Dick Hamilton bent over the disabled steering gear of the car that was slewed across the roadway. As he did so he gave a start that was noticed by Paul, who was directly back of him.
"What is it?" asked his chum.
"Nothing—er that is—I should say itwasa smash!" finished the young millionaire in louder tones, speaking to the lame man. "It looks as if something hit it."
"Something did hit it," went on the other autoist, limping up. "I ran over a piece of iron lying in the road. My wheel kicked it up, and the first thing I knew one end had hit the steering knuckle.
"It cracked as though I had struck it with the hammer, and I found myself shooting across the road. I brought up standing, with both brakes set, and I jumped out in such a hurry that I gave my ankle a twist. It hurts like the mischief, too! I was trying to see if I could patch up the steering gear in any way, when you came along. I didn't want to block up the highway any longer than I had to. But if you'll give me a hand I think we can push the car out of the way."
With the boys and the lame man pushing at the disabled auto it was soon rolled to one side, allowing a free passage, which a few minutes later was taken advantage of by several cars. The occupants looked curiously at the broken machine, but, seeing that the unfortunate autoist had assistance, they did not stop.
"Well, that's done!" exclaimed Dick, as he and the others rested from their labors. "Can we do anything else for you, Mr.—er—?" and he paused suggestively.
"Brockhurst is my name," said the man, quickly. "Samuel Brockhurst. I'm from Buffalo, and I was out on a little run when this accident happened. It comes just at a wrong time, too. I had an appointment with a man in Hazelton," naming a town about twenty-five miles away, "and now I can't keep it in time, I'm afraid. I can't get back to the city in time to catch a train, and there's no garage around here where I can hire a car. I do seem to have the worst luck!
"But there's no use in burdening you with my troubles," he added, with a frank smile. "I'm very thankful to you for what you've done for me. If you wouldn't mind stopping at the first garage you come to, and telling them to send out for this machine, I'll be obliged to you."
"Of course we will," said Dick, quickly; "but can't we give you a lift on your way? We're going close to Hazelton, and if it will be anyaccommodation to you we can just as well make that town."
"Oh, no, I wouldn't think of troubling you. I've delayed you enough at it is. I might go on to the garage with you, if you don't mind, and then I could tell the man just what the trouble is. He might even have a car I can hire, though, as I remember it, the nearest garage is a small, one-horse sort of a place. Still, they can mend the steering knuckle I should think."
"Come on then," urged Dick. "We'll take you as far as there, and if you can't hire a car you're welcome to ride to Hazelton with us."
"Oh, Mr.——"
"Hamilton—Dick Hamilton," supplied our hero.
"I couldn't think of it, Mr. Hamilton. I wouldn't put you to that trouble for the world."
"It's no trouble," Dick assured him. "I believe in being helpful whenever I can. I might be in the same boat myself some day."
"It doesn't look as though your car would ever break down," said the lame man. "It certainly is a beauty. What make is that?"
"It was built to order," said Dick, "and I got it in a deal when the owner couldn't take it. It just suits me."
"I should think it would suit anyone. It's a peach! Are you going far?"
"To San Francisco!"
"You don't tell me! Thatisa tour, all right.My car looks small alongside yours, though my machine is considered a pretty good one."
It was a good one, Dick and his chums could see, and the small break could easily be repaired. After making sure that the disabled car was well out of the way of traffic, and leaving a written notice on it to show to whom it belonged, Dick, his chums, and Mr. Brockhurst entered theLast Word, with the first named at the wheel, and once more they were under way.
Mr. Brockhurst proved an agreeable companion. He had traveled much, and could talk well of the places he had visited, telling a number of funny stories that kept the cadets laughing.
On reaching the garage the man in charge, promised to send out and get the car.
"But as for renting you one, I can't do it," he said to Mr. Brockhurst. "There isn't a one in the place, except Colonel Carter's, and he'd have my head off if I loaned that, though he only drives it about once a week."
"I wonder if I couldn't see him and make some deal with him?" asked the lame man. "It's important that I get to Hazelton this morning."
"Say!" interrupted Dick. "What's the use of going to all that bother. I'll be glad to run you down. It's only ten miles out of our way, and we are ahead of our schedule. Anyhow, a day or so doesn't matter to us. Come on, Mr. Brockhurst."
"Oh, I don't want to put you out——"
"It will be a pleasure to have you," said Dick, and he meant it. His chums, too, were glad of the man's company.
"And I'll show you how the electric stove works," went on Dick, for the lame man had been much interested in the fittings of the big car.
"All right—if you insist!" and he laughed in an engaging manner. He left orders about his car, and was soon in the big machine with Dick and his chums, who resumed their journey.
They had purchased some supplies in the village where the garage was situated, and, reaching a secluded place on the road, they began the preparation of a meal on the electric stove.
"Now I insist on you letting me help," said Mr. Brockhurst. "I'm a sort of old bachelor myself, and used to cooking. Shall I bring up a scuttle of coal, or a pail of water?"
"We don't need coal," said Dick, "though we might have some water. That looks like a spring over there."
"I'm the water-boy!" cried the lame man, as, with all the exuberance of youth, he limped off with a collapsible rubber pail toward the spring.
"Well, you boys certainly know how to live! This is great!"
Thus exclaimed Mr. Brockhurst as he sat in the shade of a big tree on the edge of the country road, eating lunch with Dick and his chums. It had been cooked in the little "kitchen" of the auto, but as it was rather warm they had elected to eat out in the open air, and a board, laid across two stumps, served excellently as a table. Paul, whose turn it was to cook, also acted as waiter.
"This isn't half bad," admitted Innis, reaching for some more chicken sandwiches and olives.
