Search by property

This page provides a simple browsing interface for finding entities described by a property and a named value. Other available search interfaces include the page property search, and the ask query builder.

List of results

+
Bibliographic Information Auth … Bibliographic Information Author Cummings, Edward Estline Genre Poetry Journal or Book E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems 1904-1962 Publisher Liveright Year of Publication 1916 Pages 940-941 Additional information - don't get me wrong oblivion I never loved you kiddo you that was always sticking around spoiling me for everyone else telling me how it would make you nutty if I didn’t let you go the distance and I gave you my breasts to feel didn’t I and my mouth to kiss O I was too good to you oblivion old kid that’s all and when I might have told you to go ahead and croak yourselflike you was always threatening you was going to do I didn’t I said go on you inter- est me I let you hang around and whimper and I’ve been getting mine Listen there’s a fellow I love like I never love anyone else that’s six foot two tall with a face like any girl would die to kiss and a skin like a little kitten’s that’s asked me to go to Murray’s tonight with him and see the cab- aret and dance you know well if he asks me to take another I’m going to and if he asks me to take another after that I’m going to do that and if he puts me into a taxi and tells the driver to take her easy and steer for the morning I’m going to let him and if he starts in right away putting it to me in the cab I’m not going to whisper oblivion do you get me not that I’m tired of automats and Childs’s and handling out ribbon to old ladies that ain’t got three teeth and being followed home by pimps and stewed guys and sleeping lonely in a whitewashed room three thou- sand below Zero oh no I could stand that but it’s that I’m O Gawd how tired of seeing the white face of you and feeling the old hands of you and being teased and jollied about you and being prayed and implored and bribed and threatened to give you my beautiful white body kiddo that’s why car driving driver urban affect passenger +
Bibliographic Information Auth … Bibliographic Information Author Dunbar, Paul Laurence Genre Poetry Journal or Book The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar Publisher Dodd , Mead , and Company Year of Publication 1913 Pages 214-215 Additional information - Let those who will stride on their barren roads And prick themselves to haste with self-made goads, Unheeding, as they struggle day by day, If flowers be sweet or skies be blue or gray: For me, the lone, cool way by purling brooks, The solemn quiet of the woodland nooks, A song-bird somewhere trilling sadly gay, A pause to pick a flower beside the way. road class metaphor plant sky forest animal affect road side forest animal affect road side +
Bibliographic Information Auth … Bibliographic Information Author Frost, Robert Genre Poetry Journal or Book North of Boston Publisher David Nutt Year of Publication 1914 Pages 59-66 Additional information - " You ought to have seen what I saw on my way To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day : Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb, Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum In the cavernous pail of the first one to come ! And all ripe together, not some of them green And some of them ripe ! You ought to have seen ! " road village roadside plant affect pleasure " I don't know what part of the pasture you mean." " You know where they cut off the woods—let me see— It was two years ago—or no !—can it be No longer than that ?—and the following fall The fire ran and burned it all up but the wall." " Why, there hasn't been time for the bushes to grow. That's always the way with the blueberries, though : There may not have been the ghost of a sign Of them anywhere under the shade of the pine, But get the pine out of the way, you may burn The pasture all over until not a fern Or grass-blade is left, not to mention a stick, And presto, they're up all around you as thick And hard to explain as a conjuror's trick." “ It must be on charcoal they fatten their fruit. I taste in them sometimes the flavour of soot. And after all really they're ebony skinned : The blue's but a mist from the breath of the wind, A tarnish that goes at a touch of the hand, And less than the tan with which pickers are tanned." " Does Mortenson know what he has, do you think ? " " He may and not care and so leave the chewink To gather them for him—you know what he is. He won't make the fact that they're rightfully his An excuse for keeping us other folk out." " I wonder you didn't see Loren about." " The best of it was that I did. Do you know, I was just getting through what the field had to show And over the wall and into the road, When who should come by, with a democrat-load Of all the young chattering Lorens alive, But Loren, the fatherly, out for a drive." road agriculture road condition " He saw you, then ? What did he do ? Did he frown ? " " He just kept nodding his head up and down. You know how politely he always goes by. But he thought a big thought—I could tell by his eye— Which being expressed, might be this in effect : ' I have left those there berries, I shrewdly suspect, To ripen too long. I am greatly to blame.' " " He's a thriftier person than some I could name." " He seems to be thrifty ; and hasn't he need, With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed ? He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say, Like birds. They store a great many away. They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet." " Who cares what they say ? It's a nice way to live, Just taking what Nature is willing to give, Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow. “ “I wish you had seen his perpetual bow— And the air of the youngsters ! Not one of them turned, And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned.” car “ I wish I knew half what the flock of them know Of where all the berries and other things grow, Cranberries in bogs and raspberries on top Of the boulder-strewn mountain, and when they will crop. I met them one day and each had a flower Stuck into his berries as fresh as a shower ; Some strange kind—they told me it hadn't a name. " car metaphor " He seems to be thrifty ; and hasn't he need, With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed ? He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say, Like birds. They store a great many away. They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet." " Who cares what they say ? It's a nice way to live, Just taking what Nature is willing to give, Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow. “ “I wish you had seen his perpetual bow— And the air of the youngsters ! Not one of them turned, And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned.” “ I wish I knew half what the flock of them know Of where all the berries and other things grow, Cranberries in bogs and raspberries on top Of the boulder-strewn mountain, and when they will crop. I met them one day and each had a flower Stuck into his berries as fresh as a shower ; Some strange kind—they told me it hadn't a name. " " I've told you how once not long after we came, I almost provoked poor Loren to mirth By going to him of all people on earth To ask if he knew any fruit to be had For the picking. The rascal, he said he'd be glad To tell if he knew. But the year had been bad. There had been some berries—but those were all gone. He didn't say where they had been. He went on : ' I'm sure—I'm sure '—as polite as could be. He spoke to his wife in the door, ' Let me see, Mame, we don't know any good berrying place ? ' It was all he could do to keep a straight face. " If he thinks all the fruit that grows wild is for him, He'll find he's mistaken. See here, for a whim, We'll pick in the Mortensons' pasture this year. We'll go in the morning, that is, if it's clear, And the sun shines out warm : the vines must be wet. It's so long since I picked I almost forget How we used to pick berries : we took one look round, Then sank out of sight like trolls underground, And saw nothing more of each other, or heard, Unless when you said I was keeping a bird Away from its nest, and I said it was you. ' Well, one of us is.' For complaining it flew Around and around us. And then for a while We picked, till I feared you had wandered a mile, And I thought I had lost you. I lifted a shout Too loud for the distance you were, it turned out, For when you made answer, your voice was as low As talking—you stood up beside me, you know. " We shan't have the place to ourselves to enjoy— Not likely, when all the young Lorens deploy. They'll be there to-morrow, or even to-night. They won't be too friendly—they may be polite— To people they look on as having no right To pick where they're picking. But we won't complain. You ought to have seen how it looked in the rain, The fruit mixed with water in layers of leaves, Like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves." +
Bibliographic Information Auth … Bibliographic Information Author H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) Genre Poetry Journal or Book - Publisher - Year of Publication 1916 Pages 44-46 Additional information - metaphysics Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street, each patterned alike, no grace to lighten a single house of the hundred crowded into one garden-space. street town urban affect Crowded—can we believe, not in utter disgust, in ironical play— but the maker of cities grew faint with the beauty of temple and space before temple, arch upon perfect arch, of pillars and corridors that led out to strange court-yards and porches where sun-light stamped hyacinth-shadows black on the pavement. urban town architecture affect road That the maker of cities grew faint with the splendour of palaces, paused while the incense-flowers from the incense-trees dropped on the marble-walk, thought anew, fashioned this— street after street alike. urban town metaphor plant tree roadside road affect For alas, he had crowded the city so full that men could not grasp beauty, beauty was over them, through them, about them, no crevice unpacked with the honey, rare, measureless. So he built a new city, ah can we believe, not ironically but for new splendour constructed new people to lift through slow growth to a beauty unrivalled yet— and created new cells, hideous first, hideous now— spread larve across them, not honey but seething life. And in these dark cells, packed street after street, souls live, hideous yet— O disfigured, defaced, with no trace of the beauty men once held so light. street town urban affect Can we think a few old cells were left—we are left— grains of honey, old dust of stray pollen dull on our torn wings, we are left to recall the old streets ? street town urban affect nostalgia Is our task the less sweet that the larve still sleep in their cells? Or crawl out to attack our frail strength: You are useless. We live. We await great events. We are spread through this earth. We protect our strong race. You are useless. Your cell takes the place of our young future strength. Though they sleep or wake to torment and wish to displace our old cells— thin rare gold— that their larve grow fat— is our task the less sweet? Though we wander about, find no honey of flowers in this waste, is our task the less sweet— who recall the old splendour, await the new beauty of cities? +
