CHAPTER II
A FAMILY CONFERENCE
Jerry had put on the brakes so hard that the rear wheels were locked,and they slid along a foot or more, skidding until the automobile cameto a stop on one side of the road. Then the three lads leaped out, andstarted back toward the scene of the accident.
“She’s on fire!” cried Bob, as he pointed to curling smoke arising fromthe overturned roadster.
“And the man’s under it!” yelled Ned.
“Keep moving!” shouted Jerry. “We’ve got to do something!”
Fortunately, the car was a light one, and it was tilted at such anangle that the combined strength of the three lads on the higher sideserved to turn it upright once more. The fire was under the bonnet, thecovers of which were jammed and bent.
The boys had expected to find a very seriously injured man beneaththe car, but, to their surprise, when they righted the machine, thedriver, somewhat dusty and dirty, crawled out and stood up, a fewscratches on his hands and face alone showing where he was injured,though it was evident from the manner in which he rubbed one arm thatit had been at least bruised.
There came a larger puff of smoke from beneath the car’s bonnet, and aflash of flame showed.
“Carburetor’s on fire!” cried Ned.
“Got an extinguisher?” asked Jerry of the man.
He shook his head, being either too much out of breath or too excitedover his narrow escape to talk.
“I’ll get ours!” shouted Ned, as he raced back toward their machine,climbing up the bank, down which the boys had rushed to the rescue.
Jerry and Bob forced up the bent and jammed covers of the engine, anddisclosed the fact that the fire, so far, was only in the carburetor,which had become flooded with gasoline when the car turned over.
In a few seconds Ned was back with the extinguisher, and when agenerous supply of the chemicals it contained had been squirted on theblazing gasoline, the fire went out with a smudge of smoke.
“That was a narrow escape for me, boys,” said the man, and his voiceshook a little. “I thought sure I was done for when I felt the carleaving the road. I tried to bring it back, but the turn was too muchfor me, and over I went.”
“This is a dangerous turn,” commented Jerry. “There ought to be awarning sign put up here.”
“We called to you,” Bob told him.
“I didn’t hear you,” the man said. “Boys, I want to thank you!”
He seemed overcome for a moment. Then he went on.
“Mere thanks, of course, do not express what I mean. You saved my life.I don’t believe I could have gotten out of the car alone. My legs wereheld down, and so was one arm. I’d have burned to death if you hadn’tbeen here.”
“Well, we’re glad we were here,” Jerry said. “Are you much hurt?”
“Nothing worth speaking about. Some bruises and scratches. I certainlydid have a lucky escape. My name is Hobson--Samuel Hobson,” and he drewa card from his pocket, handing it to Jerry. “I was driving a bit toofast, I guess, but I was in a hurry to get the express at Wrightville.I’m on my way West, on important business, and the only way to makeconnections is to go to Wrightville to get the fast train. So I startedin my car, intending to leave it at the garage in Wrightville. I’mafraid I’ll miss the train now.”
“Oh, I guess you’ve got time to make it,” said Jerry, with a look athis watch. “Wrightville is only three miles from here. But I’m afraidyou can’t make it in your car.”
“I guess you’ve said it,” admitted Mr. Hobson, after a quickinspection. “I can’t run my car until it’s been in the repair shop.It’ll be hard to get it back on the road, too,” he went on, as helooked at the steep bank down which he had rolled in the machine. “AndI _must_ get that train!” he exclaimed anxiously.
“I reckon we can get you to the train all right in our car,” said Bob.“We’re not in any special hurry--only out for a little ride. We’ll takeyou to the station.”
“Surely!” added Jerry. “If you feel well enough to take the ride.”
“Oh, I’m all right!” protested Mr. Hobson. “I had presence of mindenough to get out of the way of the steering wheel as I felt myselfgoing over. I’ll be very much obliged if you will take me to the depot.It is extremely important that I get my train for the West. But aboutmy car--I’ll have to leave it here, I guess.”
“Nobody can run it, that’s sure,” Ned remarked. “And if you were goingto leave it at the garage in Wrightville you could tell the man thereto come out here and get it, and tow it in for repairs.”
“That’s so, I could do that,” admitted Mr. Hobson. “I don’t know thatI’ll have time, if I make my train, to tell the garage people, though.”
“We can do that for you,” offered Jerry. “We’ll tell the garage manafter we leave you at the depot.”
“Will you, boys? I’ll be a thousand times obliged to you if you will!I wouldn’t miss that train for a good deal. Just tell the garage manto come and get my car. I’ll settle all expenses with him when I comeback, which will be in a couple of weeks.
“And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll get in your car and let you take meto Wrightville. It’s very kind of you. I thought I was in for a streakof bad luck when my machine went over with me, but this seems to be aturn for the better.”
Leaving the wrecked car where it was, Jerry and his chums went back totheir machine with Mr. Hobson, giving their names on the way. It was ashort run to Wrightville, but Mr. Hobson, who did not have any too muchtime to begin with, only just made the train as it was.
“Good-bye, boys!” he called, as he swung aboard the express, waving hishand to them. “See you again some time, I hope.”
And it was under rather strange circumstances when Mr. Hobson once moreconfronted our heroes.
“Well, now to tell the garage man, and then for the eats!” exclaimedBob as they rode away from the railroad station. “I’ve got more of anappetite than ever. That little excitement seemed to make me hungry.”
