The Auto Boys' Quest

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER VII

  A NIGHT ADVENTURE

  The cries for help which broke upon the quiet of the night, rousing theAuto Boys as they slept, they quickly answered. With what result hasbeen told in the Sagersgrove item appearing in the Lannington morningpaper, the second day following.

  Briefly, the circumstances were that, his mind overheated by his largeestimate of his own importance, Marshal Wellock's imagination got thebetter of him. True, the four young strangers had appeared to be in agreat hurry. True, one does not often see, even in larger cities thanSagersgrove, four mere youths enjoying a touring car equipped forlong-distance work. Also the Sagersgrove operator had plainly hinted tothe marshal the telegram the lads received looked decidedly queer. Andto one unacquainted with the facts, it must be admitted, also, that suchan impression was quite natural.

  All in all, the bumptious officer, believing he saw a glowingopportunity to distinguish himself, enlisted one Eli Gouger in hisenterprise, not so much because he desired that gentleman's assistance,as for the reason that Mr. Gouger was possessed of a motor car. He usedthe machine, a light runabout, in his business of ice-cream peddling, onSunday afternoons particularly, and on various occasions when notoccupied with another line of activity he pursued, namely, that ofgeneral detective.

  In this connection it may as well be stated quite frankly that if Mr.Gouger had ever succeeded in detecting anything more than some smallboys, whom he once caught filching cherries from his trees, the world atlarge had yet to learn of it. But perhaps that was the fault of peoplewho might have employed him, but didn't. He always had said he never gothalf a chance in detective work, though he liked it ever so much betterthan the ice-cream business.

  Be this as it may, Mr. Gouger, private detective, had eagerly joinedMarshal Wellock in his proposal that they pursue the four mysteriousyouths who, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the marshal himself declared,had stolen the automobile in which they attracted so much attention infront of the telegraph office.

  In some respects the two officials were well matched. Mr. Gouger wasconsiderably the younger, but his attire had the same appearance ofneeding renovating that marked the marshal's outfit. In theirconclusions with regard to the absolute certainty that the youngstrangers were automobile thieves, and that probably a reward wasoffered somewhere for their arrest, the two were also quite identical.Even in their private and personal opinions of each other they did notdiffer greatly.

  Marshal Wellock secretly considered Mr. Gouger to be nothing more than awould-be private detective, whose gilded badge was worth about fivecents as a novelty--nothing more.

  Eli, on the other hand, had long since reached within his own confidencethe certain conviction that the town of Sagersgrove needed nothing somuch as a new marshal; that Mr. Wellock was a conceited old loafer andnothing more, and that a man of about Eli Gouger's age should be in hisplace.

  The very fact that, in the recesses of their hearts, the two men had foreach other a minus quantity in the matter of admiration, was to a degreeresponsible for the ignominious ending of their enterprise. Eachsecretly planning to reap the major portion of the glory, also thereward they persuaded themselves would follow the capture of the fourdesperate car thieves, they chugged painfully over the road the AutoBoys had taken. Darkness had come before they were fairly started. Nowit was growing very late.

  "It's sure as shootin' that they stole the car. They never would havetook such a road, except they was tryin' to sneak along where nobodywould see 'em," observed Mr. Gouger.

  The going grew steadily worse. It was past midnight. The little runabouthad been making a slow and trying voyage over the ruts and through theholes. Perhaps Marshal Wellock was weary. He certainly had becomeimpatient.

  "Can't you get a little more speed out o' this junk wagon? Like ridin'in a stone-boat," he remarked pretty sharply, after a long silence inwhich he had reflected upon the probability that Mr. Gouger was "puttingup some game" on him.

  Nettled by these words, and being tired, cross and likewise suspicioushimself, Mr. Gouger decided to shake the marshal into a better humor bygoing over a very rough place at the fastest rate the little car couldmuster. Possibly he would have succeeded; at any rate Mr. Wellock wasgripping his seat with both hands to hold on, when suddenly, whizz! Thecar skidded into a rut, Mr. Gouger for a moment lost control, and inanother instant the little machine leaped over the low bank into astagnant pool of thick, dirty water and almost bottomless mud.

  "Now see what you done!" gasped Mr. Wellock, sputtering and spitting, ashe succeeded in dragging himself up the bank. He had gone out of hisseat and into the mud and water like a log rolled off a flat car.