Before editing pages make sure you have th … Before editing pages make sure you have the necessary Editor rights. Texts How to create new Category:Texts pages and annotate paragraphs. Enter the name of the page. The name is relevant for searching and should be the same as the title of the text. Metadata Insert a <meta> section. Note: Attributes like genre are case sensitive! <meta author="Dreiser, Theodore;Sandburg, Carl;Sinclair, Lewis" additional_information="Info text here.." genre="Novel,Thriller" journal="Journal1, Journal2" publisher="Publisher1, Publisher2" year_of_publication="2000,2001" page_range="1-10"/> The author attribute can have multiple values separated by a ";" semicolon. The attributes genre, journal, publisher, year_of_publication can have multiple values separated by a "," comma. Attributes can be omitted completely and are shown as "-" in the Bibliographic Information section on the text page. Annotations Its best to look at already annotated pages to get a feeling for how the markup works. Put all annotations inside <annotations>...</annotations> elements. Define paragraphs via <paragraph keywords="keyword1,keyword2">paragraph text</paragraph> The keywords attribute can have multiple values separated by a "," comma. There can be multiple paragraphs. Use <pagenr>(1)</pagenr> elements to display page number information inside paragraphs. Use <poem>...</poem> inside paragraphs to keep formatting exactly like in the editor. See Extension:Poem for further formatting instructions. Use wikitext like == CHAPTER I == between paragraphs for headlines and other wiki markup for styling. Authors How to create new Category:Authors pages. Enter the name of the author. This should always follow the same naming convention throughout the wiki e.g. Frost, Robert . Insert an author infobox and related texts section with the following wikitext: {{Infobox Author| gender = Male| ethnicity = African, American| nationality = African| life span = quite long}} The ethnicity parameter can have multiple values separated by a "," comma. Attributes can be omitted completely and are shown as "-" in the Bibliographic Information section on the author page. nationality and life span are not used for searching and can therefore contain any text. Examples Click on Actions->Edit on an existing page like Off_the_Highway or Frost, Robert to see examples of working edits. Special Pages Use Mediawiki:Sidebar to edit the navigation bar items. Edit MediaWiki:Common.css to change the styling of the wiki. Scroll down to /* OFFTHEROAD CUSTOM CSS SECTION */ to find custom styling for the offroad wiki. Edit MediaWiki:Text Template to change the preloaded text for new Category:Texts pages. Edit MediaWiki:Author Template to change the preloaded text for new Category:Authors pages. Extensions See Special:Version for details. Composer SemanticBundle Extension Directory OffTheRoad WikiSearch WikiSearchFront YouTube WSSemanticParsedText ArrayFunctions (at least version 1.42 for the caseinsensitive option) SemanticBundle SemanticMediaWiki PageForms Other These come bundled with the above setup. PdfHandler ParserFunctions Poem InputBox TemplateDataThese come bundled with the above setup. PdfHandler ParserFunctions Poem InputBox TemplateData +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Aldington, Richard Genre Poetry Journal or Book Some Imagist Poets: An Anthology Publisher Houghton Mifflin Company Year of Publication 1915 Pages 10-11 Additional information - tree Why do you always stand there shivering Between the white stream and the road? river roadside temperature The people pass through the dust On bicycles, in carts, in motor-cars; The waggoners go by at dawn; The lovers walk on the grass path at night. dust bicycle car road scenery Stir from your roots, walk, poplar! You are more beautiful than they are. I know that the white wind loves you, Is always kissing you and turning up The white lining of your green petticoat. The sky darts through you like blue rain, And the grey rain drips on your flanks And loves you. And I have seen the moon Slip his silver penny into your pocket As you straightened your hair; And the white mist curling and hesitating Like a bashful lover about your knees. tree I know you, poplar; I have watched you since I was ten. But if you had a little real love, A little strength, You would leave your nonchalant idle lovers And go walking down the white road Behind the waggoners. tree anthropomorphism road pedestrian There are beautiful beeches down beyond the hill. Will you always stand there shivering?l. Will you always stand there shivering? +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Aldington, Richard Genre Poetry Journal or Book - Publisher - Year of Publication 1928 Pages 152 Additional information - Deadness of English winter, dreariness, cold sky over provincial towns, mist. Melancholy of undulating trams solitary jangling through muddy streets, narrowness, imperfection, dullness, black extinguisher over English towns; mediocre women in dull clothes— their nudity a disaster— heavy cunning men (guts and passbooks), relics of gentry, workmen on bicycles, puffy small whores, baby carriages, shops, newspapers, bets, cinemas, allotments . . . traffic mud road condition fog winter bicycle pedestrian road side town These are your blood; their begetters made in the same bed as yours (horror of copulation), colossal promiscuity of flesh through centuries (seed and cemeteries). Sculptor! show Mars bloody in gas-lit abattoirs, Apollo organist of Saint Mary's, Venus of High Street, Athena, worshipped at National schools. Painter! there are beets in allotments, embankments, coal-yards, villas, grease, interpret the music, orchestra, trams, trains, cars, hobnails, factories— O poet! chant them to the pianola, to the metronome in faultless verse . . . car sound town train other mobilities road