The Speedwell Boys and Their Racing Auto: or, A Run for the Golden Cup

CHAPTER X

JOSIAH SOMES ON THE WARPATH

Dan Speedwell had gone back to Riverdale with his young friends in a much disturbed state of mind. That anybody should be mean enough to have tried to utterly ruin the racing car which he and Billy had bought of Maxey Solomons, not only angered Dan, but hurt him. Like his brother he suspected who the person was who had chopped down the derrick, and sent it crashing over the edge of the cliff to the bank of the river.

It was eleven o’clock when he reached home. He and Billy were usually astir before three each morning, and with the younger boy absent Dan would have all the milking and other chores to do by himself. He did not propose to arouse his father until about time to start with the milk wagons for Riverdale.

He put away his motorcycle, took his axe and a lantern, and started for the small woodlot that was a part of the Speedwell farm. That day, when cutting the two timbers that had now fallen over the cliff beside the river road, Dan had marked several other oak trees of practical use in this emergency.

“We’ll not go to school in the morning,” decided the older brother; “but we’ll rig another derrick and get that car out upon the road before more harm is done.”

Dan went along the county road to the bars and climbed over them into the few acres of timber Mr. Speedwell owned. He had been hunting ’coons and ’possums on many a night and was not afraid to fell a tree by lamp-light. He cut away some of the brush, chose the direction in which he wished the tree to fall, and set to work with the axe.

The reverberating blows rang through the wood, and the chips flew. Dan was not alone a sturdy youth; he was a good woodsman. In five minutes the tree fell with a crash that could have been heard afar. And as the echo of it died away our hero was aware of a swiftly approaching sound along the highroad. It was the throbbing of an automobile, and now a horn sounded:

“Honk! honk! honk!”

“Joy-riders,” muttered Dan, preparing to trim the tree. “Hello! they’re slowing down.”

The throbbing of the car ceased. The boy was near the edge of the wood and heard voices in a moment. Some of the occupants were getting out of the car.

“Hello in there!” shouted a voice. “What luck have you had, brother?”

“They think I’m hunting,” exclaimed Dan. “And I declare! I believe that is Mr. Armitage. It sounds just like his voice.”

Dan Speedwell picked up his lantern and walked toward the road. For a second time the jolly voice hailed him:

“Hello! Who’s there? Where’s the dogs?”

“I haven’t any dogs, and I’m not hunting,” explained Dan, coming out to the bars.

“Hullo!” rejoined the same voice. “Isn’t that young Speedwell?”

“I thought I recognized your voice, Mr. Armitage,” said Dan.

“And Mr. Briggs is here. This is the car you took a ride in Saturday night, young man,” and the gentleman laughed. “How are you? I hear Josiah Somes tried to mix you and Mr. Briggs’ car up with the robbery of the Farmers’ Bank.”

“He did indeed,” admitted Dan.

“I’m glad to see you again, boy,” said Mr. Briggs, likewise leaning out of the tonneau. “Some of our boys and hired men started out an hour ago after ’coons. Have you heard or seen anything of them?”

“No, sir. I reckon they went over toward the swamp. We only own a small piece of these woods, and the ’coons and ’possums have been driven all away to the swamp side.”

“There!” exclaimed Mr. Armitage, “I told you I was sure we were taking the wrong road, Briggs.”

“And we’ve got to go clear around by Meadville to find a road fit to drive this machine over!” exclaimed his friend.

“No, sir,” said Dan, quickly. “You can go into town and turn at Peckham’s Corner. There’s a good road going into the swamp which branches from the Port Luther turnpike.”

“I know it!” cried Mr. Armitage. “I remember now.”

“Sure you can find it, Tom?”

“We – ell – ”

“Do you know the way, Henri?” asked Mr. Briggs, of the Frenchman at the wheel.

“No, Monsieur,” replied Henri, quickly. “I am not what you call familiar with the ways.”

Dan could not help offering. Besides, his whole body tingled for another ride in the swift, easy-running car. And Henri might let him run the machine again!

