A BREAKDOWN
During the meal at the hotel, Professor Snodgrass gave further details
of how he had happened to become a stowaway in the big car. He had
finished his work at Boxwood Hall and had made his plans to go on the
trip with the boys. He had spent the night at the hotel in Cresville,
for he had arrived there late, and he said he did not want to go to the
Slade home and disturb their domestic arrangements.
But instead of going to bed in the hotel he sat up all night, as he
had often done before, preserving his specimens and looking for signs
of the rare moth he wanted to add to his collection. Then he went on
to Ned’s home in the morning, unconventionally getting into one of the
automobile bunks where he fell asleep from the effects of the headache
remedy, as described.
“Well, guess we might as well get under way again,” remarked Jerry,
at the conclusion of the meal. “Hoist up the anchor, Ned, and I think
you’d better take the helm. I want a rest.”
“All right, Cap. Where’s Bob?” Ned asked, for the stout lad was not in
sight. He came into the dining-room a moment later, carrying a bulky
package, and there was a guilty look on his face as he saw his chums
looking at it.
“Well, for the love of butter and eggs!” cried Jerry. “What have you
there, Son?”
“This is bait for white-tailed night moths,” Bob answered, grinning. “I
got some from the chef to use in the traps the professor is going to
set.”
“He has you there, Jerry!” laughed Ned. “Go to it, Bob! I’ll help eat
’em.”
They found Professor Snodgrass eagerly looking along the shady side of
the hotel, a large magnifying glass in his hand, and behind him stood a
group of men observing him with puzzled eyes.
“I was looking for a small, rare bug, green in color, that I saw
crawling on the side of the hotel,” the professor explained. “I have
only one in my collection, and if anything should happen to that I
would be at a great loss. I saw it crawling here a while ago, but it
must have gone down a crack. However, I won’t delay you boys, though I
should very much like to have that bug.”
“Is this it?” asked one of the observers, making a sudden grab for
something in the air. He brought what he had caught to the professor,
and the latter’s eager glance gave way to disappointment when he saw a
green grasshopper fly from the opened hand.
“Oh, pshaw!” cried the man. “He’s gone!”
“It wasn’t what I wanted,” returned the professor with a smile. “Thank
you, though. I shall have to try again some other time. Now, boys, I’m
ready to go on with you.”
The rest of that day passed uneventfully. Good time was made and when
evening approached the boys and the professor had put about two hundred
miles between themselves and Cresville, and were that much nearer
Square Z ranch.
“What’s it going to be--camp out or sleep in a hotel?” asked Ned, who
had remained at the wheel since dinner time. “That sign we passed a
while ago said there was a hotel about five miles further on.”
“Let’s camp out,” suggested Bob. “It’s nice and warm, and this looks to
be a good place,” and he indicated a little group of trees across some
green fields that bordered the wood. “We could run the car up in there
and be well out of the way.”
“I’m willing,” assented Jerry.
“Then we’ll go to it,” declared Ned. “Let’s see if we can get across
the fields safely.”
They stopped the car and walked on a little way. They came to what was
evidently a wagon road leading to the woods, and, after taking down
the bars of the rail fence, the automobile was driven to the edge of
the little patch of woods, being left for the night in a small clearing.
“And now for an old-fashioned camping-out time!” cried Bob, as he
leaped from his seat. “We’ll have a fire and everything. I brought a
couple of dressed chickens along, and we can broil them over the coals
and----”
“Chunky, you’re a lad after my own heart!” cried Jerry. “Forgive all
the fun we’ve poked at you.”
“Same here,” echoed Ned.
“Sure!” agreed Bob, good-naturedly. “Now for the fire!”
“I’ll get the wood,” offered Jerry, “and we’ll let you broil the
chickens. You can make a better job of it than either Ned or I.”
“Well, I’ll do my best,” and Bob seemed modestly proud of the honor
thrust upon him.
“I don’t fancy standing over a bed of coals turning a broiler,”
whispered Jerry to Ned as the two set about collecting dry wood. “Let
Bob do it.”
“Sure, he’s tickled to pieces,” and Ned chuckled.
To do Bob justice, he made good work of broiling the chickens, as even
Professor Snodgrass admitted, and he was a man who cared less about
eating than any one the boys knew.
[Illustration: HE MADE GOOD WORK OF BROILING THE CHICKENS.]
“Well, this is something like!” exclaimed Ned, as he and his chums sat
about the glowing fire after supper and talked over the events of the
day, speculating on what lay before them.
“You’ve said it!” agreed Jerry, leaning back comfortably against a tree.
The professor was wandering about with a small net and an electric
flashlight, trying to gather bugs in the early twilight.