  "Who in thunder made me do it? Nobody's fault but your own! I knew'twasn't safe, but by _gum_! you kept squealin' for more speed! Now seewhat _you_ done," hotly returned Eli, who had also taken into his mouthrather more of the stagnant water than he seemed to relish. Headforemost he had pitched out over the steering wheel as the machine wentdown.

  What followed when the two had taken inventory and found themselves notseriously damaged, though in a truly sorry plight, has in substance beentold. Both men were still wet from head to foot and literally coveredwith the thick, oozy mud when the Auto Boys reached them.

  The first task was to rescue the car. This was accomplished by means ofropes hitched to the Thirty though the runabout had sunk almost out ofsight. Beside the rekindled campfire on the ridge, a half-mile away, thetwo unhappy officers bathed as best they could and dried their clothes.

  The dawn of the early summer morning was breaking now, and Billy Worthbestirred himself to prepare breakfast. The other boys began repackingthe car which had been quickly unloaded, preparatory to answering thecalls for help.

  The identity of the lads Mr. Wellock and Mr. Gouger had learned to theirentire satisfaction. Yet it was with mixed feelings of disappointmentand relief that they became convinced of their folly in supposing thefour young men to be thieves and runaways. For it _was_ a disappointmentthat for all their trouble they had received nothing but a ducking in aswamp; and it _was_ something of a relief not to feel compelled toplace under arrest those who had been of such timely service.

  So, as they scraped the thickest of the mud from their clothing, thecrestfallen officers agreed to say nothing to the boys to indicate thatthe lads themselves were, in fact, the suspected car thieves of whom,they had already told, they were in pursuit. Unfortunately theirself-importance had caused them to let a large part of Sagersgrove knowthe object of their journey as they set out. Their return home, inconsequence, was followed by a very different kind of story in thenewspapers than they had pictured would be the case.

  However, that was a matter for the marshal's and the detective's own andlater consideration. For the present, and for a long time afterward, forthat matter, the degree of admiration they confidentially entertainedtoward each other was not materially increased. Nevertheless, the twodid have the manliness to bury their mutual feelings of irritation, inthe presence of the young strangers, and to offer in return for all thathad been done for them to direct the boys to a cross road by which theycould soon reach their proper route.

  A hasty breakfast being over, the Thirty was again turned back to thescene of the runabout's accident. The little car had not been greatlydamaged and from this point it slowly led the way eastward. At a stillearly hour a road leading off to the right and seeming to terminate inthe very depths of the marshes was reached. With the assurance, however,that the rough trail was passable and led directly to the State pike,the Auto Boys ventured upon this course, Mr. Gouger's machine going onin advance as before.

  A struggle of nearly two hours through ruts and holes--one so bad thatthe Thirty was practically unloaded before getting through--brought thepromised end. Coming out of a stump-strewn lane, for the cross road wasat this point nothing more, the two machines emerged upon a fine, smoothroad. There was a sigh of relief from five of the six travelers. Thesixth simply shouted and the hearty enthusiasm of his "
Hurrah!" wasinspiring. Needless to say, the noisy one was--to use his own usual formof identification--"Mr. P. Jones, Esquire."

  "It was us they were after, all right. I'm satisfied of that," was BillyWorth's comment when good-bys had been said to the two men. "Theysuspected something or other, and I only wish we knew what."

  "I hardly believe that," Phil Way protested mildly, but Paul and Davesided quite emphatically with Worth.

  Perhaps it is immaterial, but the subject was discussed at great length.And as the Thirty again rolled smoothly forward all but Phil recalledwith unconcealed satisfaction the woeful spectacle the two men presentedwhen first the light from the automobile lamps, carried to the scene ofrescue, fell upon them.

  "Why, honestly, I'm glad Dave did get us onto that awful road. We've hada real adventure," chirped Jones; but he had to dodge a backhand swingfrom MacLester the same moment. To make his peace in that quarter headded: "Anyhow we didn't lose so much time and I wouldn't have missedthe excitement for a lot."

  So, as the speed and the road permitted, the talk ran on and meanwhilethe car was making good progress forward. The map showed nearly twohundred miles yet to be covered and half the distance must be madeto-day if possible. If the going continued good this would be nohardship, but the old pike would be left behind before night, and roadconditions beyond were likely to be questionable.