"You'd have to go a good way to find anything better, in my opinion," spoke the lame man. "I never realized before what chances there were in a big touring car. It's better than traveling by train, for you can stop and start when you like. And with the outfit you have here you're independent of almost anything—even the weather."
"Yes, we can close ourselves up in the car," said Dick, "and rain or snow, up to a certain limit, won't bother us."
"I wish I was going all the way with you,"went on the lame man. "But I've got my business to attend to. If this deal in Hazelton goes through I may be able to have a car like yours. It certainly is a dandy!"
"Perhaps we are delaying here too long," suggested Dick.
"No, I've got considerable lee-way yet," said Mr. Brockhurst. "I can meet my man in time, and this lunch is too good to miss. By the way, there's a fine view to be had from the hill over there. Suppose we stroll over and take it in. It won't take long, and it's well worth seeing."
"As long as we'll be in time for your appointment, all right," assented Dick. "Our time is our own."
"Don't worry about me. Come along," and, lunch being over, Mr. Brockhurst led the way along a path that went up a rather steep hill.
"Do you live around here?" asked Paul, wondering how the lame man knew of the view so far out from Buffalo.
"No, not exactly. I used to, when I was a boy, but the city is my home now. I don't often get out into the country, and when I do I like to take advantage of it."
"That's the idea," said Dick.
They walked on, chatting about various subjects. Dick had taken a certain electric switch out of his car, without which it was impossible to start it, so he had no worries about leaving the auto in the roadway unprotected.
"Are we walking too fast for you?" inquired Dick, and his two chums, who happened to be looking at him, thought the young millionaire regarded their visitor with a rather strange glance.
"Oh, no, I can keep up this pace," he said, though he seemed to be walking more and more slowly. "I did give my ankle a bad twist," he went on, "and I'll have it looked to as soon as we get to Hazelton. It isn't much farther to the top of the hill now."
They had gone only a few steps more, when, with an exclamation of pain, Mr. Brockhurst came to a halt. His face was screwed up in an expression of anxiety.
"I'm afraid I'd better not go on any further," he said, sitting down on a grassy place. "I don't want to strain my foot too much. I'll wait for you here. Go on and get a look at that view. You wouldn't want to miss it. Lots of people go miles out of their way for it. I'll just sit here and rest."
"Are you sure you'll be all right?" asked Dick.
"Oh, sure. Go ahead. Don't mind me. I'll wait until you come back. And there's a good spring on that hill. It's supposed to have some medicinal virtue. I don't take much stock in that, but I know it's good and cold, for I used to drink there when I was a boy."
"I'm going to have some," asserted Paul. "I'm as dry as codfish."
Though the boys somewhat regretted nothaving Mr. Brockhurst to accompany them, the thought of a cool drink at the summit of the hill hurried them on, for the day was warm.
They looked back to see the lame man still sitting on the grass plot, gazing up at them. He waved his hand in a friendly fashion.
"Say, this is some view!" exclaimed Paul, as they reached the summit.
"I should say yes!" assented Dick. "I'm glad we came up."
Down before them, rolling in a series of gentle slopes, was a vast extent of country. There was a great plain, and, in the distance, mountains arising, blue and purple in the haze of the summer day.
"It's magnificent!" murmured Innis. "It makes a fellow feel—well, like poetry," he finished for want of something better to say.
"It makes me more thirsty to see that water," added Paul, pointing to a little stream, that, like a silver ribbon, made its tortuous way through a distant green meadow.
"Let's look for that spring," suggested Dick, after a few minutes of gazing at the view, which was really superb.
But the spring was not as easy to find as they had supposed. They finally located a small brook, and, tracing it back some distance, they came upon the spring. It justified all that Mr. Brockhurst had said of it, and the boys drank long and deep.
"It's got a queer taste," said Dick.
"That's the medicinal virtues of it, I guess," laughed Innis.
"Well, it's all right when you're thirsty," assented Paul, "for it's good and cold, but I'd have to get used to it before I'd want it steady. Well, shall we go back?"
"Might as well," said Dick, looking at his watch. "We've been here half an hour. Mr. Brockhurst will be getting tired."
They started down the slope, and, when they got to a point where they should have seen the lame man he was not there.
"He's gone!" cried Innis.
"Probably got tired of waiting, and went back to the auto," spoke Dick. "He'll be waiting for us."
But his chums thought they detected a strange note in his voice.
The three hurried on, and when the auto came in sight they peered eagerly toward it for a sight of their visitor.
"Maybe he's inside," said Paul, when they could not see him.
"Maybe," said Dick—rather grimly.
They reached the car. The side door was open, but there was no sign of the lame man.
"He's gone!" gasped Paul.
"I thought that was his game," said the young millionaire, quietly.
Dick's chums looked at him for a moment without speaking. He was quite cool while they were much excited.
"What's that you said?" asked Paul, thinking perhaps he had not heard aright.
"You expected him to skip out; did you?" asked Innis.
"I did," replied Dick, calmly. "That is, after he sent us on to see the view alone. I thought maybe he might wait until we got nearer to Hazelton, but he evidently got what he wanted—a good chance—and took advantage of it."
"Yes, and maybe he took something else, too!" cried Paul. "Have you looked for your papers, Dick?" and he peered into the car.
"That's so—those legal papers!" added Innis. "He was one of your uncle's agents, Dick!"
"Don't worry," said the young millionaire with a quizzical smile. "I have the papers safe," and he pulled an envelope from his pocket. "I've been carrying them there ever since I saw that broken steering knuckle," he went on.
"What in the world had the broken steering knuckle to do with it?" asked Paul.
"Because it had been deliberately smashed with a hammer, to knock his car out of commission," went on Dick. "He wanted a breakdown, and he made it to order. He knew we were coming along and would give him a lift, and he counted on getting possession of what he wanted. So I've been suspicious of him ever since. I thought it safer to carry the papers with me, and I guess I did right. Innis, just see if our road map isn't missing again."
