Frank Merriwell's Son; Or, A Chip Off the Old Block
Page 30
CHAPTER XXX.
THE EDUCATED HORSE.
Honk! honk! honk!
Frank glanced over his shoulder.
"Automobile coming, Bart," he said. "She's raising a cloud of dust.Better give her plenty of room."
Frank and Bart were out for a morning horseback ride through thecountry. After a dash of an hour or more, they had turned back and werenow in sight of Farnham Hall and Merry Home.
Bart's mount began to dance and lunge.
"Whoa, Pansy--whoa, lady," he said soothingly. "She doesn't fancy buzzwagons a great deal, Merry."
"She never did," replied Frank, "but she'll get used to them. They'regrowing thicker every day. I've ordered one myself."
"Honk! honk! honk!" sounded the automobile horn close behind them.
With a purring of the valves, a soft panting from the exhaust, and awhir of wheels, a huge red machine flew past them in a cloud of dust.
"Forty miles an hour," said Hodge, blinking his eyes and turning his capbrim down to the cloud of dust. "That's some speed for these roads,Merry."
"And I'll guarantee they'll go through town like that," returned Frank."Whew! Some of these machines ought to have a sprinkler attachment."
"They're stopping," said Bart. "By George! they're turning into yourplace. Did you know any one in the car?"
"Got only a glimpse of them, and they seemed to be strangers to me."
"That's a flyer they have. What make is it, do you know?"
"It's a French machine, I believe. It looks to me like a Mercedes."
"Are you going to have an imported machine, Frank?"
"Oh, no. I'm satisfied with the best American makes. A good Americanmachine is better adapted for our roads than any of the crackforeigners."
"How do you make that out?"
"It's simple enough. In France they have grand roads everywhere. Theirmachines are made for such roads, and on such roads they can fairly fly.In this country we have a few fairly good roads, but the majority of ourhighways are wretchedly bad. The American makers have built machinesadapted for such roads, and on these roads our better-made motor carsare superior to anything we can bring across the water."
"But I understand that most of the American machines are fakes. I'vebeen told they are far from perfect."
Frank laughed.
"The perfect automobile has not been made, and I doubt if it ever willbe," he answered. "The honest American manufacturers who know theirbusiness are making honest machines. It's true that there are a host offakers in the business. It's true that nearly seventy-five per cent ofthe machines turned out at the present time are built for the solepurpose of making money for the manufacturers. The American public hasnot yet been educated to the point of discerning between the fake andthe honest article. Nevertheless they're learning mighty fast, andwithin a very few years the fakers are bound to reach the end of theirropes and go to the wall. Unless they change their methods, five yearsfrom now one-third of the concerns now doing business will no longer bein the field. Ten years from now a half of the present manufacturerswill be out of it."
"That sounds a little pessimistical for you."
"Oh, no, Bart; it's optimistical. I'm confident that the sharks andsharpers will fail and the honest concerns will endure and prosper. Theautomobile has come to stay. There is no question about that. Themajority of the present-day buyers are going to be defrauded, and manyof them will become disgusted. In purchasing a machine I've not reliedon my own judgment, but I've sought the advice of friends who werecompetent to advise. I hope and I believe that I've got my money'sworth. Here we are, and there are the gentlemen of the red bubbletalking with some of the fellows."
The machine stood on the driveway in front of the house, with thechauffeur still in his seat. Two of the four men had stepped out of thecar and were talking with Buck Badger, Ephraim Gallup, and BarneyMulloy. Mrs. Merriwell was with a group of her friends on the veranda.
Badger waved his hand as Frank and Bart turned in at the wide gate.
"Here are some gents what are looking for you, Merry," called theKansan.
Frank clattered up and drew rein, but Bart's horse was frightened andshied at the machine. Hodge gave the little mare a touch of the spur andreined her toward the automobile. After a time he succeeded in bringingher close to it and guiding her round it, although she snorted andfretted and betrayed great alarm and excitement.
"You countrymen will have to kill off a few of your skittish horses,"observed a stout, sandy-mustached man, one of the two who had left thecar. "If you don't, they're liable to kill you."
"I don't think there's any great danger of that as long as a man knowshow to handle them properly," said Frank, as he patted the neck of hisown horse. "Dick was afraid of automobiles, but I've succeeded ineliminating that fear, and you can see how he behaves now."
"You never can be sure what a horse will do," returned the stout man."There never was one yet that had an ounce of brains. They're allfools."
