CHAPTER II
ON THE BRINK
"What--what's your plan, Blake?" yelled Joe intohis chum's ear, as he sat behind him on the jolting second saddleof the swaying motor cycle.
"What do you mean?" demanded Blake, half turning his head.
"I mean how are you going to stop that runaway, or rescue thosefellows?"
"I haven't thought, yet, but if we can get ahead of the horse wemay be able to stop him before he gets to the road-barrier or tothe dangerous turn."
"That's right!" panted Joe, the words being fairly jolted out ofhim. "Head him off--I see!"
"Hold fast!" exclaimed Blake, as the conductor does when a trolleycar goes around a curve. "Hold fast!"
There was need of the advice, for a little turn in the road wasjust ahead of them and Blake intended to take it at almost topspeed.
Bumping, swaying, jolting, spitting fire and smoke, with a rattle,clatter and bang, on rushed the motor cycle on its errand ofrescue.
"Hark!" cried Joe, close to Blake's ear, "Listen!"
"Can't, with all this racket!" yelled back Blake, for he hadopened the throttle to gain a little increase of power. "What'sthe matter?"
"I thought I heard the horse."
"Hearing him won't do any good," observed Blake grimly. "We've gotto see him and get ahead!"
And he turned on a little more gasoline.
While Blake and Joe are thus speeding to the rescue of the men inthe runaway, we will take a few moments to tell our new readerssomething about the boys who are to figure prominently in thisstory.
Joe Duncan and Blake Stewart were called the "Moving PictureBoys," for an obvious reason. They took moving pictures. Withtheir curious box-like cameras, equipped with the thousand feet ofsensitive celluloid film, and the operating handle, they had risenfrom the ranks of mere helpers to be expert operators. And nowthey were qualified to take moving pictures of anything from acrowd, shuffling along the street, to a more complicated scene, suchas a flood, earthquake or volcanic eruption. And, incidentally, Imight mention that they had been in all three of these lastsituations.
The first volume of this series is called "The Moving PictureBoys," and in that I introduced to you Blake and Joe.
They worked on adjoining farms, and one day they saw a company ofmoving picture actors and actresses come to a stream, near wherethey were, to take a "movie drama."
Naturally Blake and Joe were interested at once, and making theacquaintance of Mr. Calvert Hadley, who was in charge of thetaking of the play, or "filming it," as the technical term has it,the two boys were given an opportunity to get into the business.
They went to New York, and began the study of how moving picturesare taken, developed from the films, the positives printed andthen, through the projecting machine, thrown on the screen morethan life size.
The process is an intricate one, and rather complicated, involvingmuch explanation. As I have already gone into it in detail in myfirst book of this series, I will not repeat it here. Those of youwho wish to know more about the "movies" than you can gain bylooking at the interesting pictures in some theater, arerespectfully referred to the initial volume.
Joe and Blake were much interested in the Film Theatrical Company.My former readers will well remember some members of thatorganization--C.C. Piper, or "Gloomy," as he was called when notreferred to as just "C.C."; Birdie Lee, a pretty, vivacious girl;Mabel Pierce, a new member of the company; Henry Robertson, whoplayed juvenile "leads"; Miss Shay, and others in whom you aremore or less interested.
After various adventures in New York City, taking films of allsorts of perilous scenes, Joe and Blake went out West, theiradventures there being told in the volume of that name. They hadtheir fill of cowboys and Indians, and, incidentally, were in nolittle danger.
Afterward they went to the Pacific Coast, thence to the jungle,where many stirring wild animal scenes were obtained, andafterward they had many adventures in Earthquake Land. There theywere in great danger from tremors of the earth, and fromvolcanoes, but good luck, no less than good management, broughtthem home with whole skins, and with their cases filled with rarefilms.
Having finished in the land of uncertainty, the work assigned tothem by Mr. Hadley and his associates, Joe and Blake had gone fortheir vacation to the farm of Mr. Hiram Baker, near Central Falls.But their intention of enjoying a quiet stay was rudelyinterrupted.
For not long after they had arrived, and were resting quietlyunder a cherry tree in the shade, Mr. Ringold, with whom they werealso associated in moving picture work, called them up on the longdistance telephone to offer them a most curious assignment.
This was to go to the flooded Mississippi Valley, and get movingpictures of the "Father of Waters" on one of "his" annualrampages.
Of course Blake and Joe went, and their adventures in the floodfill the volume immediately preceding this one.
And now they had returned, anticipating a second session of theirvacation. They had brought a motor cycle with which to go aboutthe pretty country surrounding Central Falls.
"For," reasoned Blake, "we haven't much time left this summer, andif we want to enjoy ourselves we'll have to hustle. A motor cycleis the most hustling thing I know of this side of an automobile,and we can't afford that yet."
"I'm with you for a motor cycle," Joe had said. So one waspurchased, jointly.