The cadet put his hand in the flap pocket where the map was kept. His fingers came out empty.
"Cæsar's pineapples!" he cried. "It's gone, Dick!"
"Yes, and I expect Mr. Brockhurst, or whatever his name happens to be, is bemoaning his poor luck. Score another miss for Uncle Ezra."
"Be careful, though, Dick," warned Paul. "Three times and out, you know."
"That's right, old man. I've got to be careful. We'll have to adopt some new system of hiding it, I guess."
"But say, Dick, how did you get onto that fellow's curves?" inquired Innis. "You didn't tip us off."
"No, I wanted to see just how far he would go, and I didn't want him to get suspicious. I knew I had the game in my own hands as long as I held the papers. You see it was this way:
"When I first saw his stalled car I didn't think anything but that he was a fellow motorist inhard luck. But when he told that yarn about a piece of iron in the road flying up and cracking the steering knuckle I knew he wasn't telling the truth. No piece of iron could fly up with sufficient force to do that. Besides, the dent of the blow was inside, where no flying missile, unless it could turn a corner, could hit. So I deduced that a hammer had been used."
"Regular detective," laughed Paul.
"I should say so," agreed Innis.
"Well," went on Dick, "then I noticed his limp. He had a no more sprained ankle than I had."
"If he wasn't lame, he was a good actor," declared Innis.
"That's it—he really was lame!" exclaimed Dick, quickly. "It wasn't put on at all, and I knew then that he was permanently disabled, and that it wasn't from the jar of suddenly leaping out of a car."
"How could you tell that?" asked Paul.
"By his shoes. You know how a shoe will get full of wrinkles if it's walked in in a certain way for any length of time. A lame person's shoe will get wrinkles in it that no other person's would. It was that way with this man. When he limped I could see certain wrinkles on the side of his shoe, and the wrinkles had been there for some time, showing he had been lame longer than since to-day."
"Good boy!" cried Paul.
"Then I was sure I had him," resumed Dick, "and it was only a question of time when he would make a break."
"And he was playing all that time to get possession of those papers?" asked Innis.
"That's what," answered Dick, "only he got the wrong bunch. I guess I'll have to charge my road maps up to Uncle Ezra if this keeps up."
"But how did he know you were coming along the road where he disabled his car?" asked Innis. "And how could he figure out that you'd give him a lift?"
"I don't know," replied the young man, frankly. "But it might be easy enough to lay such a trap for us. You see my uncle knows our route almost as well as we do ourselves. He could tip off some unscrupulous man, and he could be on the watch for us. Our arrival in Buffalo would soon become known, for, as I've said before, this car is rather conspicuous. Then it was easy enough to figure which road we'd leave by. All that was necessary was to be in waiting, and the little trick of the disabled car did the rest."
"Only you were too sharp for him," put in Paul.
"I was lucky," was the way Dick put it. "You see he wanted to get us away from the car, and that talk about the view and the spring did it. Then he pretended he was tired out, and, as soonas we were out of sight, he hiked back to my auto, and rummaged it."
"I hope he didn't take any of our grub!" exclaimed Innis. "I have what the English call a 'rare old twist on,' I'm hungry, in other words."
"It was papers—not food—he was after," said Dick.
"But when you knew his game, and suspected what he was up to, weren't you afraid to let him go to your car, and you remain at the spring?" asked Paul.
"No, for I felt sure he wouldn't do any damage. I knew he couldn't start it, and I had the documents. Those were the only two things to worry about."
"I see!" exclaimed Innis. "Well, what's to be done next? I mean after eating," he added quickly.
"We'll have to think up a plan," remarked Dick. "I guess, too, we might change our route a bit. If Uncle Ezra's men are going to make trouble for us, let's put as many hurdles in their way as we can."
"That's what I say," agreed Paul.
They discussed this matter at length as they prepared a simple meal. Before they could decide on a change of route, however, they would need a new road map, and this Dick said he would get in the next town.
Soon they were under way again, there beingno signs of Mr. Brockhurst in the neighborhood. He had probably made the best time to get out of sight; then he could take matters more leisurely.
"Though when he sees nothing but a road map in that envelope, marked 'legal papers,' he'll have a 'rare old fit,' as perhaps some of your English friends would say, Innis," and Paul smiled at his chum.
"Did you mark that road map envelope 'legal papers'?" asked Paul.
"Sure I did. I wanted to fool them. And the papers are marked 'road map,'" said Dick. "I just changed envelopes, see!"
"Then I've just thought of the best way to fool any more men your Uncle Ezra may set after us!" exclaimed Paul. "Listen, Dick. You remember that story of Edgar Allan Poe's—'The Purloined Letter'; don't you?"
"I think so—yes."
"What was it?" inquired Innis, who was not much of a reader.
"Why, Poe tells of some one who had a certain important letter which the police were after. This man was foxy, and knowing the police would search his rooms for it, he didn't hide it in any out-of-the-way place, such as the leg of a bed, or in a secret recess in the wall, for he knew the police would search there."
"Did they?" asked Innis.
"They did. But they didn't find the letter. It was right in plain sight, all the while, though."
"In plain sight?"
"Sure. This man just took an old crumpled envelope, that didn't look good enough to hold a receipted gas bill, and stuck this important letter in it. Then he jabbed it into a card rack, where everyone could see it. The police never suspected for a moment that their man would do such a simple thing, and they passed over this old envelope a dozen times. You see they were looking in the hard places, while, all the while, it was in the easiest place."
"Well, what's the answer?" asked Innis, as Paul came to a stopping place.