urban mobilities road urban +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Aldington, Richard Genre Poetry Journal or Book - Publisher - Year of Publication 1928 Pages 52 Additional information - Vagabonds of beauty, Wistful, exquisite waifs From a lost, and a forgotten, and a lovely land, We cannot comfort you Though our souls yearn for you. car metaphor affect You are delicate strangers In a gloomy town, Stared at and hated— Gold crocus blossoms in a drab lane. city affect road metaphor We cannot comfort you; Your life is anguish; All we can do— Mutely bring pungent herbs and branches of oak And resinous scented pine wreaths To hide the crown of thorny pain Crushing your white frail foreheads. road road condition car metaphor affect plant car metaphor affect plant +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Auden, Wystan Hugh Genre Poetry Journal or Book - Publisher - Year of Publication 1928 Pages 40-41 Additional information - Between attention and attention The first and last decision Is mortal distraction Of earth and air, Further and nearer, The vague wants Of days and nights, And personal error; And the fatigued face. Taking the strain Of the horizontal force And the vertical thrust, Makes random answer To the crucial test; The uncertain flesh Scraping back chair For the wrong train, Falling in slush, Before a friend’s friends Or shaking hands With a snub-nosed winner. traffic train metaphor The opening window, closing door, Open, close, but not To finish or restore; These wishes get No further than The edges of the town, And leaning asking from the car Cannot tell us where we are; While the divided face Has no grace, No discretion, No occupation But registering Acreage, mileage, The easy knowledge Of the virtuous thing. town car car part driver metaphor metaphysics personificationtaphor metaphysics personification +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Auden, Wystan Hugh Genre Poetry Journal or Book - Publisher - Year of Publication 1928 Pages 65-68 Additional information - Get there if you can and see the land you once were proud to own Though the roads have almost vanished and the expresses never run: road affect road condition Smokeless chimneys, damaged bridges, rotting wharves and choked canals, Tramlines buckled, smashed trucks lying on their side across the rails; infrastructure bridge train car road road condition Power-stations locked, deserted, since they drew the boiler fires; Pylons fallen or subsiding, trailing dead high-tension wires; infrastructure risk Head-gears gaunt on grass-grown pit-banks, seams abandoned years ago; Drop a stone and listen for its splash in flooded dark below. Squeeze into the works through broken windows or through damp-sprung doors; See the rotted shafting, see holes gaping in the upper floors; Where the Sunday lads come talking motor bicycle and girl, Smoking cigarettes in chains until their heads are in a whirl. other mobilities bicycles car gender Far from there we spent the money, thinking we could well afford, While they quietly undersold us with their cheaper trade abroad; At the theatre, playing tennis, driving motor cars we had, In our continental villas, mixing cocktails for a cad. car driving class urban infrastructure metaphor These were boon companions who devised the legends for our tombs, These who have betrayed us nicely while we took them to our rooms. Newman, Ciddy, Plato, Fronny, Pascal, Bowdler, Baudelaire, Doctor Frommer, Mrs Allom, Freud, the Baron, and Flaubert. Lured with their compelling logic, charmed with beauty of their verse, With their loaded sideboards whispered ‘Better join us, life is worse.’ Taught us at the annual camps arranged by the big business men ‘Sunbathe, pretty till you’re twenty. You shall be our servants then.’ Perfect pater. Marvellous mater. Knock the critic down who dares — Very well, believe it, copy; till your hair is white as theirs. Yours you say were parents to avoid, avoid then if you please Do the reverse on all occasion till you catch the same disease. When we asked the way to Heaven, these directed us ahead To the padded room, the clinic and the hangman’s little shed. Intimate as war-time prisoners in an isolation camp, Living month by month together, nervy, famished, lousy, damp. On the sopping esplanade or from our dingy lodgings we Stare out dully at the rain which falls for miles into the sea. Lawrence, Blake and Homer Lane, once healers in our English land; These are dead as iron for ever; these can never hold our hand. Lawrence was brought down by smut-hounds, Blake went dotty as he sang, Homer Lane was killed in action by the Twickenham Baptist gang. Have things gone too far already? Are we done for? Must we wait Hearing doom’s approaching footsteps regular down miles of straight; Run the whole night through in gumboots, stumble on and gasp for breath, Terrors drawing close and closer, winter landscape, fox’s death; Or, in friendly fireside circle, sit and listen for the crash Meaning that the mob has realized something’s up, and start to smash; Engine-drivers with their oil-cans, factory girls in overalls Blowing sky-high monster stores, destroying intellectuals? engine driver car oil metaphor risk Hope and fear are neck and neck: which is it near the course’s end Crashes, having lost his nerve; is overtaken on the bend? road road condition driving risk Shut up talking, charming in the best suits to be had in town, Lecturing on navigation while the ship is going down. town navigation other mobilities Drop those priggish ways for ever, stop behaving like a stone: Throw the bath-chairs right away, and learn to leave ourselves alone. If we really want to live, we’d better start at once to try; If we don’t, it doesn’t matter, but we’d better start to die. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Birney, Earle Genre Poetry Journal or Book The Collected Poems of Earle Birney Publisher McClelland Steward Year of Publication 1928 Pages 37-39 Additional information - & you as remote now as that range radiating heat not holding it the buttes rainstormed but instant dryers i remember you like opera ive a hitchhiker but he wont talk i keep radioing words to you but what to say you’d really like? o luvalee the peach & almond petals? sure but it’s too late in the spring now dear tease ive left ploughed earth & the green ricefields behind revved thru towns with dusty palms yes damn you im up thru spidery almonds no more wine & oranges into hot canyons between bare yellow breasts of hill something vulgar about the landscape as well as me or is it just this jalopy’s had it? my conrods clank the rad’s jerked off again will i ever make vancouver? hitchiker sound affect car part metaphor Northwest passenger scenery season spring plant agriculture desert topography my hitch decided no got out at the last crossroad & just passed waving from a new studebaker at me leaning against this robbers-roost garage with time to telepath you something while they screw in a new pump i dont need hitchhiker car model garage infrastructure car part maintenance passenger well what’s to say? the view looks edible peppered with black oaks white barns for salt a saffron sunset “there you go being physical again” i can hear you well why not? this goddamn sky’s one big red cherry now & the sacramento’s a hairy crack between the white thighs of the liveoaks & by geez if there aint a rock-prick a-purplin up in all this stagey Eden northwest taste tree sky river religion plant scenery but you’re not on my wavelength & now the crate’s cooled we'll sign off head on north you said you hoped to see more of me in the fall but will we ever fall together? that would be really operatic. metaphor technology +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Braithwaite, William S. Genre Poetry Journal or Book - Publisher - Year of Publication 1908 Pages 30 Additional information - A white road between sea and land, Night and silence on either hand–– Pointing to some unknown gate A white forefinger of fate. road ocean night sound metaphor I follow, I follow––I'll wend My way on this road to the end; Silence may keep to the sea, On land no light shines free. road metaphor navigation Bend low, impenetrable sky–– Through your shades my road runs high: It needs no stars to guide–– No measuring sea-tide. navigation sky road metaphor I breathe the imperishable breath, I trespass the bounds of death–– For my heart knows all the way To the eternal day. death sublime +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Carman, Bliss Genre Poetry Journal or Book April Airs: A Book of New England Lyrics Publisher Snall , Maynard and Company Year of Publication 1920 Pages 29-30 Additional information The poem was originally published in 1914. road For the birthday of James Whitcomb Riley, October 7, 1914. Lockerbie Street is a little street, Just one block long; But the days go there with a magical air, The whole year long. The sun in his journey across the sky Slows his car as he passes by; The sighing wind and the grieving rain Change their tune and cease to complain; And the birds have a wonderful call that seems Like a street-cry out of the land of dreams; For there the real and the make-believe meet. Time does not hurry in Lockerbie Street. street magic sun car road sky wind rain weather animal affect pleasure slowness driver Lockerbie Street is a little street, Only one block long; But the moonlight there is strange and fair All the year long, As ever it was in old romance, When fairies would sing and fauns would dance, Proving this earth is subject still To a blithesome wonder-working Will, Spreading beauty over the land, That every beholder may understand How glory shines round the Mercy-seat. That is the gospel of Lockerbie Street. street night moonlight magic metaphor sublime Lockerbie Street is a little street, Only one block long, A little apart, yet near the heart Of the city's throng. If you are a stranger looking to find Respite and cheer for soul and mind, And have lost your way, and would inquire For a street that will lead to Heart's Desire,— To a place where the spirit is never old, And gladness and love are worth more than gold, — Ask the first boy or girl you meet! Everyone knows where is Lockerbie Street. street affect metaphor town pedestrian Lockerbie Street is a little street, Only one block long; But never a street in all the world, In story or song, Is better beloved by old and young; For there a poet has lived and sung, Wise as an angel, glad as a bird, Fearless and fond in every word, Many a year. And if you would know The secret of joy and the cure of woe,— How to be gentle and brave and sweet,— Ask your way to Lockerbie Street. street affect pleasure metaphor road navigationvigation +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Crane, Hart Genre Poetry Journal or Book The Collected Poems of Hart Crane Publisher Liveright Publishing Corporation Year of Publication 1933 Pages 49-54 Additional information - To Find the Western path Right thro' the Gates of Wrath —Blake Performances, assortments, résumés— Up Times Square to Columbus Circle lights Channel the congresses, nightly sessions, Refractions of the thousand theatres, faces— Mysterious kitchens.... You shall search them all. Some day by heart you’ll learn each famous sight And watch the curtain lift in hell’s despite; You’ll find the garden in the third act dead, Finger your knees—and wish yourself in bed With tabloid crime-sheets perched in easy sight. infrastructure Then let you reach your hat and go. As usual, let you—also walking down—exclaim to twelve upward leaving a