Bert Wilson's Fadeaway Ball

CHAPTER X
A Wild Ride

It was a rather gloomy morning on which the team started for the college where they were to play one of the most important games of the series. If they won, they would eliminate the Grays and have only to contend with the Maroons; if they lost, all their splendid work of the season might have gone for nought.

They were a sober bunch, therefore, as they gathered at the railway station to await their train. There was little of the usual joking and horse play to be seen, but this may have been partly due to the depressing state of the weather. As the train came in sight, however, they chirked up somewhat at the thought of having something to occupy their minds, and piled aboard their special car in a little more cheerful mood. A dense, clammy fog hung low over the ground, and it was impossible to see more than a hundred feet or so into it in any direction.

The town in which they were to play to-day was almost a hundred miles distant, and so they had a considerable journey ahead of them. The train was a little behind time, and was making extra speed in an effort to catch up with its schedule. They had traversed several miles, and were relieving the monotony of the journey with jokes and riddles. As they passed over a particularly high trestle, and looked down into the dizzy void below, Sterling, the second baseman, said:

“Say, fellows, this trestle reminds me of a story I heard a little while ago. If somebody would beg me to real hard, I might be induced to tell it to you.”

“Go ahead!” “Shoot!” “Let’s hear it!” came a chorus of supplication, and Sterling said, “Well, if you insist, I suppose I will have to tell it to you. The scene of this thrilling anecdote is laid in the Far West, when it was much wilder and woollier than it is at present. It seems that two horse thieves had been captured by a band of ‘vigilantes,’ and after a trial notable for its brevity and lack of hampering formalities, they were both sentenced to be hanged. It was in a country in which there were no trees worthy of the name, and the only available place for the execution within several miles was a high railroad bridge. To this, accordingly, the ‘vigilantes’ conducted their prisoners, one of whom was a Swede and the other of Irish persuasion. The two were forced to draw lots to see which one should be hanged first, and, as it turned out, the Swede drew the short straw, and so was pronounced the first victim of justice.

“The noose of a stout lariat was fastened around his neck, and when everything was ready he was shoved off the bridge. As the strain of his weight came on the rope, however, the knot of the noose became untied, and the Swede fell to the rushing river below. He was not hurt much, and those on the bridge saw him swim to the bank and scramble ashore. There was no way of getting at him, so the lynchers had to satisfy themselves with many and varied oaths. The Irishman, of course, had watched the proceeding in a fascinated manner, and as the cowboys tied the rope around his neck, he said, in an imploring voice, ‘For Hivin’s sake, byes, tie the rope tight this time, for I can’t swim a stroke.’”

Hearty laughter greeted Sterling’s narrative, and the boys felt in better spirits after it.

“That reminds me of a story I heard once,” began Hinsdale. “It was when I was on a visit to my uncle’s ranch in Montana, and – ”

But he was interrupted by a crash that sounded as though the end of the world had come, and the car in which they were riding reared up in the air like a bucking horse. It rose almost to a perpendicular position, and then crashed over on its side. It scraped along a few rods in this position, and then came to a grinding halt.

For a few seconds there was silence, and then a pandemonium of muffled screams and cries broke forth. Bert’s voice was the first to be heard in their car, and it inquired, anxiously, “Where are you, Dick, Tom, and the rest of you? Are you alive yet? Here, you, get off my neck, will you, and give me a chance to breathe.”

There was a general scramble and struggle among the debris, and soon one boy after another climbed and crawled through the broken windows until finally they all stood accounted for. Many had painful scratches and bruises, but none were hurt at all seriously. Reddy, the trainer, drew a sigh of relief. “Thank Heaven for its mercies,” said he, fervently, and then, “Well, me lads, get a wiggle on, and we’ll see if everybody else has been as lucky as we have. From the looks of things up forward there, it’s more than I dare hope.”

