THE STOWAWAY
“Like old times, isn’t it?” suggested Ned, who sat beside Jerry.
“It sure is,” agreed the tall lad. “After all, in spite of the fact
that we’ve had some cracking good times in our motor boat, and in the
airship above the clouds, there’s nothing like a good car for a change.
She has great pulling power,” he added, nodding toward the hood of the
automobile, where the powerful engine was chugging away. “Watch her
take this hill on high,” he went on.
“She’ll never do it,” Ned retorted.
“Watch,” said Jerry, and he steered the machine up an incline on the
main highway that led out of Cresville.
“She’s doing it!” commented Bob, who was in a rear seat.
“I take my hat off to you, Jerry,” admitted Ned, as the crest of the
hill was reached. “You certainly know how to work her.”
“It’s all in the motor,” said the tall lad. “Having her gone over, and
the valves reground, was just what she needed.”
“Well, we’ll need all the power we can crowd into her before we get
to the end of this trip,” declared Bob. “We’ve never made such a long
journey in this big car before.”
“That’s right,” assented Jerry. “But she’ll do it. And say, maybe we
won’t have good times when we get out to the ranch! Your father says
there are big level stretches of country there, Ned, just the place for
starting and landing our airship.”
“Fine!” cried Ned. “We’ll whoop things up when we get out among the
cowboys.”
“They may whoop things up for us,” commented Jerry.
“What do you mean?” asked Bob.
“Oh, nothing, only you know they may class us as tenderfeet, and start
to put a few tricks over on us.”
“I’d like to see ’em try it!” blustered the stout lad. “This isn’t our
first trip West.”
“No, but they don’t know that,” laughed Jerry. “However, there’s no use
crossing a bird in the hand until the well runs dry,” and with this
misquoting of proverbs the tall steersman gave his attention to the
business before him, which, at that particular moment, consisted in
passing a heavily-laden truck at a narrow place in the road.
“Watch your step,” warned Ned.
Jerry nodded his head, but did not answer.
“Better give him a blast, hadn’t you?” suggested Bob. “He’s one of
those road hogs, I guess, and there’s a bad dip on the side where we
have to pass. Give him a toot.”
Jerry stretched his hand out and pressed the button of the electric
horn. Its screeching tone filled the air but the driver of the big
auto-truck ahead gave no sign of heeding. His machine chugged on its
way.
“He isn’t going to give over,” said Ned in a low voice.
“Guess I’ll have to brush by,” came from the tall lad. “Hold fast
everybody!”
With that Jerry pressed down on the accelerator pedal. There was a
throbbing burst of speed as the motor took the increased flow of gas.
Then Jerry opened the muffler and a sound ensued that was like a small
Gatling gun in action. At the same instant, with a great burst of
speed, the big car fairly shot past the offending truck, Jerry with
steady eyes and hands guiding her neatly. There was, indeed, but barely
room to pass, and it was such a close shave that there was but a bare
six inches between the left wheels of the boys’ machine and the edge of
the road which, at this point fell away in a sharp decline.
But Jerry did it, and as he passed the truck the rear luggage carrier
on the touring car brushed the mud guards of the other vehicle. At the
same instant Jerry gave a screech on the electric horn, and he and his
chums as they rushed past gave a wild yell.
They had a glance of the startled face of the driver who must have
thought a runaway locomotive had nearly run him down, for he swerved
over to the right so suddenly that his wheels skidded and he had to jam
on the brakes to avoid danger.
“Serves him right!” commented Ned. “Next time he’ll use only his half
of the road. Good work, Jerry.”
The tall lad nodded grimly and then slowed down the pace. The boys were
well out of Cresville now.
“Are we going to stop anywhere?” asked Bob, after a period of talk and
speculation on what would happen when they reached the ranch.
“For what?” asked Ned. “Of course we’ve got to stop some time, but
we’ve just got started.”
“I guess he means stop to eat,” chuckled Jerry.
“Huh! That’s where you’re away off!” laughed the stout lad. “We don’t
need to stop to eat. I’ve got the little refrigerator well filled and
there’s lots of other stuff, too. We can keep right on going and eat as
we go. I’ll hand you fellows out something now if you want it,” he went
on, and there was a trace of eagerness in his voice.