"Why can't Dick do the same thing?" asked his chum.
"How do you mean?" that young man wanted to know.
"Why, just get an old advertising envelope, put your papers in that, and jab it up back of that looking glass," and Paul indicated a mirror on a side of the car. "Let part of the envelope stick out, Dick, and if those men search until doomsday they'll never find it."
"I believe you're right!" Dick cried. "I'll do it."
"It will be safer than carrying the papers in your pocket," went on Paul, "for there's no telling when you may be held up, and searched. Your uncle might hire some one to pose as a road agent just to get a chance to go through your clothes."
"That's right," agreed Innis.
"But they'll never think of taking an old advertisement envelope, that looks as though it was just stuck away behind the mirror and forgotten," went on Paul.
"You're right—we'll fool 'em!" cried Dick, and at the next stopping place this simple trick was carried out.
"You'd never suspect it was there; would you?"
"Not at first glance."
"And unless we meet with some one who was as clever as the amateur detective that Poe tells about, who looked in the simplest place for the letter instead of in the hardest, we'll be safe," said Paul.
The three chums had just finished carrying out their little plan. Back of the mirror there stuck, half-way out, an envelope bearing in large type the name of an auto firm. It was obviously an envelope meant to contain a circular, but into it Dick had slipped the important papers.
"We'll leave,'em there until we go to sleep in some hotel," he explained, "and then I'll hide them somewhere in the room. But I'm not going to carry them about with me."
"You couldn't come to a wiser decision," declared Paul. "Did you get a new road map?"
"Yes, and a better one than our lame friend took. I'll have a joke with Uncle Ezra when I see him again. I'll send him a bill for two maps, and he'll wonder what's up."
"I don't want to say mean things about your relatives, Dick," began Innis, "but——"
"Go as far as you like!" interrupted the young millionaire. "You can't hurt my feelings by saying anything about Uncle Ezra. What is it?"
"Well, I was just going to remark that he had an awful lot of nerve to try to stop you from saving this Wardell's fortune. Don't you think so yourself?"
"I do, Innis. But you must remember that my uncle is a peculiar man. Money is more to him than anything else. He hates to see it 'wasted,' as he calls it, though I believe in enjoying the good things that money can buy—to a limited extent, of course. But, no doubt, Uncle Ezra feels that he is doing right, that he is well within the law, and that he has a claim on this man's fortune, though I think he got it away from him by unfair means. Or, rather, he is going to try to get it away from him. But he won't if I can stop him."
"That's the way to talk, Dick! But how can your uncle think it is right to send men to search your auto for papers?"
"I suppose because my uncle thinks he has a right to the papers."
"Maybe so," agreed Paul. "But say, if we're going to reach Plattsville by night, we'd better get a move on."
They had come to a halt a little way out of the town, not far from Buffalo, where they hadbought a new road map, and secured the envelope into which the legal papers were slipped. They had abandoned the plan of going to Hazelton, when they found out the trick that had been played on them, and were now counting on making Plattsville in time to stay just outside it over night. They did not travel after dark, unless it was to reach some predetermined point of their journey, and on this occasion, as there was no good hotel in Plattsville, they had voted to sleep in the big auto.
Once more they started off, Paul driving, while Dick and Innis overhauled the stores in the "kitchen," in preparation for getting a meal in case they did not find a good restaurant in the next town.
"The beauty of this way of traveling," said Innis, "is that you can do as you please. If you want a course dinner you can get it—if not in one town, then in another. Or if you want simple grub, it's here ready for us."
"That's right," agreed Paul. "It was mighty white of Dick to ask us along."
"I'm sure I was only too glad to have you," said the latter. "I wouldn't have gone alone for a farm; would we, Grit?" and the bulldog barked his answer.
"I guess you're hungry," went on Dick. "Innis, open some of that canned chicken."
"What! Are you going to eat so near supper time?"
"I am not. It's for Grit."
"Shades of Uncle Ezra! What would he say if he were here? Canned chicken for a dog! Oh, the sinful waste!"
"That's just what Uncle Ezra would say if hewerehere," laughed Dick. "And I half wish he was, so I could tell him what I think of him.
"But there! It's best to keep peace in the family if you can. Uncle Ezra is trying to ruin a young man, financially, and I'm trying to save him. It may come out even in the end, and that will be all right. There you are, Grit!" And the bulldog barked in delight as Dick gave him a generous helping of canned chicken.
"That makes me hungry," called Paul, from the steering seat.
"We'll soon be at Plattsville," answered Dick. "Say, you are hitting up the pace, all right!" he exclaimed, as the big car swung around a curve and careened down the straight road.
"This is a good place to make time," answered Paul.
"Don't get caught in one of those speed traps the old constable was telling us about," warned Innis. "I don't want to waste good money on some justice of the peace."
"I'll be careful," promised Paul, and he slowed down a bit.
They found a good restaurant in Plattsville, and so decided they would not get their own supper, as they were rather weary with the day'sjourney. The big auto was left outside, and to keep the curious crowd that gathered from going inside it, Dick locked the doors. The legal papers were left in plain sight, and while perhaps an older person might not have taken that risk, the boys thought they were doing the best thing.
Grit was allowed to roam about while the travelers were eating, and later, after Dick and his chums had gone up the street a little way, to buy some things they needed, they missed the dog.
"Why, where is Grit?" asked Dick, as they got in the auto again, to drive to the outskirts of the town, where they decided to "camp" for the night.
"I haven't noticed him since coming from the restaurant," said Paul. "I took it for granted that he was following us."
"So did I," said Innis.
Dick leaped from his seat and went back. There was no sign of his pet, and the waiters said the bulldog had gone out after them.
Dick looked up and down the street. Not far from the restaurant was a stable, setting back some distance, and reached by an alley.
