Bert Wilson at the Wheel

by William Osborn Stoddard

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE RACE

  "Well," exclaimed Bert, drawing a long breath as he rose from hiscramped position beside the "Red Scout," "this machine is in as goodcondition as I know how to put it, and if nothing happens I guess we canshow you fellows some speed this afternoon."

  It was the morning of the long wished-for race and Bert was addressingan excited group of boys, who were holding wrenches, oil cans, and suchother appliances as he might need in putting the finishing touches onthe pampered machine. The whole camp was in a ferment of excitement andexpectancy, and many were the heartfelt wishes for Bert's success.

  To these boys it seemed the most important thing on earth that theirmachine should win, and it is safe to say that if Bert had wanted toremove a piece of black grease from the car and had not a cloth handy,any one of them would have sacrificed his best handkerchief without amoment's hesitation, and been glad to do it.

  Fortunately, such a contingency did not arise, however, and finally thelast nut had been tightened and the last fine adjustment made, andeverything was ready for the start.

  The race was scheduled to start at two o'clock, but as the boys had towalk to the track, and this necessitated a long detour around the lake,they started almost immediately after breakfast, so as to get there inplenty of time.

  The boys in the two rival camps were not the only persons interested inthe race by any means. News of it had leaked out over the surroundingcountryside during the week between the completion of arrangements andthe actual race, and now there promised to be a goodly attendance offarmers and their families.

  Considerable interest was taken in the camp by the kindly country folk,and now the boys were surprised at the number of carriages and farmwagons, full of jolly youngsters, that they met on their march.

  Every one they met shouted cheery greetings to them, which they returnedwith interest. It made them very happy to see the interest taken in themby the farmers, and the very evident good will expressed by them. Theydidn't take the trouble to figure out the reason for this, but itwas not very hard to find. The fact is, the boys were so manly andwell-behaved that they won their way into all hearts.

  Many a time they had seen the boys stop their machine rather thanfrighten a skittish horse, and more than one weary farmer had beengiven a lift on his way home from some distant field.

  So, as has been said, the boys were greeted with expressions of goodwill on every side as they marched along, and it made them realize,perhaps more than anything else could, that it paid to live a manly,upright life.

  Meanwhile, back in camp Mr. Hollis, Bert, and Dick, were having a finaldiscussion before leaving for the rival camp in the "Red Scout." It hadbeen decided that Dick was to ride with Bert in the race, and give himany help that he might need.

  The other boys had been bitterly disappointed, especially Tom, who hadcounted right along on going.

  "It only seems fair that I should go," he had contended. "Bert and Ihave always been special pals, and I wanted to share any risk he isgoing to take."

  But Mr. Hollis was firm as a rock, as he well knew how to be when hethought circumstances required it of him.

  "I'm a little bit uneasy about the race, anyway," he explained, "and aslong as somebody has to take chances I want it to be some boy who is oldenough to be responsible for his own actions. I know nobody could fillthe place better than you, my boy, but I am sure that when you thinkover what I have said you will agree with me in my decision," and Tomhad to admit to himself that, as usual, Mr. Hollis was right.

  But now the time had come to leave for the rival camp, and Mr. Hollisand Tom climbed into the tonneau, while Bert and Dick occupied the twofront seats.

  Soon they had started, and as they went along Bert gave Dick his lastinstruction. "Remember," said he, "that when we take the turns you mustlean as far toward the inside of the track as you can. This may not seemto help much in keeping those inside wheels on the ground, but everylittle thing like that does help, and I think that we will have to doeverything we know how to beat that 'Gray Ghost' of theirs. That car is noslouch, as the saying goes, and Ralph Quinby knows his business."

  "All right, Bert," replied Dick, "I'll try to remember all the thingsyou have told me. I really believe," he continued, laughing, "that Ihave forgotten more about automobiles in the last week than I ever knewbefore. I never had any idea that there was so much to know about a car,and you certainly have got it down to perfection."

  Bert was pleased at this evidently sincere tribute from Dick, and couldnot prevent a slight flush of pleasure from mounting to his face.

  "Well, Dick," he remarked after a moment, "all I've got to say is thatif such a trio as you and I and the old 'Red Scout' can't win that race,there must be something the matter with the universe, that's all."