“That’s one thought for us and two for himself!” chuckled Jerry. “I
guess he’s hungry again, though how he manages always to keep up an
appetite gets me. His system would be worth a fortune to a doctor
that had to give his patients a tonic to make them eat. Give us the
combination, Bob!”
“I’ll give you a sandwich,” was the retort, and the fleshy youth began
delving around in the rear of the car--that portion given over to the
stowage of cots and other necessaries used when they camped out for the
night.
“Hum! This is funny!” exclaimed Bob a moment later.
“What is?” Ned queried.
“Why, I put a package of sandwiches--some chicken ones mother made--and
some of her dandy cookies back here just before we started, but I can’t
find it now. You fellows haven’t been grubbing in here, have you?” he
asked.
“Nary a grub,” declared Jerry. “Guess you ate ’em yourself, Bob, and
forgot about it.”
“I did not! But I’ll take another look and--double-jointed mud
turtles!” he cried a second later, while he tumbled backward into the
rear seat he had left to delve in the after-part of the car.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Ned and Jerry, together.
“Something--or somebody’s--back there!” Bob sputtered.
“Somebody?” repeated Jerry.
“Back where?” Ned questioned.
“Back in there among the bunks,” was the answer. “I--I put my hand on a
face.”
“A face!” cried Jerry. “What in the world is he talking about? Did that
chocolate go to your head, Bob?”
“It was a face!” insisted the stout lad. “I--I felt the nose and--and
spectacles. It was warm and soft and--and----”
At that moment there was a movement in the rear of the car, in
the space behind the seats. Something--or somebody to be more
correct--arose and started forward. The boys had a glimpse of a
face--the face with a nose as Bob had described it.
And then, as Jerry brought the car to a sudden stop, with an
application of the screeching brakes, the boys, looking back, cried in
unison:
“Professor Snodgrass!”
“At your service!” beamed the little scientist as he yawned and rubbed
his eyes. “I must have fallen asleep,” he added, casually.
“Fallen asleep!” repeated Jerry, wonderingly.
“Where did you come from?” asked Bob.
“And how did you get there?” Ned cried.
“Well, I believe an explanation is due you,” said the professor in his
gentle, classroom voice. “You remember inviting me to go with you on
this trip, I suppose?” he continued, and it was exactly as though he
was about to explain something difficult in a scientific way.
“Sure, I asked you to come with us,” admitted Jerry. “And when you
didn’t show up we left word for you to follow us to Wyoming. But we’re
glad you’re with us now. Only----”
“No doubt my presence here is puzzling,” went on the bald-headed
collector of bugs. “But this morning, when I awakened, I had a very
severe headache. I sometimes get them when I mix the chemicals with
which I preserve my specimens. I have a headache remedy I use on such
occasions, but I must have taken a little too much this time, for when
I reached here I felt so weak and faint that I was not able to go into
your house.
“Then, too, I did not want to alarm your good mother, Ned. So, as I
saw the auto here, and knew from past experience that there were cots
in it, I thought it would be a good plan to go in and lie down until I
felt better.
“I did so. The medicine stopped my headache, but it evidently threw me
into a heavy sleep, for I did not realize anything until just now when
I felt something fluttering over my face. I fancied it was a moth I was
trying to catch.”
“That was me, feeling around for the sandwiches,” explained Bob, with
a laugh. “I touched your face and it startled me.”
“Oh, sandwiches!” exclaimed the professor understandingly. “Some sort
of package fell to the floor of the car when I stretched out here.
I was too tired to see what it was. Perhaps that was what you were
looking for.”
It proved to be, and the boys and the professor were soon eating
sociably together, while Bob suggested that if the sandwiches were not
sufficient there was a hotel a short distance ahead where they could
stop.
“The professor might want to get something else for his headache,”
suggested the stout lad.
“Oh, no, thank you. It is quite cured I am glad to say,” remarked the
scientist.
“That fact won’t prevent Bob from wanting to stop at the hotel,”
laughed Jerry, and it did not. In fact, the sandwiches were none too
satisfying for the hungry youths, and even Jerry admitted that the
prospect of a hotel meal was not displeasing. So they stopped, much to
Bob’s delight.