"Maybe he's in there," suggested Paul. "It may remind him of the barracks at Kentfield Academy."
"Maybe," assented Dick. "I'll take a look."
As he neared the stable he heard the muffledbarking of a dog. A burly man sauntered out of a shed and demanded:
"Whatcher want here?"
"Have you seen anything of a bulldog?" asked Dick.
"Naw."
"That sounds like my dog barking."
"Aw, that's me own pup. He's allers barking."
Something in the man's manner made Dick suspicious.
"Would you mind letting me see him?" he asked, quietly. "Perhaps my dog got in there by—er—mistake."
"Naw, he ain't there. An' dis is private property—see? You'd better vamoose!"
"I think I'll take a look just the same," insisted Dick. He glanced about and saw that Paul and Innis were coming into the alley. "Reinforcements," thought Dick.
"Did you locate him?" called Paul.
"I think so."
The surly man came forward.
"Hi, Bill!" he called to some one in the shed he had left. "Here's a couple of fresh guys that need lookin' after."
"Oh, we can look after ourselves; thank you," said Dick. Then, raising his voice, he called sharply:
"Here, Grit! Hi, old man!"
A perfect chorus of barks answered him. Theyoung millionaire sprang toward the stable, but before he could reach the door there was the sound of a rattling chain, that seemed to snap. Then came a choking gurgle, and the next moment the door burst open and Grit, leaping and bounding, rushed out.
"Grit!" called Dick.
The dog barked an answer, and then, trailing the broken chain after him, made a rush at the surly man.
"Look out!" called Paul. "If he gets hold of you——"
The man did not stop to hear the rest of the warning. With a leap he made for the shed he had left, pushing his companion before him, and slamming the door shut in time to cause Grit to bound fiercely up against it.
"He's a lucky chap," murmured Innis, while the dog leaped and bounded about the closed portal, barking with rage.
"Here, Grit!" called Dick.
His pet, after a moment of hesitation, and a longing look at the shut door, came to him limping.
"The brutes!" exclaimed Dick, as he saw where his dog had been kicked. "I've a notion to have them arrested."
"It will only make a lot of trouble, and delay us, to testify against them," said Paul. "Let's get out of here."
"I guess that's best," assented Dick. "Theytried to keep my dog, though. But you were too much for 'em; eh, Grit?"
The bulldog nearly turned himself inside out trying to wag his short tail, and fawned about his master and the latter's chums.
A crowd had collected at the alley entrance, and through it the boys pushed their way, the assemblage giving respectful room to Grit, who was in no gentle humor. It was plain that the stablemen, seeing a valuable dog, had enticed Grit into the barn—no hard task, since he was fond of horses—and had tried to prevent Dick from recovering his pet.
But all's well that ends well, and soon the trio, with Grit on the seat of honor in front, were speeding to the outskirts of the town, where the auto was drawn to one side of the road, and preparations made to spend the night.
They were off early the next morning. Cleveland was their next big city, and in accordance with Dick's plan they changed their route slightly, taking seldom-traveled roads to throw off any spies whom Uncle Ezra might send after them.
Shortly before noon something occurred which nearly put an end to their journey. They had come through a bad stretch of roads and had ascended a steep hill, at the other side of which, according to a local guide, began a good highway.
"Then we can make some speed!" exclaimed Dick. "We've been crawling all morning."
He was at the wheel, and as he started to descend the slope he looked to see that the brake levers were clear. There were three on the big car—the ordinary foot-pedal brake, a hand one for hard stops, and an emergency that locked all four wheels.
TheLast Wordstarted down the slope, and half way to the bottom something snapped.
"What's that?" cried Innis.
"One of the brakes, I'm afraid," answered Dick.
The car gathered speed. The young millionaire had shut off all power and was coasting. Now he reached for the emergency brake, but the handle was loose in his hand.
The hill was steep—the car heavy, and it was acquiring speed. The foot and ordinary hand brake were powerless to check it.
"We're running down hill!" cried Innis.
"That's what we are," agreed Dick, grimly.
As they flashed past a house a man rushed out.
"Look out for that bridge!" he cried, pointing to the foot of the slope. "It's weakened by a flood. You'll never get over it if you hit it that fast!"
His words died away as the car rushed on down hill, Dick vainly trying to check its speed by the two brakes still in commission.
"Can't you hold her, Dick?"
"Is there anything we can do?"
Paul and Innis shouted their questions at their chum, as he sat at the wheel, guiding the ponderous car on its perilous way. Every stone that could be avoided Dick steered away from, yet to make too much of a swerve, he knew, would be disastrous.
"I'm afraid—it's getting—away from me," he called through his clenched teeth. "The emergency brake is broken, and the others don't seem to hold."
"Can't you put on the reverse?" asked Innis.
"It would only strip the gears. I guess we've got to chance it, boys!"
A man ran out at the foot of the hill, dancing up and down near the approach to the bridge, and waving a red handkerchief.
"Are you going to try the bridge?" shouted Paul.
"I don't see how I can help it," replied Dick. "If I turn into the ditch we'll sure upset."
"Maybe the bridge is stronger than they think," suggested Innis. "It looks all right."
"That's the way with those country bridges," said Paul, bitterly. "They never keep 'em in repair, and even a heavy truck may go through. It's a shame!"
"Well, get ready for something, fellows!" said Dick, grimly. "Do you want to jump?"
"I guess it's the only thing to do," declared Paul. "There's grass on both sides of the road, and we can't be much hurt. You go first, Dick."
"No, you fellows try it. I've got to hold this wheel. The minute I let go this auto is going to be like a wild horse, trying to climb the first tree in sight. Jump, while I hold her steady. Then I'll take my chance."