The front part of the train, which had sustained the greatest shock of the collision, was indeed a terrible spectacle. Running full speed, the two trains had crashed into each other out of the fog before their engineers had fairly realized that anything was amiss. The locomotives were practically demolished, and one huge Mogul lay on its side beside the roadbed, steam still hissing from its broken pipes. The other engine still was on the rails, but its entire front had been demolished, and it was a total wreck. The coaches immediately back of the locomotives had been driven on by the momentum of the cars back of them, and had been partly telescoped; that is, the cars in the rear had plowed half way through before their progress was checked. To add to the horror of the scene, thin red flames were licking up from the wreckage, probably started by the coals from the engine. Many of the passengers were unable to extricate themselves from the wreckage, being pinned down by beams and other heavy articles. Their cries and supplications to be saved were pitiful as they saw the hungry flames gathering headway and eating their way toward them, and Reddy turned fiercely to the horror-stricken boys. “Here, what are ye standing around for?” he snarled. “Git back to our car and get out the axes and fire extinguishers there. You can get at them if you try. Come on; hurry!” and the trainer sprinted back toward the rear cars, followed in a body by the willing and eager boys. In less time than it takes to tell it, they returned, some with axes and some with extinguishers. The latter could make little progress against the flames, however, which by now had gained considerable headway, so the boys, assisted by such other of the passengers who were in a position to do so, proceeded to chop and dig their way to the imprisoned unfortunates. Person after person they dragged out in this manner, until they had rescued all but one man.

He was pinned down by a timber that had all the weight of one of the heavy trucks on it, and it seemed impossible that they could get him out before the fire got to him. Already they could feel its intense heat as they chopped and pulled, wrenched and lifted, in a frenzy of haste. Nearer and nearer crept the all-embracing fire, until eyebrows and hair began to singe with the deadly heat, and they were forced to work in relays, relieving each other every minute or so.

“For God’s sake, if you can’t get me out of here before the fire reaches me, kill me,” pleaded the unfortunate prisoner, “don’t let me roast here by degrees!”

“No danger of that,” gasped Bert, as he swung a huge timber aside that under ordinary circumstances he would have been unable even to move. “We’ll have you out in a jiffy, now.”

“Come on boys, we’ve got to move this truck,” yelled Reddy. “Here, everybody get hold on this side, and when I say pull, pull for your lives! Now! get hold! Ready?”

“Yes!” they gasped between set teeth.

“Pull!” fairly screamed Reddy, and every man and boy grasping the obstinate mass of twisted metal put every ounce of strength in his body into one supreme effort. The mass swayed, gave, and then toppled back where it had been before!

“Don’t give up!” yelled Bert, frantically, as he saw some of the men release their hold and turn away, evidently despairing of accomplishing their object. “Try it again! For God’s sake remember you’re men, and try again! It’s a human life that’s at stake!”

Thus adjured, they returned to the task, and at the signal from Reddy, wrenched and tore frantically at the inert mass that appeared to mock their puny efforts.

“Keep it up, keep it up!” gritted Reddy. Slowly but surely, every muscle straining to its utmost and threatening to snap under the terrific strain, they raised the heavy truck, and with one last mad heave and pull sent it toppling down the railroad embankment.

With a wild yell they fell upon the few light timbers lying between them and the imprisoned man, and soon had him stretched out safely beside the track. On examination it proved that he had an arm wrenched and several minor injuries, but nothing fatal.

“Nothing I can say will express half the gratitude I feel toward you young men,” he said, smiling weakly up into the faces of the boys grouped about him, “you have saved me from a horrible death, and I will never forget it.”

While waiting for the arrival of the wrecking crew and a doctor, the rescued man had considerable further talk with the members of the team, and they learned, much to their surprise, that he was an alumnus of their college. Their pleasure at this discovery was very great, and that of the stranger seemed little less.

“The old college has done me a whole lot of good, all through my life,” he said, “but never as much as it did to-day, through her baseball team. You will hear further from me, young men.”

“Oh, it was nothing much to do,” deprecated Bert, “we did the only thing there was to be done under the circumstances, and that was all there was to it!”

“Not a bit of it,” insisted the gentleman. “Why, just take a look at your faces. You are all as red as though you had been boiled, and your eyebrows are singed. I declare, anybody looking at us would think that you had had a good deal harder time of it than I had.”

And nothing the boys could say would induce him to alter his opinion of their heroism in the slightest degree.

Soon they heard a whistle far down the track, and shortly afterward the wrecking train hove in view. It consisted, besides the locomotive and tender, of a tool car, in which were stored all kinds of instruments, jacks, etc., that could possibly be required, and a flat car on which a sturdy swinging crane was mounted. The railroad company had also sent several physicians, who were soon busily engaged in taking proper care of the injured.

In the meantime, the crew of the wrecking train, headed by a burly foreman, got in strenuous action, and the boys marveled at the quick and workmanlike manner in which they proceeded to clear the line. As is the case with all wrecking crews, their orders were to clear the road for traffic in the shortest time regardless of expense. The time lost in trying to save, for instance, the remains of a locomotive or car for future use, would have been much more valuable than either.