It was on returning from a pleasant ride that our heroes had seenthe runaway with which we are immediately concerned. They were nowspeeding after the maddened horse dragging the frail carriage,hoping to get ahead of and stop the animal before it eithercrashed into the frail barrier, and leaped into the ravine, orupset the vehicle in trying to make the turn into the temporaryroad.
"There he is!" suddenly cried Blake. The motor cycle, bearing thetwo chums, had made the curve in the road successfully and was nowstraightened up on a long, level stretch. And yet not so long,either, for not more than a quarter of a mile ahead was anotherturn, and then came the bridge.
"I see him!" answered Joe. "Can you make it?"
"I'm going to!" declared Blake, closing his lips firmly.
Every little bump and stone in the road seemed magnified becauseof the speed at which they were moving. But Blake held the longhandles firmly, and, once the curve was passed, he turned therubber grip that let a little more gasoline flow into thecarbureter to be vaporized and sprayed into the cylinders, wherethe electric spark exploded it with a bang.
"We--are--going--some!" panted Joe.
"Got--to!" assented Blake, grimly.
On swayed the thundering, rattling motor cycle. The carriage tophad either been let down, or some of the supports had broken, andit had fallen, and the boys could now plainly see the two men onthe seat. They had not jumped, but they had evidently given uptrying to make the horse stop by pulling on the one rein, for theanimal was speeding straight down the center of the road.
"We aren't catching up to him very fast!" howled Joe into Blake'sear, and he had to howl louder than usual, for they were thenpassing along a portion of the road densely shaded by trees. Infact the branches of the trees met overhead in a thick arch, andit was like going through a leafy tunnel.
This top bower of twigs and branches threw back the noise of theexplosions of the motor cycle, and made an echo, above which itwas almost impossible to make one's voice heard.
"Look out!" suddenly cried Blake. "Hold fast!"
At first Joe imagined that his chum was going to make anothercurve in the road, but none was at hand. Then, as Blake watchedhis chum's right hand, he saw him slowly turn the movable rubberhandle that controls the gasoline supply. Blake was turning onmore power, though now the machine was running at a higher ratethan Joe or Blake had ever traveled before.
With a jump like that of a dog released from the leash, the motorcycle seemed to spring forward. Indeed Joe must needs hold on, andas he was not so favorably seated as was his chum, it became amatter of no little trouble to maintain a grip with his legs andhands.
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bsp; "We--sure--are--going--some!" muttered Joe. But he did not openhis mouth any more. It was too dangerous at the speed they hadattained. A jolt over a stone, or a bit of wood, might send histeeth through his tongue if he parted his jaws. So he kept quiet.
Ahead of them the carriage swayed and swerved. The horse was aspeedy one, but no creature of bone, blood, muscles and sinews candistance a fire-spitting and smoke-eating machine like a motorcycle. The distance was gradually being cut down.
But now, just ahead of them, was the curve, immediately beyondwhich was the broken bridge, and also the temporary one, shuntingoff at a sharp angle from the main highway.
"Look out! Hold on!" once more cried Blake, speaking in quicktones.
For a moment Joe wondered at the added caution, and then he sensedwhat Blake was about to do.
To one side of them stretched a level field. The road made aslight detour about it, just before meeting the ravine, and bycrossing this field it was possible for the boys to reach thebridge ahead of the swaying carriage. But at the speed they werenow running it was dangerous, and risky in the extreme, to runacross the uneven meadow. Blake, however, evidently was going tochance it.
"Hold fast!" he cried once more, and Joe had no more than time totake a firmer grip on the bar in front of him, and to cling withhis legs to the foot supports and saddle, than they were off theroad, and into the green field. The fence had been taken down toallow for the storage of bridge-building material in the meadow.
"Now we'll get him!" cried Blake, but he spoke too soon. For themotor cycle had not gone ten feet into the uneven field, jolting,swaying and all but throwing off the moving picture boys, than thesound of the explosions suddenly ceased, and the machine began toslacken speed.
With a quickness that was added to by the rough nature of theground, the motor cycle slowed up and stopped.
"What's the matter?" cried Joe, putting down his feet to supportthe machine.
"Something's busted--gasoline pipe, I guess!" cried Blake. "Comeon! We've got to run for it!"
The accident had occurred only a short distance from the road.Together the two chums, leaping clear of the motor cycle, made forit on the run.
But they were too late. They had a glimpse of the runaway horsedashing straight at the fence barrier.
The next moment there was a splintering crash, and he was throughit.
"Oh!" cried Blake.
The thunder of the horse's hoofs on what was left of the woodenapproach to the broken bridge drowned his words.
Then the animal, with a leap, disappeared over the jagged edges ofthe planks. The boys expected to see the carriage and the twooccupants follow, but to their intense surprise, the vehicleswayed to one side, caught somehow on one of the king beams of thebridge and hung there.
"Come on!" cried Blake, increasing his speed; "we've got a chanceof saving them yet!"
The Moving Picture Boys at Panama; Or, Stirring Adventures Along the Great Canal Page 2