  The rival camp all felt as confident as did Mr. Hollis' troop, however,and to the impartial observer it would certainly have seemed as thoughthere was little to choose between the autos and their crews.

  By this time they had come in sight of the old race track, and wereastonished, and, it must be confessed, somewhat confused at the sightthat met their eyes. There was an old rickety grand stand along one sideof the course, and this was literally packed with a bright-colored massof humanity. Even scattered around the infield there were quite a fewfarm wagons, with their complement of folks out for a holiday.

  "Say," said Dick to Bert in a low tone, "I didn't count on having anaudience like this. They'll guy the life out of us if we lose."

  "Well," said Bert, who by this time had recovered from his firstastonishment, "that's all the more reason why we should win. We simplycan't let ourselves be beaten now, that's all there is about it."

  But there was no time for further speculation, as Mr. Hollis was seenapproaching them, and it was evident the race must soon begin.

  Bert ran the "Red Scout" around to a small shed in back of the grandstand,and he and Dick made their final preparations. These consisted in takingoff the hood, or bonnet, altogether, and removing the exhaust pipes fromthe motor. As Bert had already explained to Dick, this was done toeliminate any back pressure from the exhaust gases. Under ordinaryconditions, this makes such a small difference in the power of a carthat it can hardly be said to count, but in a race every ounce of poweris required. This is done on every racing car, and that is why theexplosions make such loud, sharp reports when the car is in action.

  It need hardly be said that every boy in Mr. Hollis's troop, except poorFred, was present, and many were the anxious looks cast at Bert and Dickto see, if possible, how they felt about the outcome of the race. Bothhad been trained to have control of their feelings, however, and sooutwardly they appeared to be very calm.

  This was far from being the real state of their feelings, and both feltas though their hearts had suddenly become too large and were trying toget out between their ribs. They realized that it was not only their ownreputation that would suffer if they were defeated, but the whole campwas involved. What would Mr. Hollis think of them if the other boys werevictorious? What would the boys who had such blind confidence in themand the "Red Scout" do or say if the "Gray Ghost" won?

  Such thoughts were demoralizing, however, and neither Bert nor Dickentertained them any longer than they could help. Into both their facescame that stern, resolved look that all the boys had seen at times andcome to love, and in the minds of Tom and the others all doubts as tothe final result vanished.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Thompson's troop had been giving the "Gray Ghost" itsfinal touches, and now, at the sound of a mellow whistle, both Bert andRalph cranked their motors.

  None of the boys had ever heard the unmuffled exhaust of a racing carbefore, and at the savage roar that now issued from both cars all theboys fell back several steps with scared faces. As soon as they realizedthat the gasoline tank had not exploded, nor any other equally awfulthing occurred, they came forward and tried to ask questions, but in theconfined shed they could hardly hear the sound of their own voices
.

  Slowly the fire-spitting monsters were backed out of the shed, and theirrespective drivers swung them around and on to the track. They weregreeted by a wave of cheering both from the boys and from the assembledfarmers, and more than one burly countryman who had come to the "kids'racket" under protest was seen to sit up straight and open his eyeswide.

  No doubt many of them had expected to see a rather tame affair, andin fact few of them had ever seen an automobile race, or knew thetremendous speed of which a good car was capable, or realized the coolhead and steady nerves required to control the condensed power of fortyhorses traveling at a speed of close to a mile a minute.

  However, they were soon to experience a few of the thrills attendant onsuch an occasion. The two leaders had been holding a consultation, andnow they approached the vibrating, eager cars.

  Mr. Hollis was forced to shout to make himself heard above the din ofthe exhausts. "It is understood," he said, "that this race is to be runfrom a standing start, and is to be for a distance of ten miles, or tenlaps around the track. The cars must line up on the tape that we havestretched in front of the grandstand, and at the report of my pistolthey are to start, each driver getting away as best he can. We havedrawn lots for the choice of position, and the 'Gray Ghost' won, and isto have the inside position. Mr. Thompson and I will act as judges. Isthat perfectly clear?" to Bert and Ralph.

  "Yes, sir," they both responded, and proceeded to manoeuvre their carsinto the appointed positions.

  Mr. Hollis and Mr. Thompson took their places in the grandstand, part ofwhich the boys had been directed to reserve for them.