subscription praise for what time slays. Or can’t you quite make up your mind to ride; A walk is better underneath the L a brisk Ten blocks or so before? But you find yourself Preparing penguin flexions of the arms,— As usual you will meet the scuttle yawn: The subway yawns the quickest promise home. train Be minimum, then, to swim the hiving swarms Out of the Square, the Circle burning bright— Avoid the glass doors gyring at your right, Where boxed alone a second, eyes take fright —Quite unprepared rush naked back to light: And down beside the turnstile press the coin Into the slot. The gongs already rattle. And so of cities you bespeak subways, rivered under streets and rivers.... In the car the overtone of motion underground, the monotone of motion is the sound of other faces, also underground— train “Let’s have a pencil Jimmy—living now at Floral Park Flatbush—on the Fourth of July— like a pigeon’s muddy dream—potatoes to dig in the field—travlin the town—too— night after night—the Culver line—the girls all shaping up—it used to be—” Our tongues recant like beaten weather vanes. This answer lives like verdigris, like hair Beyond extinction, surcease of the bone; And repetition freezes—“What “what do you want? getting weak on the links? fandaddle daddy don’t ask for change—IS THIS FOURTEENTH? it’s half past six she said—if you don’t like my gate why did you swing on it, why didja swing on it anyhow—” And somehow anyhow swing— The phonographs of hades in the brain Are tunnels that re-wind themselves, and love A burnt match skating in a urinal— Somewhere above Fourteenth TAKE THE EXPRESS To brush some new presentiment of pain— “But I want service in this office SERVICE I said—after the show she cried a little afterwards but—” Whose head is swinging from the swollen strap? Whose body smokes along the bitten rails, Bursts from a smoldering bundle far behind In back forks of the chasms of the brain,— Puffs from a riven stump far out behind In interborough fissures of the mind...? And why do I often meet your visage here, Your eyes like agate lanterns—on and on Below the toothpaste and the dandruff ads? —And did their riding eyes right through your side, And did their eyes like unwashed platters ride? And Death, aloft,—gigantically down Probing through you—toward me, O evermore! And when they dragged your retching flesh, Your trembling hands that night through Baltimore— That last night on the ballot rounds, did you Shaking, did you deny the ticket, Poe? For Gravesend Manor change at Chambers Street. The platform hurries along to a dead stop. The intent escalator lifts a serenade Stilly Of shoes, umbrellas, each eye attending its shoe, then Bolting outright somewhere above where streets Burst suddenly in rain.... The gongs recur: Elbows and levers, guard and hissing door. Thunder is galvothermic here below.... The car Wheels off. The train rounds, bending to a scream, Taking the final level for the dive Under the river— And somewhat emptier than before, Demented, for a hitching second, humps; then Lets go.... Toward corners of the floor Newspapers wing, revolve and wing. Blank windows gargle signals through the roar. anthropomorphism car metaphor sound road weather thunder train And does the Daemon take you home, also, Wop washerwoman, with the bandaged hair? After the corridors are swept, the cuspidors— The gaunt sky-barracks cleanly now, and bare, O Genoese, do you bring mother eyes and hands Back home to children and to golden hair? Daemon, demurring and eventful yawn! Whose hideous laughter is a bellows mirth —Or the muffled slaughter of a day in birth— O cruelly to inoculate the brinking dawn With antennae toward worlds that glow and sink;— To spoon us out more liquid than the dim Locution of the eldest star, and pack The conscience navelled in the plunging wind, Umbilical to call—and straightway die! O caught like pennies beneath soot and steam, Kiss of our agony thou gatherest; Condensed, thou takest all—shrill ganglia Impassioned with some song we fail to keep. And yet, like Lazarus, to feel the slope, The sod and billow breaking,—lifting ground, —A sound of waters bending astride the sky Unceasing with some Word that will not die...! * A tugboat, wheezing wreaths of steam, Lunged past, with one galvanic blare stove up the River. I counted the echoes assembling, one after one, Searching, thumbing the midnight on the piers. Lights, coasting, left the oily tympanum of waters; The blackness somewhere gouged glass on a sky. And this thy harbor, O my City, I have driven under, Tossed from the coil of ticking towers.... Tomorrow, And to be.... Hereby the River that is East— Here at the waters’ edge the hands drop memory; Shadowless in that abyss they unaccounting lie. How far away the star has pooled the sea— Or shall the hands be drawn away, to die? driving infrastructure pollution ocean river urban city Kiss of our agony Thou gatherest, O Hand of Fire gatherest— +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Crane, Hart Genre Poetry Journal or Book White Buildings Publisher Boni & Liveright Year of Publication 1926 Pages 93-99 Additional information - “And so we may arrive by Talmud skill And profane Greek to raise the building up Of Helen’s house against the Ismaelite, King of Thogarma, and his habergeons Brimstony, blue and fiery; and the force Of King Abaddon, and the beast of Cuttim ; Which Rabb David Kimchi, Onkelos, And Aben Ezra do interpret Rome.” —THE ALCHEMIST I The mind has shown itself at times Too much the baked and labeled dough Divided by accepted multitudes. Across the stacked partitions of the day— Across the memoranda, baseball scores, The stenographic smiles and stock quotations Smutty wings flash out equivocations. The mind is brushed by sparrow wings; Numbers, rebuffed by asphalt, crowd The margins of