"I'll steer for you," offered Innis, gallantly.
"No, let me!" insisted Paul.
"I tell you I'll stick to my machine until she smashes!" cried Dick, sharply. "You fellows jump while you've got the chance. I'll try and hold her until she gets to the bridge, and then I may be able to land in the water. Go ahead."
"It's a shame!" cried Paul. "To see this dandy car go to smash."
"It can't be helped," replied Dick, sadly.
Paul opened the door on one side, and Innis on the other. They got in good positions to make their leap. The man on the bridge was still waving his signal of danger, uselessly it seemed, for the big car was headed straight for the structure.
Dick gave a sharp glance ahead, andtightened his grip on the steering wheel. Then he called out, hoarsely:
"Wait a minute, fellows! Hold on! Don't jump yet! Maybe there's a way out yet!"
"How?" yelled Paul.
"See! There's a ford at one side of the bridge!" and Dick nodded his head toward a place where the road over the structure branched off, dividing; one side going down a slope into the stream of water, and up again on the other side, to join the highway past the bridge. This path was used by those who wished to water their horses, or swell their dried wagon-wheels. It was also a ford in case the bridge was out of commission for heavy loads, as at present.
"What's your game?" cried Innis.
"I'm going to try to send the auto down that ford-road," replied the young millionaire. "It's soft and sandy. If I can make the change the soft dirt may clog the wheels enough, and slacken our speed, so that we can get over the creek safely. It's worth trying—in fact, it's the only thing we can do. Hold on!"
Nearer and nearer to the bridge thundered the big car. The man with the red handkerchief had leaped out of the way now, fearing the collapse of the structure. But Dick did not intend to trust himself to the weakened beams and king-braces.
Narrowly watching the road where it forked into the ford, or crossing, Dick swerved the steering wheel ever so little at a time. A suddenchange in the course, he knew, would mean an overturned auto, and possibly serious injury to all of them.
"That's it! That's the way to do it!" cried the man who had waved a warning. "The water isn't very deep!"
"I hope not," murmured Dick. "Hold hard, boys!"
With tense face he watched the path before him. His hands were gripped on the steering wheel so hard that it seemed as though he had no fingers at all—as if they were all in one. The car thundered on. It vibrated and trembled. The brakes that had been set—exclusive of the broken one—were bringing forth a shrill protest from the axle bands.
"I—I guess you'll make it, Dick!" shouted Paul.
"It won't be from lack of trying, anyhow," agreed Innis.
Though he and Paul had come partly back into the car they were still ready to leap in case Dick's plan miscarried. But it seemed likely to succeed.
There was a sudden twist to the steering wheel, and theLast Wordswerved dangerously. Paul and Innis clutched the sides. Then they saw that the auto was on the short slope that led down to the water. Dick had made the diversion in safety—so far. What would happen when he struck the stream, with its uneven bed, was a matter of conjecture.
But the deep sand of the slope leading down to the water was already having its effect. No better brake could have been devised than that clinging material.
"She's slacking up!" cried Paul.
"We're all right!" added Innis.
Into the water splashed the big touring car. A shower of spray shot up on either side. The machine was slackening speed. Dick was beginning to relax his grip on the steering wheel, and his chums breathed easier.
Then, with a jolt that threw them all forward in a heap, the auto seemed to strike some obstruction in the bed of the creek.
It careened to one side, so that they feared it was about to topple over. Then it righted itself, surged forward, and came to a groaning stop in the middle of the water, stuck fast in the cloying mud that formed the bed of the creek.
"Safe!" exclaimed Paul.
"Not a bone broken!" added Innis.
"But we're marooned!" murmured Dick, gloomily. "It will take ten horses to pull us out of this mudhole. Hang the luck!"
After their exciting ride down hill—a ride that might have ended disastrously but for Dick's good judgment and prompt action—the three chums were content to sit still in the stalled auto for a few moments. They were about in the middle of a small stream, that flowed under the partly wrecked bridge, and the water came up nearly to the tops of the big-tired wheels.
This did not represent its real depth, however, as the weight of the car had caused it to sink down in the soft mud, which served to hold it fast. Paul, Dick and Innis looked about them.
"Well, this is the limit!" grumbled the young millionaire.
"It sure is," assented Paul.
"What'd you want to come down hill so fast for?" asked the man with the red flag.
"We didn't mean to," said Dick. "One of the brakes went out of commission, and I couldn't hold the car with the other two, though they're supposed to be able to. Must be something wrong with 'em. I'm going to have 'em looked at when we get out of here."
"If we ever do," suggested Innis. "We sure are stuck fast."
"That's awful sticky mud," volunteered the flagman. "Didn't Bill Hockey, at the top of the hill, warn you about this bridge?"
"Yes, but it was too late, then, to stop," answered Dick.
"Well, I'm here to let only light loads over the bridge," the man went on. "It'll hold a horse and carriage, but not much else. Your auto would sure have gone through it."
"Then I'm glad we didn't chance it," remarked Paul.
"The county is getting bids on having a new bridge built, but when it'll be done nobody seems to know," said the man.
"I don't s'pose you mind, as long as you have a job here flagging," suggested Innis, with a smile.
"Well, 'tain't so much fun in wet weather. I'm thinkin' of havin' a shelter made. But you sure are stuck fast. You'd better go over and see if you can hire some horses. There's a farm just around the turn of the road. Porter Hanson owns it, and he's got a couple of teams."
"I guess it will take more than two teams to get us out," said Dick. "I'd rather trust to a block and fall. Could I get one around here, do you imagine?"
"You might. Some of the farmers has 'em."
"It's going to be quite a problem even at that,"said Paul, looking across to the other shore with a critical eye. "We can't get a very good hold for the block."