  By this time the cars were in position, each one with its front wheelsresting on the strip of white tape. The "Gray Ghost" had a decidedadvantage to start with, as it is evident that in any race the car thathas the inside position, that is, the part of the track nearest to thecenter of the field, has a slightly lesser distance to travel than thecar on the outside, and in a close race every few feet count.

  But now there was a breathless hush over the grandstand, and all eyeswere on Mr. Hollis's hand, holding the pistol aloft. Bert and Ralph werebent over their levers, every muscle tense, and nerves stretched to thebreaking point.

  Crack! went the pistol. With a mighty roar, and the blue flames spittingfrom the exhaust ports, the two great machines bounded forward, andalmost with one movement Bert changed the gears from first to second,from second to high. At every change the willing car leaped ahead withever-increasing momentum, and Bert felt a wild thrill run through hisbody as he realized the vast force beneath him, subject only to hiscontrol.

  The "Gray Ghost" had made almost as good a start, however, and now,although the "Red Scout" had a slight lead, the inside position began totell, and the "Gray Ghost" gained a trifle.

  Dick, who had been looking back over his shoulder, now turned to Bertand yelled excitedly in his ear, "Sock it to her, Bert! Give her thegas! They're gaining on us!"

  They had now covered the first lap, and the speedometer hand on the "RedScout's" dashboard registered a speed of fifty miles an hour. Bert knewhe could do better than that, but remembered Mr. Hollis's instructionsnot to take any unnecessary chances. The machine was working beautifully,and a wave of pride surged over him as he thought that this was largelydue to the care and work he had bestowed upon it.

  But now the "Gray Ghost" was ranging alongside--ahead--

  "Give her a pump full of oil, Dick," yelled Bert to his friend, andopened the throttle a trifle wider.

  The machine answered like a thing of life. The wind whistled in theirears, the track seemed a mere gray blur racing away behind them, andthe mighty speed song of the ravening motor was like music in theirears.

  Faster and faster they flew, the two cars keeping pace side by side, andthe speedometer hand creeping up--up.

  Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-six! it registered, and the flying carsseemed barely to touch the ground. On the straight stretch in front ofthe grandstand they gathered such speed that at the turns the rearwheels skidded, throwing up showers of dirt, and the drivers were forcedto slow down a little or the machines would surely have collided.

  Up to that time neither car had a decided advantage, but now they hadcovered the eighth lap, and both crews realized that the time hadarrived to call on the racing engines for their final and greatesteffort.

  The crowds in the stands were yelling like maniacs, as each car in turnpushed its nose ahead of the other. But Bert and Dick heard nothingbut the terrific roar of the racing cars. Their pulses beat liketrip-hammers; their eyes were starting from their heads. They feltrather than saw that the "Gray Ghost" was gaining--gaining only alittle, inch by inch, but gaining. Now it had come abreast; now it wasslowly but surely forging ahead. It looked as though the "Red Scout" had"shot its bolt," and its partisans in the grandstand groaned in anagony of apprehension that was fast becoming despair, while their rivalsdanced up and down and shrieked encouragement to their gray champion.

  Now they were on the last lap, and suddenly Bert leaned forward andadvanced his spark to the limit. It was do or die. His heart exulted ashe felt the splendid car leap forward. He took a firmer grip on thewheel and threw the throttle wide open. His mysterious "sixth sense" hadtold him that he had something in reserve, and now the "Red Scout"justified his judgment. It leaped, it flew. It collared the "Ghost"just as they turned into the stretch, and tore down the course, theexplosions of its motor blending together in one deafening volley ofdefiance as it drew away from its rival. Across the line it flew like arocket, the pistol cracked, and--_the race was won_!

  Across the line it flew like a rocket.--(_See page 217_)]

  Both cars made another circuit of the track before they were able tostop, and then drew up in front of the grandstand.

  Immediately the crowd surged down, and in a moment the two contestantswere surrounded by a frenzied mob of shouting and hat-throwing boys, andalmost equally excited, if less demonstrative, country people.

  Mr. Hollis pressed forward and grasped the hands of Bert and Dick, onein each of his. "You did nobly, boys," he exclaimed, but there was acatch in his voice, and his face looked gray and drawn, "you did greatwork, but I would not consent to your racing again for all the money inthe world. It is altogether too dangerous."

