The Motor Scout: A Story of Adventure in South America

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER XII

  FREE WHEEL

  Romana gasped when Tim declared his intention.

  "It is madness," he said. "Your father charged me to have care of you.I must forbid it."

  "I don't care what you say. I am going to get my bike. Do you knowthat it cost L60 in London? Besides, I am not going to let thePrefect's fellows have it."

  "But consider," said Romana anxiously. "I don't deny you may steal inand get it; they are keeping very poor watch; but what then? You wouldhave to bring it out----"

  "I'd manage that."

  "And then how get it to our camp? The track is very difficult, formiles too rough for you to ride. There are sure to be sentries at theeastern entrance; and as for the gully by which we came, you know howhard our task was in daylight: we could not possibly carry the machinedown in the darkness."

  "All that's perfectly true, but I am not going to leave it with theserascals, so we've just got to think it out."

  He had to admit that the gully and the western track, by which they hadjust come, were impossible. The only other route was the path which hehad travelled when first brought by his captors to the camp, and when hehad returned home after being ransomed. The entrance, as Romana hadsaid, would undoubtedly be guarded; and judging by the position of theoutposts whom they had passed on the way up, there would be acorresponding picket on the path below.

  The path itself was difficult enough. For more than a quarter of a milefrom the camp it was a steep descent. Then for about two miles itdropped more gradually, becoming from that point onward a sort ofswitchback with a generally downward trend until it reached the levelnot far from Durand's house. Having twice travelled along the path, Timknew it well enough to feel sure that he could ride along it even in thedarkness without much risk. The difficulty was threefold: to secure thebicycle unnoticed; to pass the sentry at the entrance; and to evade thepicket at the foot of the hill. Romana, who knew the weaknesses of hiscountrymen, admitted that the sentry in all probability would be asleep;but the members of the picket would certainly be awake: among two orthree there would be conversation.

  "Well then," said Tim, "if the sentry is asleep I'll chance the rest.But you won't be in it. We came out to scout, and you must get back andtell them what we have learnt: it isn't much."

  "Your father will blame me severely if I return without you," saidRomana.

  "You can tell him you protested. Besides, I'll very likely be backbefore you. If I get away safely I'll make a round to the river, andwhen I get there I can go so fast that I may overtake you somewhere upthe road--provided the petrol lasts out. It must be getting low; I'dforgotten that; and we've no more. After this the machine will beuseless."

  "Then why not leave it, senorito? It will be useless to the enemyalso."

  "Don't go over it all again! I mean to have the bike; that's settled.You get back. I'll allow time for you to reach the horses before I doanything. You had better start at once."

  Romana knew that further expostulation would be useless. He had hadmuch experience of his young master's firmness. Reluctantly he took hisleave, and crept back over the hill-side. Tim listened for hisfootsteps, and hearing nothing he felt much encouraged. If Romana couldmove silently, so could he. But for assurance' sake he took off hisboots and slung them round his neck by their laces.

  He waited a long time. The sky was moonless, a deep indigo blue, sodark that the starlight did not enable him to read the face of hiswatch. It was essential he should not start upon his own hazardousadventure until Romana was out of danger, and he had waited probablytwice as long as was necessary before he ventured to move. There wereno sounds from the enclosure except the occasional stamp of a horse'shoof or the rattle of a chain. Even the sentry on his right hadapparently ceased to trudge his monotonous beat. The other sentry, ifthere was one, at the entrance to his left, had not moved. Once ortwice he thought he heard slight sounds from down the path: the factthat outposts were stationed below rendered it probable that the sentryabove would not consider it necessary to be on the alert. Perhaps,thought Tim with a gush of hope, there was no sentry there at all!

  At last, having heard no alarm from the direction in which Romana hadgone, he decided to start. He stole cautiously along and down thehill-side until he came to one of the tall rocks that stood at theentrance. Here he paused a moment to listen. There was no sound.Creeping round the rock, at two more strides he was within theenclosure. The breeze no longer woke fitful flames from the embers ofthe camp fires.

  It was pitch dark: otherwise he might have seen the form of a sentrydozing on a ruined buttress near the entrance. In the absence of light,the only means of finding the cycle was to steal along by the wall untilhe came to it. Luckily he had to pass no horses: the animals would havebeen more easily disturbed than the men.

  He moved as quickly and quietly as possible, but his heart was in hismouth more than once as he made the round. It was perilous work,picking his way in the darkness among the sleeping men. They wereplaced irregularly, some close to the wall, some at a little distancefrom it, some actually touching it. One man murmured in his sleep asTim passed; another, flinging out an arm with a dreamer's suddenviolence, struck it against Tim's leg, and growled an imprecation. But,no doubt supposing that he had hit a comrade, he suspected nothing, androlled over. At the blow Tim felt an impulse to shout aloud and run;but he kept a tight rein upon his nerves, and went on without furtheralarm.

  At last he reached the bicycle. There was no sleeper within a few yardsof it. He passed his hand over it rapidly to make sure that it wascomplete. Then, bracing himself for the ordeal, he wheeled it betweenseveral of the men towards the centre of the courtyard. At this tensemoment he had reason to be glad of the care which he had always spent inkeeping the machine well oiled. This, and the fact that it was afree-engine model, made it noiseless.

  Looking now eastward, he was just able to discern the two pillars ofrock that stood high above the level of the adjacent wall at theentrance. Guided by them, he pushed the machine straight across thecourtyard, skirting one of the dead fires. He passed between the rocks:he was now on the track: and the heedless sentry slumbered on.

