CHAPTER I
QUEER ACTIONS
“What’s the matter, Bob, can’t you crank an auto yet?”
“I sure can!” exclaimed a stout lad, who was bending over in front of abig car, laboriously grinding away at the starting handle.
“Then do it,” advised a tall youth at the wheel. “Turn it over good andhard.”
“Yes, go ahead,” put in a good-natured looking chap in one of the rearseats. “We don’t want to stay here all day, even if it is a nice place.”
“All--right--here--she--goes!” panted stout Bob Baker, as he againturned the crank.
There was only the noise of the flywheel spinning around; a sort ofcough and wheeze, but no whirr and throb that told of an explosion ofgas in the cylinders.
“Oh, if you can’t get her started let me try!” exclaimed Ned Slade, thelad in the tonneau. “I thought you’d had practice enough, Bob.”
“That’s right,” remarked Jerry Hopkins, the lad at the wheel. “Keep atit, Bob, it’ll take off some of that extra flesh.”
“Oh, you----!” began the fat lad, and then he stopped to gaze in someastonishment at his chum, Ned, who had started to leave the rear seat,with the evident intention of trying his hand at the crank. For onNed’s face there was a curious look as he gazed over Jerry’s shoulderat the switch, just under the overhang on the dashboard of the car.Then a broad grin illuminated Ned’s features, to be succeeded by ahearty laugh.
“Huh!” ejaculated Bob. “I don’t see anything to go into spasms over. Ifyou think it’s so funny come out here and try it yourself. I never sawsuch a cranky car. It went all right a while ago, and now----”
“It’s all because you don’t know how to crank it--that’s the reasonit’s cranky,” began Jerry. “I’ll show you----”
“No--don’t--Oh, ho! Sit still--Oh, me! Oh my! Wait until I get mybreath--Oh dear!” and Ned with one hand on the steersman’s shoulderheld his own side with the other to help repress his mirth.
“Well of all the----” began Bob, half in anger.
“No wonder he couldn’t crank it!” cried Ned. “You haven’t got theswitch on, Jerry. There’s no current--Oh dear! and to think that Bobwas breaking his back and never getting a spark----”
“Was that the trouble?” cried Jerry.
“It sure was,” replied Ned, and, stepping on the footboard he reachedto the dash, and snapped on the switch which connected the batterieswith the spark plug in the cylinder heads. “Now try it, Bob!” he called.
“Not much!” exclaimed the fat lad, with great determination. “I’mdone--finished! If you fellows don’t know enough to throw on the switchafter all these years of running a car, and then expect to sit thereand grin your heads off while I break my back cranking, you’re mightymuch mistaken--that’s all I’ve got to say. You may think it’s a joke,but I don’t! I’m through with you,” and turning on his heel, afterflashing a look at his two chums, Bob Baker started off down the roadafoot.
“Here, where are you going?” called Jerry, after him.
“Home!” was the short answer, “and I’m not going out with you fellowsagain in a hurry!”
Ned and Jerry looked at one another. It was the first time in a longwhile that there had been any serious difference among the three chums.
“Oh, come on back!” urged Ned, for he saw that Bob was very much inearnest. “Come on back.”
“Not on your life!” snapped Bob. “I’m through.”
“We didn’t mean anything,” went on Ned, starting after his friend.“But it was so funny to see----”
“Ha! Ha! Joke!” sneered Bob. “If it’s so funny write it out and send itto the humorous column. You won’t get another chance to laugh at me,though.”
“He’s mad, all right,” murmured Ned.
“Looks so,” agreed Jerry. “Oh, I say Bob!” the tall lad went on, “comeon back. Honest, I didn’t know the switch was off. Come on back. It’sa good ways to Cresville, and we’ve only just started the run. Come onback, and you can steer, and I’ll crank up. And if we get a punctureNed and I’ll put on a new tire, and you won’t even have to get out ofthe car. I mean it!”
The figure, stalking down the road in anger, was seen to hesitate themerest trifle. But Bob did not turn around.
“That almost fetched him,” said Jerry. “Say something, Ned.”
“We’ll stop at the first place we come to, and get a bite to eat, evenif it isn’t noon,” shouted the lad who had discovered the disconnectedswitch. “That ought to do the business,” he added, in lower tones.
It seemed to be, for Bob halted, appeared to be considering the matterat length, and then turned around.
“Does all that go?” he demanded.
“Sure,” chorused Ned and Jerry.
“And about me not having to help sweat putting on a tire?”
“That’s right,” Jerry assured him. Bob came slowly back.
“All the same,” he spoke as he climbed into the tonneau, “it was no funcranking a car with the switch off.”
“We agree with you,” said Jerry, winking at Ned with the eye concealedfrom his offended chum. “But it wasn’t intentional,” he added,soothingly, as he went to the crank. “Go ahead, Bob, you can steer ifyou want to.”
“I don’t know as I want to. If we get a puncture you might blame it onme.”
“All right, then I’ll take the wheel,” went on Jerry, as the motorthrobbed and hummed when he had turned the crank, for the car, though agood one, was not a self-starter.
“But everything else goes,” proceeded Bob, as the machine glidedsmoothly down the road. “And we stop at the first place where we canget sandwiches and ginger ale. I’m hungry.”
“You always----” began Ned, but Jerry stopped him with a nudge in theribs.
“Keep your foot on the soft pedal,” he advised, in a whisper, for thetwo lads were on the front seat, with Bob in the rear. “No use gettinghim ruffled again.”
The three chums had taken advantage of a fine spring day to take a ridein their auto about the country near Cresville, a town not far fromBoston. They had not gone far before they came to a delightful spot,where a roadside spring offered a chance to drink, and they took it. Instopping the car, Jerry had thrown out the switch, and when, with theirthirst quenched, they wanted to start off again, the incident I havejust narrated took place.