“I can go with you, Mr. Armitage,” he said, quickly. “We can run around to the swamp in half an hour – at night. You won’t mind traveling fast. And the road back here passes within half a mile of our house, although there is no cross-road – not even a wood-team path. I can walk from the turnpike to our house in less than ten minutes.”

“Say, that’s kind of you, Speedwell,” said Mr. Briggs. “But it’s late. Your folks will expect you home.”

“They’re abed. I wasn’t really expecting to go to sleep to-night,” said Dan, laughing. “You see, we have to milk early, and Billy is away. I have his share of the work to do, too.”

“I am afraid we are imposing on you,” said Mr. Armitage.

“No, sir.”

“Perhaps the boy is itching to get in Henri’s place again,” laughed the owner of the maroon car.

“Yes, sir; that’s it,” admitted Dan, with a broad smile.

“Jump aboard, then,” said Mr. Briggs. “If Henri wants you to show him how to properly handle a six-cylinder Postlethwaite, why you may do so.”

The Frenchman’s little, waxed mustache shot up toward his eyebrows in a smile, and he slid over and allowed Dan to take the steering wheel of the motor car. The boy laid his axe on the footboard and turned down his lantern and put that in a secure place, too. Then, with a hand on the gear lever and another on the wheel, and his foot on the clutch pedal, he brought the beautiful car into motion as easily as Henri himself could have turned the trick.

“You are going to make one fine chauffeur,” whispered Henri, in Dan’s ear. “That was magnificent!”

There was nobody else on the road. They came down into Riverdale as swiftly – and almost as silently – as a cloud shadow chasing across a wheat-field. The town street lights were quickly in view. They came within sight of Peckham’s Corner, just above the Court House.

And there – right in the roadway – suddenly flashed a lantern. It gyrated curiously, as though the bearer of the lamp was dancing from side to side. And those in the car heard a raucous voice shouting.

“What’s the matter here?” demanded Mr. Briggs, as Dan began to reduce speed.

“Look out, Speedwell!” warned Mr. Armitage. “There’s a rope stretched across the road.”

“It’s right at Josiah Somes’ house,” exclaimed Dan.

“Is that fellow going to hold us up?” demanded Briggs.

“Josiah must be on the war-path,” chuckled Mr. Armitage. “He’s out holding up automobilists so as to fill the coffers of the local ’Squire and his own pockets.”

Dan was obliged to shut off power and brake hard. The heavy car barely stopped in season.

“Surrender!” yelled the voice of Mr. Somes. He bore the lantern in one hand, and a revolver of the largest size in the other, and he waved both of these indiscriminately.

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Mr. Briggs, wrathfully.

The constable evidently did not recognize the gentleman. He continued to paw the air and make threatening gestures with his weapon, as he shouted:

“Hold up your hands! Pile out of that car! I swear I got ye now, ye robbers, you! Move lively!”

“Say! who do you think you are speaking to?” demanded Mr. Armitage.

“You can’t fool me,” declared the constable wildly. “They jest telephoned me to stop ye. Ye robbed Colonel Sudds of jewelry and money this very night. But I know ye done more than that. You are the fellers that robbed the Farmers’ Bank on Saturday, and I’m goin’ t’ march ye t’ jail for it!”

CHAPTER XI

ON A HOT TRAIL

The first thought Dan Speedwell had was for Billy. Mr. Sudds’ residence was the nearest house to the spot where Maxey’s automobile had been overthrown, and where he had left Billy to watch over the wrecked auto for the night.

If Colonel Sudds had been robbed within a short time, did Billy know anything about it, and had he got into any trouble? Dan knew his impulsive brother so well, that he feared at once for his safety.

But Mr. Thomas Armitage, and Mr. Briggs burst into a shout of laughter.

“Oh, Josiah! you’re the only man who could possibly make the same mistake twice, hand-running. When

will

 you ever wake up?” demanded Mr. Armitage, when he could speak for laughter.

The constable’s face lengthened enormously and he put away the big pistol with much haste and chagrin.