A gang of Italians were set to work clearing off the lighter portion of the wreckage, and the wrecking crew proper proceeded to get chains under the locomotive that remained on the tracks. It was so twisted and bent that not one of its wheels would even turn, so it was impossible to tow it away. The only solution of the problem, then, was to lift it off the track. After the crew had placed and fastened the chains to the satisfaction of the foreman, who accompanied the process with a string of weird oaths, the signal was given to the man operating the steam crane to “hoist away.”

The strong engine attached to the massive steel crane began to whirr, and slowly the great mass of the locomotive rose, inch by inch, into the air. When the front part was entirely clear of the tracks, the operator touched another lever, and the crane swung outward, carrying the huge locomotive with it as a child might play with a toy. It was a revelation of the unlimited might of that powerful monster, steam.

Further and further swung the crane, until the locomotive was at right angles to the track, with its nose overhanging the embankment. Then, with the foreman carefully directing every movement with uplifted hand and caustic voice, the locomotive was lowered gently down the embankment, partly sliding and partly supported by the huge chain, every link of which was almost a foot long.

In speaking of this chain afterward one of the boys said he wished he had stolen it so that he might wear it as a watch-chain.

The engine finally came to rest at the foot of the incline, and the chain was slackened and cast off. Then the crane took the next car in hand, and went through much the same process with it. Car after car was slid down the embankment, and in an incredibly short time the roadway was cleared of wreckage. Then it was seen that several rails had been ripped up, but these were quickly replaced by others from racks built along the right of way, such as the reader has no doubt often seen.

In a little over an hour from the time the wrecking crew came on the scene the last bolt on the rail connecting plates had been tightened, and the track was ready again for traffic.

“Gee,” exclaimed Tom, “that was quick work, for fair. Why, if anybody had asked me, I would have said that no train would have been able to use this roadway for at least a day. That crew knows its business, and no mistake.”

“They sure do,” agreed Dick, “they cleared things up in jig time. But it only shows what can be done when you go about it in the right way.”

“I only wish we had had that crane when we were trying to lift the truck up,” said the trainer, who had sauntered up to the group. “It wouldn’t have been any trick at all with that little pocket instrument.”

“No,” laughed Bert. “I think that in the future I will carry one around with me in case of emergencies. You don’t know when it might come in handy.”

“Great head, great head,” approved Dick, solemnly, and then they both laughed heartily, and the others joined in. After their recent narrow escape from death, life seemed a very pleasant and jolly thing.

But suddenly Bert’s face sobered. “How the dickens are we going to get to the game in time?” he inquired. “The service is all tied up, and it will be hours and hours before we can get there.”

This was indeed a problem, and there seemed to be no solution. There was no other railroad running within twenty miles of this one, and while a trolley line connecting the towns was building, it had not as yet been completed. As Tom expressed it, “they were up against it good and plenty.”

While they were discussing the problem, and someone had despairingly suggested that they walk, Mr. Clarke, the gentleman whom the boys had rescued from the wreck, strolled up, with his arm neatly done up in a sling. His face looked pale and drawn, but aside from the wrenched arm he appeared none the worse for his harrowing experience.

When informed of the problem facing the team, he appeared nonplussed at first, but then his face lightened up.

“My home isn’t more than a mile from here,” he said, “and I have recently bought a large seven-passenger automobile. You could all pack into that without much trouble, and there is a fine macadam road leading from within a few blocks of my house to the town for which you are bound. But there,” and his face clouded over, “I forgot. I discharged my chauffeur the other day, and I have not had time as yet to engage another. I don’t know whom I could get to drive the car. I can’t do it on account of my broken arm.”

“Shucks, that’s too bad,” said Reddy, in a disappointed tone, “that would be just the thing, if we only had someone to run it. That’s what I call tough luck. I guess there’s no game for us to-day, boys, unless we think of something else.”

But here Bert spoke up. “If Mr. Clarke wouldn’t be afraid to trust the car to me,” he said, “I know how to drive, and I can promise we will take the best care of it. I know that car fore and aft, from radiator to taillight.”

“Why, certainly, go as far as you like,” said Mr. Clarke, heartily. “If you are sure you can handle it I will be only too glad to let you have it. Nothing I can do will repay a thousandth part of what I owe you boys.”

“You’re sure you’re capable of handling a car, are you, Wilson?” inquired the trainer, with a searching look. “I don’t want to take a chance on getting mixed up in any more wrecks to-day. The one we’ve had already will satisfy me for some time to come.”