"Then we'll have to make one," decided Dick. "Fellows, we'll pretend this is one of the engineering problems we used to get at Kentfield, and we'll see how we can work it out.
"We've got a weight here to move of approximately four thousand pounds, and the distance, up to the road, is about twenty-five feet. Innis, how much moving force do we require?"
"Not prepared!" answered the cadet, giving one of the stock answers of the class room, and his chums laughed.
"Where are you fellows from?" asked the man with the flag.
"New York," answered Dick, which was true enough, and he did not want to go into details about himself and his chums. "We're students on our vacation."
"Well, it looks as though you were goin' to get your feet wet," remarked the bridge guardian with a chuckle. "If you want to wait I'll go down the creek a ways, and borrow a boat. But you'll have to warn any teams, heavier than a single carriage, not to go over the bridge."
"All right—we will," agreed Dick. "And we'll pay you for your trouble. We'll probably need a boat anyhow when we start to haul the car up on dry land again."
"Well, shall we go ashore?" asked Paul, astheir new friend started off down the bank of the stream.
"And get our feet wet doing it," added Innis. "I'm going to wade barefoot, anyhow," and he prepared to take off his shoes.
"Let's sit here and eat first," suggested Dick. "It's about dinner time, and we've got some hard work ahead of us. I do hope we can get a block and fall."
Dick's plan met with instant favor, and then, in the big car the three marooned travelers began to prepare a meal on the electric stove.
They were busily engaged at this when their new friend came rowing up the stream. He saw the boys sitting comfortably about the table which had been let down from the roof of the car, and his eyes grew big with astonishment.
"Wa'al, I swan t' goodness!" he gasped. "There ain't nothin' slow about you boys; be there?"
"Not so as you could notice it," assented Dick, with a laugh. "Will you have a fried egg sandwich?"
"What? Be you cookin' in there?" cried the man in astonishment.
"Sure!" laughed Paul. "Wait, I'll put an egg on for you in a jiffy!" and he broke one in the aluminum frying pan, while the man was tying the boat to the stranded auto.
"Wa'al, I swan t' goodness!" exclaimed the man, who had said his name was Peter Kinsey.
"This beats th' Dutch! Why, you've got a regular sleepin' an' dinin' car here; ain't you?"
"Somewhat," admitted Dick, while Paul passed out the egg sandwich on a wooden plate.
"Gosh all sizers!" exclaimed Mr. Kinsey, as he bit into it. "It's hot, all right! But it's mighty good jest th' same!" he added quickly.
He ate it with such evident relish that Paul at once fried him another. Then, as the three chums had eaten enough, they put away their cooking apparatus, tossed the wooden plates into the stream, and prepared to get their auto out of the mud.
"The first thing to do," decided Dick, when they had gone ashore in the boat Mr. Kinsey had borrowed for them, "is to see if we can get that tackle. There's no use bothering with horses until we have something rigged up so we can use their strength to the best advantage. Where would we be likely to get a rope and pulleys?" he asked the flagman.
"Wa'al, Josiah McIntyre might have some," was the answer. "He moved his barn last week, and I don't believe they took the rigging away."
"Where does he live?"
"Down the road a piece. Second house on the right. It's painted red and sets back a ways from the road. You can tell him what you want, and say I sent you."
"All right," agreed Dick. "Paul, I'll delegateyou to get the rope and pulleys. Push 'em here in a wheelbarrow, and see if we can hire a team when we need it."
"All right, my hearty!"
"Innis, you and I'll look about for a place where we can hitch the pulley. We may have to set a post. I suppose we could borrow a shovel?" he asked Mr. Kinsey.
"Yes, I've got one here myself. I was digging worms for fish bait. Had to do something settin' here all day. What do you want a shovel for?"
"To dig a hole to set a post in."
"I see. Well, I'll get the shovel, and I reckon you can take one of the busted beams from this bridge. There's a lot of 'em over on the other side."
With the post and shovel provided, Dick and his chums began to see a way out of their difficulty. Paul started down the road after the tackle, and Dick decided to wait and see how long the rope was before setting the post that was to support the pull of the falls against the weight of the auto.
Meanwhile he and Innis awaited the return of their chum, who had gone down the road whistling. The fine big car remained in the middle of the stream, the water swirling between the spokes of the wheels.
"It'll do it good to soak up a bit," said Dick, "It's been so dry lately that the wood was shrinking."
"Yes, it has been terrible dry," agreed Mr. Kinsey. "The farmers have begun prayin' for rain. An' it looks as if we'd get some soon."
Several boys, who had, in some mysterious way, heard of the accident, came running down the road to stand along the bank of the creek and stare at the odd sight. Dick's big car was something new and strange to them, and they made the most of the exhibition.
"Here comes Paul!" exclaimed Innis, as he saw a figure make the turn of the road. "And he's got some one to push the wheelbarrow for him," he added, as he saw a man walking beside the youth.
"Oh, you can trust Paul to get out of the hardest part of the work," laughed Dick. "Never mind, we'll need a man's help anyhow, and I was going to suggest that he hire some one."
"He's evidently done it," remarked Innis.
"Looks as though he had plenty of tackle," commented Mr. Kinsey. "I guess it's what Josiah used for his barn, all right."
"What luck?" called Dick, as his chum came within hearing distance.
"Good!" was the answer. "I've got a long tackle, and we can get two teams if we need 'em. I hired a man to help us rig it up, too."
"Fine!" exclaimed the young millionaire. "Now, Innis, we'll get busy on a practical engineering problem instead of figuring it out on paper."
"How's that post now?" called Paul, who with Innis had been tamping dirt about a short beam stuck in the ground some distance back from the edge of the water.
"That's got a better slant to it," answered Dick. "It would have pulled out as it was."