“I – I don’t s’pose you know anything about the robbery of Mr. Sudds, gents,” he muttered. “But see here! ’Twarn’t half an hour ago they telephoned to me from Sudds’ house that they’d been robbed; then come another message saying to stop a maroon car; that the men in it had robbed Mr. Sudds, and was also suspected of being the bank robbers. I remembered that them robbers had a car like this – ”

“And

that

 fact ought to earn them a term in jail alone,” growled Mr. Briggs. “I have a good mind to send my car back to the factory and have it repainted.”

“Tell me!” interrupted Dan Speedwell, eagerly, “who telephoned you, Mr. Somes?”

“Man at Rebo’s Garage,” said the constable, shortly.

“Rebo’s! That’s at the Falls,” observed Mr. Armitage.

“Sure enough!” agreed Mr. Briggs. “What did they say about it?”

“Why – I was some flustered,” admitted Somes, doggedly. “Ye see, I was sound asleep when I heard from the Sudds’ of the robbery there.”

“When did this happen?” asked Dan, quickly.

“Not half an hour ago, I tell ye!” snapped the constable. “Ha! you’re Dan Speedwell, ain’t ye?”

“Yes.”

“Well, your brother’s mixed up in this thing, now I tell ye!”

“Oh, how?” cried Dan. “What do you mean?”

“Surely not in the robbery of Mr. Sudds’ house?” said Mr. Armitage.

“Wa’al, it’s mighty funny,” snapped Josiah. “As I tell ye, they telephoned me that two men had entered through a lower window, opened the library safe, and took jewelry and money – ten thousand dollars’ wuth. One of the men had been in the house early in the evening – so they thought. He was a stranger, and made out he had some business with the colonel.”

Mr. Sudds was a “colonel” by courtesy, having at one time served on the Governor’s staff.

“So I scrabbled on me clothes, meanin’ to start right down there to see about the robbers. My telephone rung agin, jest as I got to the door, and Mrs. Somes called me back. It was the man at Rebo’s.”

“In Upton Falls? Yes?” said Dan, eagerly.

“He says a maroon automobile had just stopped there for gasoline – ”

“Yes?” urged Dan.

“And he says,” pursued the constable, “that when the car started away, somebody dropped a piece of paper out of it. He says he believed somebody was hangin’ onto the back of the car, and throwed the paper so he’d see it. He ran and picked it up, read it, and then telephoned me. Of course, he knew I’d ’tend to it,” said Josiah, pompously.

“Yes, yes!” agreed Dan. “What did the paper say?”

“Why, as near as I can remember, it said: ‘Telephone authorities at Riverdale to stop maroon car, headed that way. Men in her have robbed Mr. Sudds and I think they are the ones who robbed Farmers’ Bank.’ And your brother’s name was signed to it. Now, Dan Speedwell, either it’s a hoax, or your brother is mixed up in these robberies,” declared the constable, with a tone of satisfaction that made Dan angry.

“Well, well, Josiah!” said Mr. Armitage. “You’d better let us by. If you are going to try to catch the real robbers’ automobile, you’ll want some help, won’t you?”

“Wait!” cried Dan, again, as the constable dropped the rope. “Tell me one thing.”

“Wal, what is it?” returned Josiah, grudgingly.

“How long ago did the man at Rebo’s ’phone you?”

“Jest now.”

“What does

that

 mean?” cried Dan. “Ten minutes ago, or more?”

“I jest got word, and ran out of the house, heard you comin’ and stopped ye.”

“Ten minutes it would be, then, Speedwell,” said Mr. Armitage. “What’s on your mind?”

“And did the man say the other car had just left the garage?”

“Yes he did,” drawled Josiah.

“I see!” cried Mr. Armitage. “If the maroon car is coming this way it has not yet reached Riverdale.”

“But it must be near,” urged Dan, anxiously. “Oh! I believe my brother is really with the robbers – perhaps as a prisoner. Can’t we head them off?”

“Does it seem reasonable that they would come back this way, having robbed Mr. Sudds within the hour?” queried Mr. Briggs.

“It would be a shrewd move,” said his friend.

“It’s a hot trail, I believe,” cried Dan.

“Run through the town, and onto the pike,” advised Mr. Armitage, “Perhaps we may meet with them.”

Dan shot the car ahead without further word. Everything else was forgotten by the lad but his anxiety to learn the truth about his brother’s connection with the other maroon automobile. Dan was deeply worried.