  But by this time the defeated boys belonging to Mr. Thompson's troop hadrecovered a little from their chagrin, and now elbowed their way throughthe crowd, headed by their leader and Ralph Quinby.

  Like the clean-cut and manly fellow that he was, Ralph walked up andshook hands with Bert and Dick in turn.

  "Well," he said, "you fellows certainly put up a great race, and we havenothing more to say. It was simply a case of the best car winning,that's all."

  Bert appreciated his manly spirit, and replied, "It was simply a matterof the 'Red Scout' having a little more speed. If we exchanged cars, youwould win and we would lose. You gave us a hard tussle up to the lastsecond."

  All the other boys showed the same feeling as had Ralph, and bothparties separated with mutual expressions of esteem and good will.

  All the members of Mr. Hollis's troop that could do so crowded into the"Red Scout," and various good-natured farmers volunteered to make roomin their capacious wagons and take the rest home. Room was even foundfor Don, who had been an excited spectator of the race and was nowregarded by the jubilant boys as their mascot.

  "It's little enough to do at that," remarked one husky agriculturist."I'd be willing to cart the whole outfit over and back a dozen times forthe sake of seeing another race like that. I wish old Dobbin could hikealong like them things."

  And in this he expressed the general sentiment of the crowd.

  As they traveled campward through the cool twilight the boys shouted andsang, and in a thousand other noisy but harmless ways found a vent fortheir overflowing enthusiasm.

  Bert and Dick were the heroes of the day, as they well deserved to be.The race was run again at least a hundred times, and by the time theystruck camp t
hey had quieted down to some extent. Their beloved car had,of course, reached camp ahead of them, and now, as they alighted andcaught sight of Bert and Dick, their enthusiasm flamed up again, andcheer after cheer resounded through the silent woods.

  At last they cooled down sufficiently to go to bed, but it was a longtime before they finally got to sleep. Bert and Dick shook hands beforeparting to go to their different tents. For a few seconds they lookedinto each other's eyes, and the grip of their hands tightened beforethey finally separated and said good night. For when two good comradesmeet danger face to face and win out, a new and never-to-be-forgottenbond is riveted between them that lasts through life.

  * * * * *

  It was a wildly hilarious group of campers who sat down to a piping hotbreakfast the next morning. Some, indeed, had hardly slept at all, sogreat was their rejoicing at the "Red Scout's" glorious victory. Theyhad won and the much-vaunted "Gray Ghost" had had to "take their dust."What if it were their last day in camp? As Jim, who was famous formixing his figures of speech, said, "The camp, anyway, was breaking upin a blaze of glory." Every exciting detail of the great struggle wasrehearsed and enlarged upon, times without number. They crowded roundthe splendid car and praised it and patted it as though it were aliveand could understand how proud they were of its victory.

  And Bert! If he had been anything but the fine, manly fellow he was, hewould have been utterly spoiled by the plaudits heaped upon him. He hadbeen their hero before; now he was their idol. His skill, his judgment,his nerve, were dwelt upon to the exclusion of everything else; but hemodestly disclaimed any credit and put it all up to the car. "This isthe fellow that did it all," he said, patting the great machineaffectionately.

  "Yes," quoted Dick,

  "'This is the steed that saved the day, By carrying Sheridan into the fight From Winchester, twenty miles away,'

  but all the same," he went on, "the steed saved the day because Sheridanwas on his back, and the 'Red Scout' saved the day because Bert Wilsonwas at the wheel." And to this the whole camp gave a thundering chorusof assent.

  And Bert was at the wheel that afternoon, when, after "three timesthree" given for the "Red Scout" and its driver, the noble car stoodpanting, crowded to the guards with as many as could tumble in, ready tolead the way to the station where they were to take the train to thecity.

  "I tell you, Tom," he said, as he grasped the wheel and the great carsprang forward, "I never expect to have so much pleasure and excitementin my life as I have had this summer."

  But Bert was mistaken. A broader field and greater triumphs lay beforehim--exploits that would tax every ounce of brain and muscle; victorysnatched from defeat amid the applause of excited thousands. How he metthe test and won his fight will be told in the next volume, "BertWilson's Fadeaway Ball."

  THE END