"Do you think so?" smiled Merriwell. "Of course you have a right to youropinion, but I don't believe many people will agree with you. I've seenhorses which were more intelligent than many men."
"Bah! bah!" retorted the stranger. "They can't reason. They can't think.All they know is enough to eat and work. The best horse in the countryis none too good to pull a plow."
A queer twinkle flashed in Frank's eyes.
"Perhaps I can convince you of your mistake, sir," he said. "I don'thappen to know your name, but----"
"My name is Basil Bearover. This young man here"--with a jerk of histhumb toward Badger--"informs me that you are Frank Merriwell."
"Yes, I'm Frank Merriwell, Mr. Bearover. We were speaking of horses. NowI'll admit that Pansy yonder hasn't been properly educated. In time Ihope to improve her greatly. In time I hope to teach her to perform afew simple mathematical problems, although I doubt if she'll ever beable to talk."
"Huh?" blurted Bearover. "Mathematical fudge! Able to talk? What sort ofrot are you trying to give me, young man?"
"Have you never seen a horse that could add, subtract, multiply, anddivide?" asked Merry, with pretended surprise.
"No, sir, I never have, nor has any one else."
"Wait a moment before you make such a confident statement. Now thishorse of mine can do all those little things and still other things agreat deal more surprising. I'll prove the truth of my statement to you.Hey, Dick--Dick, my boy, give me your attention. Now, sir, I wish you todo a little sum for me. Are you ready? Are you listening? Are youattentive?"
The horse nodded its head as if in answer to these questions.
"Very good, Dick," said Frank. "I'll give you a small sum in addition.How many are two and two?"
The horse lifted its forward right foot and struck the ground fourtimes.
"That's right, Dick--that's right," laughed Merry, patting thecreature's neck. "Now we'll take a little example in subtraction. If wesubtract five from ten, how many have we left?"
The horse struck the ground five times with its foot.
"That's right again, Dick. Let's see what you can do in multiplication.Three times two make how many?"
Six times the horse struck the ground.
"You're right up to the mark this morning, Dick," said the animal'smaster. "We'll finish up with a little subtraction. If we take sevenfrom fourteen, how many will be left?"
Seven times Dick pawed the ground.
"There you are, Mr. Bearover," nodded Merriwell. "Are you satisfied thateven horses have brains?"
"I'm satisfied that you've trained that critter to do a few tricks," wasthe answer. "You must think I'm purty dull witted. Why, you begun withan example that made the horse paw the ground four times. Your nextquestion required five strokes of the critter's foot. Then came six, andyou followed it up with seven. Come, come, Mr. Merriwell, you're notdealing with chumps. I've seen horses that could do them little things,but it's no sign of brains. You're on the critter's back. By trainingit, you could git it
so it would paw the ground every time you pressedyour knee against its shoulder. Git off the horse and stand away; thenlet's see what it will do. Then let's see you make it do sums inaddition, subtraction, and so forth."
"Very well," said Merry, as he dismounted, dropping the bridle rein onDick's neck. "We'll see what he'll do in that manner."
He stroked the horse's muzzle, and the animal placed its head on hisshoulder.
"Dick," said Frank, "this doubting Thomas thinks it's all trickery. Hecan't believe that you're a finished mathematician. We must convincehim, Dick. Now be careful and give your answers correctly. Stand whereyou are, sir."
Frank retreated fully ten feet. With his hands on his hips and a smileon his face, he said:
"We'll take a simpler sum in addition, Dick. You understand this isaddition, old boy. Two and one make how many?"
The horse lifted his foot and struck the ground three times.
"Let me give him a question," grinned Bearover. "Let's see if he'llanswer me."
"Oh, very well," said Frank. "Dick, do you see this gentleman here? Takea look at him. He's going to give you a problem, and you must answer it.I trust he'll make it a simple one. You haven't been brushing up inmathematics lately, and a difficult problem might bother you a little.Will you kindly make it a simple question, Mr. Bearover?"
"Oh, yes; oh, yes," chuckled the stout man, "I'll make it simple enough.Let's see if your wonderful horse can tell us how many ten and fiveadded together be."
The horse stood quite still for a moment and did not lift its foot.Instead of that, the creature seemed to be eying Basil Bearover with alook of disdain. Finally a most astounding thing happened, for Dick'slip curled back, exposing his teeth, and from his mouth there seemed toissue these words:
"Any blamed fool would know that ten and five make fifteen!"