CHAPTER XII

A GREAT RUN

Instead of turning at Peckham’s Corner, as they had intended had the party kept on after the ’coon hunters, the swift automobile ran on into Riverdale. They passed the Court House and shot through the public square. The town was asleep and nobody challenged them.

A little beyond this was the brick structure in which county prisoners were kept, and the sheriff lived in a wing of the prison. Mr. Armitage touched Dan’s shoulder lightly and the boy slowed down.

“We’d better speak to Midge,” said the gentleman. “We can’t wait for him, but he had better know what’s afoot. If there’s a deputy here – ”

“Why didn’t Mr. Sudds telephone

here

, instead of to Constable Somes?” queried Mr. Briggs, as his friend got out of the automobile.

“It was Mrs. Sudds who telephoned. To the women-folk, Josiah is bigger than the president. That tin star he wears is what gets them.”

Mr. Armitage went up the steps of the sheriff’s house, chuckling. He rang the bell, and almost immediately the door opened. There was a light in the office; connected with the jail, and there was usually one or two deputies on watch in the office all night.

“Why, Polk you’re just the man for us,” said the hearty voice of Mr. Armitage. Then, in a low tone he explained what was afoot. The deputy, whose turn it was to be on duty at the Riverdale jail, spoke to his partner inside, got his hat, and came back with Armitage to the car.

“Evening, Mr. Briggs. Hello Dan!” he said. “I’ve been dead sore ever since those fellows escaped us on Saturday night. If there’s a chance of catching ’em, I want to be with you.”

“Hop in,” said Mr. Briggs. “If they are coming directly to town, we ought to meet them on the pike in a very few moments.”

Dan had already started the motor car again and they ran swiftly out of town. Passing the Darringford Machine Shops they could see the gaunt skeleton of the new office building being erected on the site of the old one that had been burned in the summer. As they shot into the straight pike, the road seemed deserted.

They came soon to the first cross-road – a lane which cut over the country and joined the Port Luther highway. Polk shouted to Dan to stop.

“What is it now?” demanded Mr. Briggs, quickly.

“Let me get out and see if a car has recently turned into this road from the direction of the Falls. It’s sandy here,” said the deputy.

Before he could put his suggestion into words Henri, the Frenchman, was out in the roadway in his stead. He carried Dan’s lantern with him, and turned the wick up so he might see.

“There is no marks of a tire, Monsieur,” said Henri, confidently. “The car has not turned this way – ”

“Hark!” exclaimed Dan.

The humming of a fast-driven machine in the distance suddenly came to their ears. It was approaching from the right direction – and its approach was speedy.

“Let me back into this road and wait till she passes,” suggested Dan. “We’ll put the lights out and they won’t see us as they go by.”

“Good!” exclaimed Polk. “Do it.”

The strange car came on like the wind. A bend in the pike had hidden it thus far; but suddenly the increased volume of sound proved that it had darted around this bend into the straight stretch of road leading to the Darringford Shops.

Then the flickering rays of their lamps came into view. The members of Dan’s party leaned forward, straining their eyes to catch the first glimpse of the car. Was it the mate to this one which Mr. Briggs owned?

And then, with surprising suddenness, the sound of the other car showed that its power was being reduced. Dan had stopped the engine of their auto, and Henri stooped in front of it, with his hand on the crank, ready to start the instant the other car was past.

Suddenly the Frenchman uttered a yell of fright. The lights of the strange car swerved, and in a breath it had dashed right into this lane where the silent car stood!

Had Dan not backed well into the side of the road, there would surely have been a collision. The lamps of the turning automobile revealed at the last moment the standing car, and the chauffeur of the other swerved well to the right hand.

Henri leaped aside, and the guard of the other auto just shaved him. The two vehicles escaped each other by a narrow margin. Only Mr. Armitage kept his head. He leaped up with a shout, and held the lantern which had been turned low again, so that its light fell upon the passing car.

It was painted maroon.

“There they go!” yelled Polk.

They saw the three men in the car – the small man at the wheel and the two in the tonneau.

One of these latter stood up, and something glittered in his hand. But no shot was fired.