The tent had been put in place--that is, the curtains had been extended
out at the rear and the folding cots had been set up. Two bunks were in
the automobile proper and it was agreed that Professor Snodgrass should
have one of these, the boys preferring to occupy the tent, in which
four could sleep.
“Well, I guess I’ll turn in,” announced Bob, with a sleepy yawn, when
their watches showed it was about nine o’clock. “We want to get an
early start in the morning.”
“Yes, now that dad has given us the chance to catch the cattle thieves,
we don’t want to waste too much time on the road getting to the ranch,”
agreed Ned. “No telling what may happen when we’re not there.”
The boys had been up early that morning making arrangements for the
start, and they were tired. So it did not take any of them long to drop
off to sleep once they had stretched out. Professor Snodgrass said
he would stay up a little longer on the chance of gathering some rare
night-flying insect, but as he could get to his bunk through the front
entrance of the automobile he would not disturb the boys.
Along about the middle of the night, Bob, who slept near the outer
entrance to the tent, was awakened by feeling some heavy object fall
across him, while a voice cried in his ear:
“I’ve got him!”
Only half awake the stout lad gave a yell.
“Grab ’em, boys! Grab ’em!” he shouted. “Cattle thieves! Grab ’em and
hold ’em for the sheriff!”
“For the love of porous plasters!” exclaimed Jerry, sitting on his cot.
“What is it?”
“Bob has the nightmare,” suggested Ned, disgustedly.
But as Jerry switched on the little flashlight near the head of his bed
the gleam revealed Professor Snodgrass just arising from where he had
fallen across Bob, and on the face of the little scientist was a look
of triumph.
“I’ve got him!” he cried, holding up a hand which clutched the folds of
a small net. “It’s the big white moth I’ve been after, and which I sat
up all night to get! I caught him!”
“Oh, I thought you meant you had me!” exclaimed Bob. “It’s all right.
No damage done. Guess I must have been dreaming we were out on the
ranch after the rustlers.”
“It sounded that way,” commented Jerry with a cheerful grin.
“I’m sorry I disturbed you,” apologized the professor. “I was roaming
about outside your tent when I saw this moth alight near the entrance.
I didn’t want to miss it, so I made a jump for it, and I suppose I went
right on through.”
“Like a fullback going through tackle for a touchdown,” commented Bob.
“But there’s no harm done, Professor.”
To any one else the scientist’s actions would, perhaps, have been
surprising. But the boys knew his anxiety to get a rare specimen would
cause him to do almost anything. The call of science never was unheeded
by Professor Snodgrass.
He apologized to the boys for disturbing them, but they made light of
the matter, for he was such a good friend and such jolly company in
spite of the fact that he was much older than they that they would have
done almost anything in the world for him.
Exulting over the prize he had caught, the scientist was content now to
retire, and the camp was soon quiet again.
All were up early the next morning, Ned and Jerry being awakened by the
aromatic odor of coffee and bacon. They looked out and saw Bob engaged
in the preparation of the breakfast at a fire he had kindled.
“Happy New Year!” he called to them as they stuck their heads out of
the tent. “Come on! Seven o’clock whistle blew long ago.”
Seldom had a breakfast tasted better, they all agreed, and thus well
fortified they again took up their journey.
“Looks like rain,” commented Ned at the wheel, after they had had
dinner and saw, with satisfaction, that they had made good progress.
“So it does,” agreed Jerry, with a glance at the clouds. “But it takes
more than rain to stop us. We’ll keep on.”
The automobile was well adapted for traveling through a storm, for
it could be enclosed completely. It began to drizzle shortly after
Ned’s remark, and this soon turned into a regular downpour. They were
in a comparatively untraveled section of the country, and were a bit
uncertain what road to take when they came to a fork. A man driving
a wagon came along in the midst of their indecision, however, and
answered their inquiry by saying:
“Both roads go to Falkenburg, but the right’s the shortest.”
“Then we’ll take that,” decided Ned, and once more they were under
way. But the shortest way is not always the best, and they had not
proceeded more than a mile before they ran into a stretch of sticky,
greasy clay on which the car at once began to skid.
“Better put the tire chains on,” suggested Jerry.
Ned, who was steering, hesitated. It was no pleasant undertaking in the
downpour.
“I think this bad stretch comes to an end a little farther on,” he
said. “I’ll chance it.”
“Drive slow, then,” warned Jerry.
Ned cut down his power and the car proceeded. But it skidded worse
than ever and Ned was on the point of stopping to get out and adjust
the chains when, with a suddenness that none foresaw, the big vehicle
swerved to one side as the brakes were applied and, a moment later,
the left rear wheel crashed hard against a big tree at the side of
the road. There was a sound of splintering wood and the rear of the
automobile sank down.
“Busted!” cried Jerry as he opened the side curtains.