
barrier that would easily break when a car ran into it. And once a
motorist crashed into this harmless obstruction he would, very likely,
look ahead to see the reason it was placed across the road. Then he
would discover the broken bridge.
“There, it’s the best we can do,” said Mr. Campbell as they entered the
machine again. “Say,” he suddenly asked, “aren’t you boys hungry?”
“A little,” admitted Rick.
“Same here,” echoed Chot.
“Well, why didn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t know you had anything to eat,” said Rick.
“I haven’t very much, but at the last place we stopped I had them put me
up some sandwiches and a thermos bottle of hot chocolate. I reckon it
will come in good now; eh?”
“Oh, boy!” murmured Chot.
“It’s better than a Thanksgiving turkey!” exclaimed Rick.
Mr. Campbell got out the little lunch, and never had an elaborate meal
tasted better to the boys—or to Ruddy also, for he had his share of
sandwich ends and was grateful.
Then, heartened and warmed—for the rain was cold in spite of the summer
weather that had prevailed—they started off. If the road had been hard
to travel earlier in the evening, before the rain, it was doubly so now.
The auto lurched and swayed from side to side. Now one wheel would
descend into some mud hole and again another would slip into a miniature
ravine, throwing all in the car to one side.
All the while the flood of rain kept up, the lightning glared and the
thunder, at times, was almost deafening. The only occupant of the car on
that wild ride, who seemed in comfort was Ruddy, well protected in the
rear among the baggage.
“Let me know if any of you see a light ahead,” suggested Mr. Campbell to
the boys. “I’ve got to keep my eyes on the road,” and as he spoke the
steering wheel was almost jerked from his hands by the lurch of the car.
“Do you mean the lights of another auto coming?” asked Chot.
“Any glimmer at all,” was the answer. “What I’d like to see would be the
lights of some hotel, or inn. We can’t travel this way all night. We’ve
got to put up somewhere.”
They rode along for perhaps ten minutes more and then Rick suddenly
called:
“I see a light!”