“Watch me,” was all Bert said, but Dick and Tom both chimed in indignantly, “I guess you don’t know whom we have with us,” said Tom, “why, Bert has forgotten more about automobiles than I ever knew, and I’m no slouch at that game.”

“That’s right,” confirmed Dick. “Bert’s some demon chauffeur, Reddy. Believe me, we’ll have to move some, too, if we expect to get to D – in time for the game. Why!” he exclaimed, glancing at his watch, “it’s after one now, and we’re due to be at the grounds at 2:30. How far is it, Mr. Clarke, from your house to D – ?”

Mr. Clarke calculated a moment, and then said, “Why, I guess it must be from fifty to fifty-five miles. You’ll have to burn up the road to get there in anything like time,” he said, and glanced quizzically at Bert.

“That’s easy,” returned the latter, “a car like yours ought to be capable of seventy miles an hour in a pinch.”

Mr. Clarke nodded his head. “More than that,” he said, “but be careful how you try any stunts like seventy miles an hour. I don’t care about the car, but I don’t want the old college to be without a baseball team owing to an automobile smashup.”

“Never fear,” said Bert, confidently. “You may be sure I will take no unnecessary chances. I don’t feel as though I wanted to die yet awhile.”

“All right,” said Mr. Clarke, and proceeded to give them directions on the shortest way to reach his home. When he had finished, Reddy sang out, “All right, boys, let’s get a move on. Double quick now! We haven’t a minute to lose.”

Accordingly the whole team started off at a swinging trot, and it was not long before Mr. Clarke’s handsome residence came into view. Mr. Clarke had given them a note, which they presented to his wife, who met them at the door. She was much agitated at the news contained therein, but, after a few anxious questions, proceeded to show them where the machine was located, and gave them the key to the garage. They raced down a long avenue of stately trees, and soon came to the commodious stone garage. Reddy unlocked the doors, and swung them wide.

“Gee, what a machine,” breathed Bert, and stood a moment in mute admiration. The automobile was of the very latest pattern, and was the finest product of an eminent maker. The sun sparkled on its polished enamel and brass work. But Bert had no eyes for these details. He raised the hood and carefully inspected the engine. Then he peered into the gasoline and oil tanks, and found both plentifully supplied.

“All right,” he announced, after this inspection. “Pile in someway, and we’ll get a move on. What time is it, Tom?”

“Just twenty-five minutes of two,” announced Tom, after consulting his watch. “I hope we don’t get arrested for speeding, that’s all. This reminds me of the old ‘Red Scout’ days, doesn’t it you, Dick?”

“It sure does,” agreed the latter, with a reminiscent smile. “We’ll have to go mighty fast to break the records we made then, won’t we, old sock?” slapping Bert on the shoulder.

“That’s what,” agreed Bert, as he cranked the motor.

The big engine coughed once or twice, and then settled down into a contented purring. Bert threw in the reverse and backed out of the garage. He handled the big car with practised hands, and Reddy, who had been watching him carefully, drew a sigh of relief. “I guess he knows his business, all right,” he reflected, and settled back on the luxurious cushions of the tonneau. The car was packed pretty solidly, you may be sure, and everyone seated on the cushions proper had somebody else perched on his lap. This did not matter, however, and everybody was too excited to feel uncomfortable.

As they passed the porch, they stopped, and Mrs. Clarke, who had been waiting to see them off, gave Bert directions on how to find the main road. “Follow the road in front of the house due south for about half or three-quarters of a mile,” she said, “and then turn to your left on the broad, macadam road that you will see at about this point. That will take you without a break to D – . Be careful of that car, though,” she said to Bert, “I’m almost afraid of it, it’s so very powerful.”

“It will need all its power to-day,” said Bert, smiling, and they all said good-bye to Mrs. Clarke. Then Bert slipped in the clutch, and the big car glided smoothly out on the road in front of the house, and in a very short time they came to the main road of which Mrs. Clarke had spoken.

“Now, Bert, let her rip,” said Dick, who was in the seat beside our hero. Bert did.