"How are you going to fasten the tackle to the car?" asked Innis, as he and his chum finished their part of the work.
"Take a hitch around the front axle. Here, give me a hand and we'll do that now. Paul, you can go see about the horses. Tell the farmer we won't need them long, and we'll pay him what he thinks they're worth."
"Aye—aye, sir," answered Paul, saluting in the most approved Kentfield Military Academy style, as he started off down the road.
The three chums, with the aid of Mr. Kinsey, and such of the gathered farm lads as volunteered, had been busy the last half-hour rigging up the tackle to pull the big car from the creek. A stout post had been set up to give a fixed purchase, for Dick found that the tackle and fall was of a good type, with one fixed and onemovable pulley—the former with two, and the latter with three wheels. This gave great power, and it would be needed, for the car was deep in the mud, and there was quite a slope to negotiate to the road.
"If she hadn't settled so deep in the mud, I could get her out under her own power," said Dick, as he and Innis fixed about the axle of the car a loose rope, into which could be fastened the hook of the movable pulley. The fixed pulley would be made fast to the post, the boys, after some discussion, having decided that this was the best plan to follow.
The ropes were adjusted, the pulleys were looked after to make sure that they would not foul, and then all that remained was to wait for the horses to come.
Quite a crowd had gathered by this time, a number of boys and men, as well as some women and girls, having been drawn from their houses by the report of the stalled auto.
"What about those papers, Dick?" asked Innis, as they finished making fast the auxiliary rope, and rowed to shore to await the return of Paul.
"They're in the auto."
"Do you think they're safe there?"
"Sure. Safer than if I had 'em in my pocket, where they'd fall out into this muddy creek. Then they would be gone forever."
"Have you the doors locked?"
"Surest thing you know. See anything of Paul?"
"Yes, there he comes, with four horses instead of two, and I'm blessed if he isn't riding one of the nags."
"Sure. What else did you expect? Paul is learning how to take life easy. He'll live longer that way."
"But why four horses? I thought two would be enough?"
"So they might, but I guess Paul doesn't believe in taking chances. Four will be sure to pull us out of the ruck, and two mightn't."
"To say nothing of the fact that the farmer saw a chance to hold you up for a double price."
"Oh, that's all right," said the young millionaire. "I don't mind paying for actual work, and it will be a blessing to get started again."
As usual, when a crowd gathers about anything that is going on, there was plenty of advice offered. One man insisted that Dick had the pulleys arranged wrong, and another held that the auto should have been pulled out backwards instead of by the front.
"But I don't want to go backwards," said Dick. "I'm going on ahead. I want to get on the other side of the bridge. I had trouble enough trying to cross the stream. I might as well finish up, now that I'm at it."
"You'll only get stuck deeper in the mud!" declared this pessimist.
"I guess the horses can get us out," said Dick. "I'll take a chance, anyhow."
The tackle was in shape, and all that remained was to hitch the four steeds to the free end of the rope, and start them. Dick rowed out to his car, and sat at the steering wheel. Two men had been hired to lay planks under the wheels to prevent them from sinking in the soft shore of the stream as soon as they should emerge from the water. Paul and Innis were to have general charge of matters on shore, one to see that the horses pulled when urged ahead, and the other to call a halt in case anything showed signs of going wrong.
"All ready?" asked Innis from his position near the heads of the horses, which the owner was to drive.
"All right here," answered Paul, who was on the shore.
"Let her go!" cried Dick, taking a firmer grip of the steering wheel.
There was a creaking of the ropes and pulleys. The cables tautened; the blocks were lifted up from the ground by the strain. The rope around the axle of the car straightened out. There was a snapping, tugging sound, and then the car began to move slowly.
"She's coming!" cried Paul.
"Keep moving!" urged Dick.
He turned the steering gear about to free the front wheels from the clinging mass of mud.The car moved faster. Then, as the horses settled to their collars, the big touring machine was slowly pulled from the water.
Then the front wheels struck the planks laid down to receive them, splitting one of the boards. Up the slope went theLast Wordamid the cheers of the assembled farmers. Up the slope and out on the road, where Dick called for a halt, and jammed on the brakes.
"Whew! I'm glad that's over!" exclaimed Paul.
"The same here!" added Innis. "Is she all right, Dick?"
"I don't know. I'm just going to have a look," and the young man bounded out of his car, and cast a hasty glance over the running gear. That seemed to be intact, save for the broken brake. The engine was next looked to, Dick starting it, with the gears unmeshed. It ran as soon as the electrical switch was turned, and the hum and throb told that it was in perfect condition.
"So far—so good!" exclaimed Dick. "Now, after we have that defective brake looked to, I guess we can get under way again."
"There's a garage about a mile further along," said Mr. Kennedy, who had supplied the horses. "I guess they can fix you up."
"I'll try for it," said Dick. Then he paid the men who had helped him, not forgetting the bridge tender who had gotten the boat for them,without which Dick and his chums would have had wet feet.
"Where are you bound for?" asked a man in the crowd. He seemed to be a stranger, since none of the others talked to him. He addressed Dick.
"Oh, we're just on a tour," replied our hero, with a sharp glance at the chap.
"Looks as though you could go all the way to 'Frisco in that car," the man went on, as he stepped to the door and peered into the interior of theLast Word.
"We could—if we wanted to," said Dick, coolly. "Please don't touch anything," he added sharply, as he saw the man fingering various levers and switches.
"Huh! I didn't mean anything," was the surly response.
"Perhaps not, but you don't know when you might do some damage," went on Dick, "and the car's been through enough for one day. Come along, boys," he added to his chums. "We'll get a move on."
With thanks to those who had helped them out of their predicament, the boys drove off toward the garage where Dick intended to have the broken brake repaired.