But Dan Speedwell was seriously troubled.

Where was Billy?

For a moment the older boy forgot what he was doing, and he sprang to his feet, too.

“Billy!” he shouted, his voice sounding high and shrill above the sudden puffing of the car he was in. Henri had grabbed the crank at once and turned over the flywheel.

The fugitive car was already gathering speed again; but something white fluttered from the back of the racing automobile.

“I saw him, Dan!” cried Mr. Armitage. “He’s lying there in the slack of the canopy. I don’t believe the scoundrels know they are being spied upon.”

“Turn around, boy, and get after them!” cried Polk. “We’ll rescue him!”

It was not yet one o’clock. The leading machine had raced to Upton Falls and back again. Without much doubt, it was now headed across the county, aiming for the same section in which it had escaped pursuit on Saturday night.

But as Dan Speedwell felt the car he drove throb and shake under his manipulation, and realized that it responded to his will and touch, he could not but believe that his was the better one.

On and on the cars tore along the road. The red spark of light ahead seemed to draw nearer. Dan knew that he was gaining upon the other machine.

Suddenly the spark of light ahead vanished. Dan did not reduce his speed, but he wondered for a moment if the rascals, becoming wary of pursuit, had put out all their lights again.

They could observe the lamps on Mr. Briggs’ car and Dan dared not run dark in this narrow road. One collision they had escaped by a hand’s breadth; he was not likely to risk another right away.

But before he could comment upon the disappearance of the rear light of the fugitive automobile, Polk cried from the tonneau:

“There she goes around the corner. They’ve struck the Port Luther turnpike.”

“And turned toward the coast?” demanded Mr. Armitage.

“Don’t know. Too far away for us to be sure whether she turned right or left,” said the deputy.

“Slow down when you get there, then, Dan,” said the proprietor of the motor car, understanding what Mr. Armitage wanted. “There must be some mark of her tires in the earth. The Port Luther road is not macadamized.”

But Dan did not reduce speed yet. He could see the roadway very plainly in the strong radiance of the car’s lights. If the tires of the machine they were chasing made as plain a trail at the corner as they did in certain soft spots in this lane, there would be no need for them to reduce speed, save to make the turn in safety.

Henri saw this, too. He shrugged his shoulders and held up a warning hand as Mr. Armitage leaned forward to shout in Dan’s ear.

“Wait!” cried the Frenchman, eagerly.

They were at the corner. The glare of the lights revealed a wide patch of the road. The wheel-marks of the fugitive car had swerved to the right hand. The robbers were racing on to the north – were, in fact, running around Riverdale, and away from the coast.

But, as Dan brought Mr. Briggs’ car out of the lane, and shot her into the broader highway, he looked ahead in vain for the tail-light of the other maroon automobile. He knew that the pike here was straight for five miles; there wasn’t a light upon it!

This was the road Dan had first agreed to drive his party to, had they taken the turn at Peckham’s. But they were several miles below Peckham’s road. The fugitive car could not have turned into this last highway, for it could not, running at top speed, have covered five miles, even, before the pursuing auto took the turn into the pike.

“Running without lights,” was Dan Speedwell’s quick decision. “And why can we not do the same on this broad road? At least, those fellows cannot so easily gage our speed,” and he suggested the idea to Henri. The Frenchman spoke to his employer and then shut off the lights in front. The tail lamp they allowed to show, to warn any vehicle behind – although so far they had discovered no car on any of these roads, save the machine run by the bank robbers.

They skimmed along this wider way at fast speed. Indeed, Dan believed that he had never traveled so fast before save on the racetrack with his Flying Feather motorcycle.

Dan felt that before them, flashing in and out of the shadows as they, too, were, was another car, running likewise without lights and at top speed. The noise of their own machine drowned all other sounds. Suppose he should bring this great vehicle crashing into the rear of that other flying car?

With Billy in the back! The thought shook Dan Speedwell. For an instant he was tempted to pull down – to reduce speed – to take no further risk in this wild chase.

But then, the thought that Billy might need him – that the robbers might have already discovered that they carried a spy with them – urged the brother to cling to the trail like a hound on the scent