  Tim was breathing hard in his excitement. The first danger was past:what was he now to do? He stood beneath one of the tall rocks,thinking. Should he try to creep past the outpost stationed, as hesuspected, at the foot of this, the steepest part of the track? Orshould he mount and run the gauntlet? The men were probably not asleep:whether awake or not they would hear his machine approaching. It seemedperhaps the safer course to wheel the bicycle down at the side of thetrack, and not mount until he was within a few yards of them, when hemight hope to dash past before they were ready to deal with him.

  He was moving slowly downhill when an accident caused a change of plan.A loose piece of rock, displaced by the front wheel, bumped and rattleddown the track, making what seemed a terribly loud noise in the stillnight air. The slumbering sentry awoke and let out a shout. There werefaint answering shouts from below. It was Hobson's choice for Tim now.He vaulted into the saddle, and the cycle sped down the steep descent.He did not switch on the engine; indeed, he had some trouble in keepingthe machine in hand with the brake. At renewed sounds of alarm ahead heallowed the speed to increase. It was a gamble with fate. If theoutpost, deliberately or unawares, blocked the track at the foot of thehill, nothing could save either Tim or any person or thing he mightstrike. If the space was clear, nothing could arrest his course but ashot, so long as he retained control of the machine. Favoured by thedarkness he might escape, even should the men fire at him.

  Down he flew, steering by guesswork. He heard shouts and the plunging ofhorses ahead; then saw dimly several dark forms. They appeared tostretch across the track. He could not have checked now if he had wishedto. He dashed on, as it were into their midst. On the left he grazed aman about to mount; on the right passed within a f
ew inches of a horse;and while he was still in the throes of nervous anxiety and even terror,the machine had borne him safely through the outpost. He could hardlybelieve in his good fortune. But there was no doubt about it. He hadnow to face only the dangers of the track ahead.

  These were formidable enough. It was a mad ride at the best: a boulderof any size, and there were many, would hurl him to destruction.Fortunately the track here was fairly straight. At one slight bend henarrowly shaved a tree; a little farther on the machine bumped into atransverse depression, probably the dry channel of a rivulet, and hejust averted a side slip. His fortune held good. As he drew fartherfrom the enemy he reduced his speed, and when the downward inclinebecame less steep, and almost insensibly merged in a rise, he jumpedoff, lighted his lamp, and for the first time started the engine.

  The men of the outpost, meanwhile, were scarcely aware of what hadhappened. The sentry's shout had alarmed them, but they knew not whatto be prepared for. There was no firing, so that the Mollendists couldnot be attempting a surprise. While they were mounting, they werevaguely conscious that something had approached and passed them,swiftly, with scarcely a rustle. Only when the ghostly object wasalready two or three hundred yards down the track did it flash into themind of one of them that this must be the machine which he had seenhauled out from under a heap of brushwood in the camp. None of hiscomrades could ride: it must have been purloined by an audaciousMollendist. Then the pursuit began. But the horsemen had to pick theirway carefully in the darkness. Even before Tim gained the switchbackportion of the track he had hopelessly distanced them. And having nowhis lamp to guide him, he was able to avoid obstacles, and dashed up anddown the slopes at a great speed.

  Presently he came to the forking of the paths, and turned to the right,intending to ride on to the river, and make his way up the channel untilhe was several miles west of the camp. He had ridden only a few yardsalong this path, however, when it suddenly struck him that the tracks ofhis wheels would be clearly visible in daylight, and would guide theenemy to the situation of his friends. Instantly he slowed down,wheeled round and, returning to the fork, ran some little distance alongthe path in the direction of San Rosario. Then, dismounting, he walkedthe cycle a little farther; this would have the effect of making thewheel tracks more shallow. On reaching a particularly hard stretch ofthe path, he lifted the machine on to the rocky ground at the side, andpartly wheeling, partly carrying, made his way slowly back towards thecross path leading to the river.

  Here he listened for sounds of pursuit. There were none. The horsemenhad given it up. He debated whether to try to obliterate the few traceshe had made before the necessity of hiding his trail occurred to him.But he reflected that in the deceptive light of the lamp he might leavestill more compromising signs, whereas the obvious retracing of hiscourse might suffice to lead the enemy off the scent. Accordingly helet the wheel marks remain, and, carrying or pushing the bicycle overmany yards of the sloping ground above the track, he again mounted, andhastened on to the river bank. There he turned to the left in thedirection of San Rosario, but after riding a short distance he stopped,wheeled the machine down the sloping bank between the bushes, and thenstarted upstream through shallow water. When he had thus covered abouta mile, he pulled on his boots, remounted, and set off along the sandyforeshore.

  Remembering suddenly that the river was in full view from the ridge onhis right hand, which led directly to the captured camp, he put out hislight. He wished he had done so as soon as he turned northward, andfelt very uneasy lest the enemy should have seen the lamp from above,and hurried down the gully to intercept him. The sandy bed beingwhitish, he was able to ride rapidly without a light. A streamtrickling into the river from the right indicated the gully. He dashedpast, half expecting to be assailed with shots; but there was no sign ofan enemy, and he felt that, except for some unforeseen contingency, hisdangers were over.

  He kept to the river bed for several miles after leaving the vicinity ofthe camp. Then, however, he had to mount the bank and take the trackleading to Mollendo's hut. By this time he was very tired, and thenecessity of dismounting frequently, to push the machine up the steeperand more rugged stretches of the path, taxed his strength severely. Tomake matters worse, the petrol gave out, and riding, even in levelplaces, was no longer possible. But he pressed on doggedly at a snail'space. At last, when the sky behind him was beginning to lighten withthe dawn, he saw three figures emerging from the gloom on the trackahead. In a few minutes Romana and two other men met him, and relievedhim of his burdensome machine. Soon after, exhausted but very happy, hedragged himself into the hut, greeted his father and Senor Mollendo witha smile, and, dropping on to an extended rug, fell instantly asleep.