Little by little he opened the throttle till the great machine was rushing along the smooth road at terrific speed. Faster and faster they flew. The wind whistled in their ears, and all who were not holding on to their caps lost them. There was no time to stop for such a trivial item, and indeed nobody even thought of such a thing. To get to the game, that was the main thing. Also, the lust of speed had entered their hearts, and while they felt horribly afraid at the frightful pace, there was a certain mad pleasure in it, too. The speedometer needle crept up and up, till it touched the sixty-mile-an-hour mark. Reddy wanted to tell Bert to slacken speed, but feared that the boys would think he was “scared,” so said nothing. Bert’s heart thrilled, and the blood pounded madly through his veins. His very soul called for speed, speed! and he gradually opened the throttle until it would go no further. The great car responded nobly, and strained madly ahead. The whirring gears hummed a strident tune, and the explosions from the now open muffler sounded in an unbroken roar. The passengers in the machine grew dizzy, and some were forced to close their eyes to protect them from the rushing, tearing wind. The fields on both sides streaked away in back of them like a vari-colored ribbon, and the gray road seemed leaping up to meet them. The speedometer hand pointed to eighty miles an hour, and now there was a long decline in front of them. The boys thought that then Bert would surely reduce the power somewhat, but apparently no such thought entered his mind. Down the long slope they swooped, and then – What was that in front of them, that they were approaching at such terrific speed? At a glance Bert saw that it consisted of two farm wagons traveling along toward them at a snail’s pace, their drivers engaged in talk, and oblivious of the road in front of them. Bert touched the siren lever, and a wild shriek burst from the tortured siren. The drivers gave one startled glance at the flying demon approaching them, and then started to draw up their horses to opposite sides of the road. They seemed fairly to crawl and Bert felt an awful contraction of his heart. What if they could not make it? He knew that it would have been folly to apply the brakes at the terrific speed at which they were traveling, and his only chance lay in going between the two wagons.

Slowly – slowly – the wagons drew over to the side of the road, and Bert calculated the distance with straining eyes. His hands gripped the wheel until his knuckles stood out white and tense.

Now they were upon the wagons – and through! A vision of rearing horses, excited, gesticulating drivers – and they were through, with a scant half foot to spare on either side.

A deep sigh went up from the passengers in the car, and tense muscles were relaxed. Gradually, little by little, Bert reduced the speed until they were traveling at a mere forty miles an hour, which seemed quiet, safe and slow, after their recent hair-raising pace. Reddy pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead, which was beaded with perspiration.

“We looked death in the face that time,” he declared, gravely. “I never expected to get out of that corner alive. If we had hit one of those wagons, it would have been all up with us. For heaven’s sake, Wilson, take it a little easier in the future, will you? I don’t want to decorate a marble slab in the morgue just yet awhile.”

Tom pulled out his watch, and found that it was after two o’clock. “We can’t be far from the town now,” he declared. “I’ll bet that’s it, where you see the steeple over there in the distance.”

“That’s what it is,” chimed in several of the others, who had been to the town before; “we’ll get there with time to spare.”

The intervening mile or so was covered in a jiffy, and the car entered the town. Almost immediately they were recognized by some in the crowd, and were greeted with cheers. A couple of young fellows whom they knew jumped up on the running-board as Bert slowed down for them.

“Gee,” said one, “there’s some class to you fellows, all right, all right. It isn’t every baseball team that can travel around the country in a giddy buzz wagon like the one you have there. Who belongs to it, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s too long a story to tell now,” said the trainer. “We’ll tell you all about it after the game. It’s about time we were starting in to practise a little.”

They soon arrived at the grounds, and were greeted by an ovation. The news of the wreck had just been telegraphed in, and the spectators had been a sorely disappointed lot until the arrival of the car bearing the Blues. The news had spread over the field, and some of the spectators had started to leave, thinking that, of course, there would be no game.

These soon returned, however, and settled down to see the struggle.

It would seem as though the Blues would have little energy left after such an exciting day as they had passed through, but such is the wonderful elasticity and recuperative powers of youth, that they played one of the snappiest games of the season, and after a hotly contested fight won out by a score of four to two.

As they returned to the clubhouse after the game, they were surprised beyond measure to see Mr. Clarke waiting for them. He greeted them with a smile, and shook hands all around with his uninjured arm.

“I caught the first train that went through,” he explained, “and got here in time to see the last inning. You fellows put up a cracker-jack game, and I think you are an honor to the old college. It was a wonder you did not lose. After what you have been through to-day I should not have been a bit surprised or disappointed.”

They thanked him for his kind speech, and then nothing would do but that they must have supper with him at the most expensive hotel in town. Needless to say, this meal was done ample justice, and when Mr. Clarke informed them that he had hired rooms for them for the night the announcement was greeted with a cheer.

“I have telegraphed home, so nobody will be worried about you,” he said. “They know you’re in safe hands,” and his eyes twinkled.

It was a tired lot of athletes that tumbled up to bed that night, and soon they were sleeping the deep, dreamless sleep of healthy exhaustion.