  Following the extremely early breakfast, the usual noonday lunch waslooked forward to with no little impatience as the morning advanced.Phil had suggested that no pause be made until a small river, shown onthe map to be not many miles distant, was reached, and the othersagreed. Nevertheless a wagon, en route to some market with strawberries,was so much of a temptation that the car was halted and two baskets ofthe fine fruit were purchased. The contents of one of these disappearedin a manner well calculated to make adherents of Fletcherism hold uptheir hands in amazement, had any such been near--which assuredly therewere not, or not in the automobile, at least.

  The second basket Billy Worth simply put away to be enjoyed with theregular noon luncheon; nor would all of Paul's and Dave's coaxing softenhis stony-hearted determination. Billy, it will be remembered, was thecook and general chief of the commissary department. As such hepossessed in a strong degree the trait, peculiar to those offices, ofalways being ready to repel too severe a raid upon the larder betweenmeals and always keen to add some delicacy to the commissary's store.

  And maybe Billy's idea was the right one. Certain it is that when theriver bridge was crossed at last and the noon camp was made under somewillows just beyond, nothing could be finer than the deliciously freshberries with sugar and cream. Phil brought the latter from a farmhouseon the hill above and a still larger supply of good, rich milk. With thefruit, bread and butter, cheese, crackers and the last of the boiledham, the repast was ample in both quantity and enjoyment.

  "Only wish we had that other quart of strawberries," sighed Paul Jones,longingly.

  "Of course you do, p-i-g! Lucky to have _any_!" Billy reminded him."Provisions are going to be a thing to look out for on this trip."

  "Well spoken, my boy; well spoken!" responded Paul, with patronizingair; but Phil put in, "No joke about that. Nothing nearer the Ship woodsthan Gilroy and that's six or seven miles away. No telling, either, howfar back in the woods we may be."

  "Great Columbus, Phil! Don't talk that way! You'll give Bill nervousprostration!" exclaimed MacLester, rising and starting to look the carover. "On the job here, you fellows, if you're going with me!" he addedbriskly. For Mac was driving to-day and the responsibility of coveringyet another sixty miles before sundown, and over roads some of whichmight be extremely bad, rested on his shoulders.

  If "on the job" meant "on the car," as at least seems probable,instructions were followed with alacrity. Not even pausing to gather upthe evidences of their having stopped for lunch, Billy and Paul hastilypacked away bread and butter and similar supplies, then clambered intothe tonneau. Phil had hurried to the river's edge where he washed dishesand milk buckets in a shorter space of time than he would ordinarilyhave considered proper; but the car was chugging away in waiting and hejumped up to the seat beside Dave in an exceedingly spry and nimblemanner.

  "Go ahead," he said, and the Thirty answered gently, smoothly to theclutch.

  "You left that strawberry basket lying there by the fence and you hadscribbled all over it," said Billy Worth to Paul, a half hour later. Hewas thinking of the possibility of the Chosen Trio coming on behind,perhaps in hot pursuit, yet uncertain of the course, "What did you writeon the box?"

  "Why! Say, that's _so_!" was the answer, with a disconcerted grin,"That's right! I wrote 'P. Jones, Esq.,' for one thing, and 'With kindregards to Lannington.' I drew a picture or two and--Gee! I thought I'dtoss the basket into the river! Don't s'pose it will hurt, do you,Bill?"

  "Guess not. Of course we aren't billing the country as if we were acircus, exactly. At least that wasn't what we set out to do."

  "Well, what d'ye think of it? I'm frank to say I'm a fine youngchimpanzee," Jones muttered, really blaming himself a great deal.

  "Oh, don't gnash your teeth over it! There's just about one chance in ahundred that Gaines and his crew will ever find which way we came or trynow to follow us," said Billy reassuringly.

  Phil and Dave agreed with Worth as the subject was discussed later,saying there was no probability whatever that Paul's writing would evercome to the Trio's notice. Even if Gaines' Roadster were to pass theidentical spot, what likelihood was there that any of the party wouldnotice or give heed to a little, empty strawberry basket?

  So did Jones quickly recover his wonted joyousness. Blithely he wasdeclaring, "Oh, I guess I'm no wizard! No, no wizard at all. No, not atall!" his customary good opinion of himself quite restored, within a fewhours.

  The sun was low. Camp for the night had been made beside a turbulentlittle brook where a woodland skirted the highway. Paul had gone to adwelling some distance to the rear for milk. He returned bringing notonly the five quart bucket nearly full, but eggs and a basket ofberries, as well. Hence his self-complacency; hence for the third time,his words accompanied by that contagious grin, so peculiarly hisown--"Oh, I guess I'm no wizard! Nothing like that at all!"