“It doesn’t take much to make _you_ hungry,” commented Jerry. “But wemight as well eat here as to go on to Wallace’s. That would take halfan hour.”
“Yes, let’s eat here,” acquiesced Chunky, and Ned assenting, that planwas agreed upon.
“Mr. Hobson? Oh, yes, I know him,” the garage man said when the storyof the wrecked car had been told. “He often passes through here. Justleave it to me. I’ll go out and get his machine, tow it in and fix itup. I know the place all right. That sure is a bad turn. I guess henever had been on that road before. But I’ll get his car right away.”
“Then we can eat,” said Bob, with a sigh of relief.
While the three boys were making for a restaurant, there was takingplace back in Jerry’s home the family conference, the knowledge ofwhich had, in a measure, rather disturbed the three chums. For thoughthey knew that it was going on, they could only guess at the object,which seemed to be rather important.
And, in a sense, it was.
That morning Mr. Aaron Slade, the head of the largest department storein Cresville, a town not far from Boston, had called on Mr. AndrewBaker, the banker.
“Andrew,” Mr. Slade had said (for he and the banker were old friends),“what are we going to do with our boys?”
“That’s just the question which has been puzzling me,” said Mr. Baker.
“They are the finest fellows in the world,” went on Mr. Slade, “and sois their chum, Jerry Hopkins. But, to tell you the truth, Andrew, I’m abit worried about Ned.”
“And I am about Bob. Not that he’s done anything wrong, but he isgetting too wild. I’m afraid they’ve been allowed too much freedom,what with their auto, their motor boat, and airship. I thought, at thetime, it was good for them to go off by themselves, and learn to dependon their own efforts, as they certainly did many times. But now I’mbeginning to think differently.”
“So am I,” admitted his friend. “Take that little incident last week--Iwas telling you about it, I guess--h
ow they raced with some fellow onthe road, and nearly collided with a hay wagon.”
“Yes, I heard about it. Well, boys will be boys, I suppose, but I’vemade up my mind that mine will have to settle down a little more.”
“The same here. But how can we do it?”
For a moment the two business men remained in thought. Then Mr. Sladesaid:
“I’ll tell you what we’d better do, Andrew. Let’s go and have a talkwith Mrs. Hopkins. She’s one of the most capable, efficient andlevel-headed women I know. That’s one reason why I sold her some stockin my store. Her son Jerry is such a chum of our boys that I’ve nodoubt she feels about as we do, for Jerry is into the same scrapes andfun that our boys get into. Let’s go and have a talk with Mrs. Hopkins.”
“I’m with you!” the banker exclaimed. “I’ll call her on the ’phone andsee if it’s convenient for us to run out there.”
A few moments’ talk over the wire apprised Mrs. Hopkins of what was inthe air, and she invited the two gentlemen to call.
That is the reason Mrs. Hopkins did not go motoring with Jerry. SoJerry took his two chums, who were made aware of the family conferencein that fashion.
“Well, gentlemen,” said Mrs. Hopkins, when the matter had been fullyexplained to her, and Mr. Slade and Mr. Baker had each expressed theidea that their sons were in need of a little taming down, “I feelabout it as you do. I wish Jerry were not quite so lively and fond ofsuch exciting adventures. But now we have arrived at that decision,what’s to be done?”
“The very question I asked!” exclaimed Mr. Slade.
“Send ’em to college!” proposed Mr. Baker, after a moment’s thought. “Agood, strict, up-to-date college is the place for them. They’d have tobuckle down to hard work, but there would be enough of athletic sportto give them an outlet for their energies. Send the boys to college!How does that idea strike you?”
“It might be the very thing,” answered Mrs. Hopkins thoughtfully.“The boys have a pretty good education as it is from the Academy andfrom their private studies, but of late they have been allowed to runa little too freely. I should say college would be the best thing inthe world for them. Some difficult studies would give their too activebrains something more than adventures to feed on, and I have faithenough in the boys to be sure they would strive to do well--to excel intheir studies as they have excelled in quests, races and other thingsin which they have taken part.”
“I am glad you agree with me,” said Mr. Baker. “How about you, Aaron?”and he looked across at Ned’s father.
“I’m of the same opinion,” was the answer.
“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Baker. “Well, now that is settled, which collegeshall it be? There are several good ones in this section of NewEngland, but the question is whether they are just those best fittedfor our boys.”
“How about a military academy?” asked Mr. Slade. “They’d get gooddiscipline there.”
Mrs. Hopkins shook her head.
“I haven’t a word to say against militarism, except that I think wara terrible thing,” she said. “I believe in preparedness, too, but Idon’t fancy a military school for Jerry. I’m afraid there would be alittle too much discipline at first, when the boys have been used to solittle.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Mr. Slade. “I am not very much in favorof it myself.”
Several colleges were mentioned at the family conference, but nothingdefinite was decided on, and it was agreed to meet again in a day orso. Meanwhile the catalogues of several institutions could be sent forto judge which college would be best suited to the boys.
“A very capable woman,” commented Mr. Slade, as he and his friend leftMrs. Hopkins’s house.
“Very. And I am glad we have come to this decision about our boys.”
“So am I. I wonder how the boys will take it.”
“It’s hard to tell. We won’t say anything to them about it for a while.”
“No,” agreed Mr. Slade.
Ned, Bob and Jerry at Boxwood Hall; Or, The Motor Boys as Freshmen Page 3