But now everything seemed to have been smoothed out, though Bob thoughtto himself that he had gotten a little the best of the bargain. Hefelt sure his chums had played no trick on him, in having him crank upwithout the switch being on, for it frequently had happened before thatone of them forgot to make the electrical connection.
“But I get out of that tire work,” thought Bob, as the car swung along;“and they won’t guy me when I want something to eat. I guess we’reeven.”
“Going to any place in particular?” asked Ned of Jerry, as the tall ladswung the machine around a curve.
“No, I just thought we’d run out for ten miles or so, and get back intime for lunch. Or we can stop at a roadhouse, and spend the whole daytouring if you like. I was going----”
“Look out!” suddenly yelled Bob, for Jerry had turned to speak to Ned,and his eyes were not on the road ahead. “Look out or you’ll go overthat dog!”
There was a scurrying in the dust as a yellow cur rushed from aroadside house, directly at the auto. Bob spoke only just in time, forJerry, with a quick turn of the wheel, sent the car to one side with adangerous swerve, but avoiding the dog.
The beast, with sharp barks, seemed to enjoy the confusion he hadcaused. Jerry, with muttered comments on all such dogs in general, andthis one in particular, was swinging back into the road again, whenthere came a sharp hiss of air, and the auto settled slightly on oneside.
“Oh, rats!” cried Ned. “A puncture!”
“It was that dog’s fault!” exclaimed Jerry, wrathfully. “I hit thatboard with a nail in it when I turned out for him. We ought to make theman who owns him pay
us for a brand new tire.”
“That’s right,” agreed Ned, while Jerry guided the disabled car beneatha big tree, that they might take advantage of the shade in substitutinga new inner tube for the punctured one. The dog, evidently thinkingthat the lads were stopping to take revenge on him, fled into thehouse, his tail between his legs.
“Here’s where I watch you fellows work!” exclaimed Bob, with a chuckle.
“All right! What we said goes!” declared Jerry. “Come on, Ned. Getbusy.”
The car was soon jacked up, and the shoe taken off by Jerry, while Nedgot out a new inner tube and proceeded to partially inflate it ready toslip it in in place of the damaged one.
“Say, this shoe sticks!” said Jerry, who was working hard. “Here, Ned,give me a hand.”
“Can’t for a minute. I’ve got to fill this tube.”
“Aw, say, I’ll help!” exclaimed Bob, who, all the while, in spite ofthe promise of immunity made to him, had fidgeted while sitting therecomfortably while his chums worked. “I can’t be as mean as all that.”
“I thought not,” remarked Jerry, and then, with the help of his fatchum, he soon had the shoe off. The three made short work of changingthe tire; and a little later they were on their way once more.
“There’s an eating place!” exclaimed Bob eagerly, as they swung uptoward a roadside stand. “We got some dandy sandwiches there once.”
“And you haven’t forgotten it,” chuckled Ned. “All right, I’ll standtreat. Slow up, Jerry.”
A little later the three were drinking cool ginger ale and munching thebread and meat.
“I notice,” said Bob, as he casually took a bite, “that you fellows areeating with about as good an appetite as I have, in spite of the funyou made.”
“Oh, I admit I was hungry,” said Ned, as he held out his glass.
“Same here,” added Jerry. “It was working on that tire, I guess.”
It was nearly noon when they neared Cresville again, after swingingabout in a ten-mile circle. They had greatly enjoyed the little trip,and were discussing whether or not they would take advantage of thefollowing Saturday for a motor boat ride, or for a spin in theirairship, since the chums possessed both those means of locomotion.
“I vote for the airship,” said Bob. “We don’t have to look out forpunctures, and there’s no danger of getting stuck as in a motor boat.”
“Well, I’d like the boat,” said Ned. “But if you want the airship I’mwilling. Noddy Nixon is back in town, though, I hear, and if we startflying he’s almost sure to do the same thing, and generally he managesto camp on our trail, somehow. But maybe we can shake him.”
“I guess so,” put in Jerry Hopkins. “We’ll--Hello!” he cried, suddenlyinterrupting himself, as the car swung around a curve, and approacheda railroad crossing. “What’s going on at the depot?” he asked.
“There’s a crowd all right,” asserted Bob.
“An accident, I guess!” exclaimed Ned. “The through train must havejust passed along, and hit someone! Put on speed, Jerry!”
The tall lad did so, and the car shot ahead.
“No, there doesn’t seem to be anybody hurt,” spoke Bob. “I can’t seeany ambulance. The crowd seems to be watching two men who--by Jinks!What _are_ they doing?” he finished.
“I see ’em,” added Ned. “They seem to be digging between the rails.”
“And yet they don’t look like section hands,” spoke Jerry. “They seemmore like Westerners. Look at their big hats!”
“And red shirts,” remarked Bob. “Yet they’re grubbing between the tiesfor all they’re worth. That’s queer.”
“And see how excited the crowd is,” added Ned.
“Yes, and look at Mr. Hitter, the freight agent!” cried Jerry. “He’shopping up and down like a hen on a hot griddle. We must see what’sgoing on!”
“Surest think you know!” agreed Bob. “Maybe it’s a lawsuit against therailroad, and they’re tearing up the tracks.”
With the boys eagerly looking ahead, the auto approached nearerthe throng that surrounded two men whose strange actions seemed tofascinate those in the throng. Then Jerry uttered a queer cry.
“Look!” he fairly shouted. “One of those men is Jim Nestor, who is incharge of our mine in Arizona! What can he be doing East? Fellows,there’s something queer going on here!”
The Motor Boys on the Border; Or, Sixty Nuggets of Gold Page 2