the day, accent the curbs, Convoying divers dawns on every corner To druggist, barber and tobacconist, Until the graduate opacities of evening Take them away as suddenly to somewhere Virginal perhaps, less fragmentary, cool. road urban There is the world dimensional for those untwisted by the love of things irreconcilable . . . And yet, suppose some evening I forgot The fare and transfer, yet got by that way Without recall,— lost yet poised in traffic. Then I might find your eyes across an aisle, Still flickering with those prefigurations— Prodigal, yet uncontested now, Half-riant before the jerky window frame. road traffic affect nostalgia There is some way, I think, to touch Those hands of yours that count the nights Stippled with pink and green advertisements. And now, before its arteries turn dark, I would have you meet this bartered blood. Imminent in his dream, none better knows The white wafer cheek of love, or offers words Lightly as moonlight on the eaves meets snow. Reflective conversion of all things At your deep blush, when ecstasies thread The limbs and belly, when rainbows spread Impinging on the throat and sides . . . Inevitable, the body of the world Weeps in inventive dust for the hiatus That winks above it, bluet in your breasts. The earth may glide diaphanous to death; But if I lift my arms it is to bend To you who turned away once, Helen, knowing The press of troubled hands, too alternate With steel and soil to hold you endlessly. I meet you, therefore, in that eventual flame You found in final chains, no captive then— Beyond their million brittle, bloodshot eyes; White, through white cities passed on to assume That world which comes to each of us alone. Accept a lone eye riveted to your plane, Bent axle of devotion along companion ways That beat, continuous, to hourless days— One inconspicuous, glowing orb of praise. II Brazen hypnotics glitter here; Glee shifts from foot to foot, Magnetic to their tremolo. This crashing opera bouffe, Blest excursion! this ricochet From roof to roof— Know, Olympians, we are breathless While nigger cupids scour the stars! A thousand light shrugs balance us Through snarling hails of melody. White shadows slip across the floor Splayed like cards from a loose hand; Rhythmic ellipses lead into canters Until somewhere a rooster banters. Greet naïvely—yet intrepidly New soothings, new amazements That cornets introduce at every turn— And you may fall downstairs with me With perfect grace and equanimity. Or, plaintively scud past shores Where, by strange harmonic laws All relatives, serene and cool, Sit rocked in patent armchairs. O, I have known metallic paradises Where cuckoos clucked to finches Above the deft catastrophes of drums. While titters hailed the groans of death Beneath gyrating awnings I have seen The incunabula of the divine grotesque. This music has a reassuring way. The siren of the springs of guilty song— Let us take her on the incandescent wax Striated with nuances, nervosities That we are heir to: she is still so young, We cannot frown upon her as she smiles, Dipping here in this cultivated storm Among slim skaters of the gardened skies. III Capped arbiter of beauty in this street That narrows darkly into motor dawn,— You, here beside me, delicate ambassador Of intricate slain numbers that arise In whispers, naked of steel; religious gunman! Who faithfully, yourself, will fall too soon, And in other ways than as the wind settles On the sixteen thrifty bridges of the city: Let us unbind our throats of fear and pity. We even, Who drove speediest destruction In corymbulous formations of mechanics,— Who hurried the hill breezes, spouting malice Plangent over meadows, and looked down On rifts of torn and empty houses Like old women with teeth unjubilant That waited faintly, briefly and in vain: metaphor dawn car night urban infrastructure driving speed mechanic weapon street engine sound bridge We know, eternal gunman, our flesh remembers The tensile boughs, the nimble blue plateaus, The mounted, yielding cities of the air! That saddled sky that shook down vertical Repeated play of fire—no hypogeum Of wave or rock was good against one hour. We did not ask for that, but have survived, And will persist to speak again before All stubble streets that have not curved To memory, or known the ominous lifted arm That lowers down the arc of Helen’s brow To saturate with blessing and dismay. weapon haptic city road metaphor intertext A goose, tobacco and cologne— Three winged and gold-shod prophecies of heaven, The lavish heart shall always have to leaven And spread with bells and voices, and atone The abating shadows of our conscript dust. Anchises’ navel, dripping of the sea,— The hands Erasmus dipped in gleaming tides, Gathered the voltage of blown blood and vine; Delve upward for the new and scattered wine, O brother-thief of time, that we recall. Laugh out the meagre penance of their days Who dare not share with us the breath released, The substance drilled and spent beyond repair For golden, or the shadow of gold hair. Distinctly praise the years, whose volatile Blamed bleeding hands extend and thresh the height The imagination spans beyond despair, Outpacing bargain, vocable and prayer. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Cummings, Edward Estline Genre Poetry Journal or Book E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems 1904-1962 Publisher Liveright Year of Publication 1926 Pages 246 Additional information - technology pleasure gender personification she being Brand personification gender -new;and you know consequently a little stiff i was careful of her and(having thoroughly oiled the universal joint tested my gas felt of her radiator made sure her springs were O. car part haptic gender maintenance oil K.)i went right to it flooded-the-carburetor cranked her driving car car part metaphor sound up,slipped the clutch(and then somehow got into reverse she kicked what the hell)next minute i was back in neutral tried and driving driver driving skill car part gender haptic agency personification again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg. ing(my slowness driving lev-er Right- oh and her gears being in A 1 shape passed from low through second-in-to-high like greasedlightning)just as we turned the corner of Divinity car part driving engine oil gender metaphor haptic driving pleasure sublime avenue i touched the accelerator and give driving road speed her the juice,good gasoline (it was the first ride and believe i we was happy to see how nice she acted right up to the last minute coming back down by the Public Gardens i slammed on driving gender haptic affect pleasure urban the internalexpanding & externalcontracting brakes Bothatonce and car part personification driving engine speed death brought allofher tremB -ling to a:dead. stand- ;Still) slowness stop parking slowness stop parking +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Cummings, Edward Estline Genre Poetry Journal or Book E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems 1904-1962 Publisher Liveright Year of Publication 1958 Pages 680 Additional information - dominic has a doll wired to the radiator of his ZOOM DOOM car car part metaphor sound onomatopoeia icecoalwood truck a car wistful little clown whom somebody buried upsidedown in an ashbarrel so of course dominic took him home & mrs dominic washed his sweet car dirty face & mended his bright torn trousers(quite as if he were really her & she but)& so that 's how dominic has a doll & every now & then my wonderful friend dominic depaola gives me a most tremendous hug knowing i feel that we & worlds are less alive than dolls &; worlds are less alive than dolls & +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Du Bois, W. E. Burghardt Genre Fiction Journal or Book The Comet Publisher - Year of Publication 1920 Pages 253-273 Additional information - He stood a moment on the steps of the bank, watching the human river that swirled down Broadway. Few noticed him. Few ever noticed him save in a way that stung. He was outside the world—"nothing!" as he said bitterly. Bits of the words of the walkers came to him. "The comet?" "The comet–––" Everybody was talking of it. Even the president, as he entered, smiled patronizingly at him, and asked: "Well, Jim, are you scared?" "No," said the messenger shortly. "I thought we'd journeyed through the comet's tail once," broke in the junior clerk affably. "Oh, that was Halley's," said the president; "this is a new comet, quite a stranger, they say—wonderful, wonderful! I saw it last night. Oh, by the way, Jim," turning again to the messenger, "I want you to go down into the lower vaults today." The messenger followed the president silently. Of course, they wanted him to go down to the lower vaults. It was too dangerous for more valuable men. He smiled grimly and listened. "Everything of value has been moved out since the water began to seep in," said the president; "but we miss two volumes of old records. Suppose you nose around down there,—it isn't very pleasant, I suppose." "Not very," said the messenger, as he walked out. "Well, Jim, the tail of the new comet hits us at noon this time," said the vault clerk, as he passed over the keys; but the messenger passed silently down the stairs. Down he went beneath Broadway, where the dim light filtered through the feet of hurrying men; down to the dark basement beneath; down into the blackness and silence beneath that lowest cavern. Here with his dark lantern he groped in the bowels of the earth, under the world. He drew a long breath as he threw back the last great iron door and stepped into the fetid slime within. Here at last was peace, and he groped moodily forward. A great rat leaped past him and cobwebs crept across his face. He felt carefully around the room, shelf by shelf, on the muddied floor, and in crevice and corner. Nothing. Then he went back to the far end, where somehow the wall felt different. He sounded and pushed and pried. Nothing. He started away. Then something brought him back. He was sounding and working again when suddenly the whole black wall swung as on mighty hinges, and blackness yawned beyond. He peered in; it was evidently a secret vault––some hiding place of the old bank unknown in newer times. He entered hesitatingly. It was a long, narrow room with shelves, and at the far end, an old iron chest. On a high shelf lay the two missing volumes of records, and others. He put them carefully aside and stepped to the chest. It was old, strong, and rusty. He looked at the vast and old-fashioned lock and flashed his light on the hinges. They were deeply incrusted with rust. Looking about, he found a bit of iron and began to pry. The rust had eaten a hundred years, and it had gone deep. Slowly, wearily, the old lid lifted, and with a last, low groan laid bare its treasure––and he saw the dull sheen of gold! "Boom!" A low, grinding, reverberating crash struck upon his ear. He started up and looked about. All was black and still. He groped for his light and swung it about him. Then he knew! The great stone door had swung to. He forgot the gold and looked death squarely in the face. Then with a sigh he went methodically to work. The cold sweat stood on his forehead; but he searched, pounded, pushed, and worked until after what seemed endless hours his hand struck a cold bit of metal and the great door swung again harshly on its hinges, and then, striking against something soft and heavy, stopped. He had just room to squeeze through. There lay the body of the vault clerk, cold and stiff. He stared at it, and then felt sick and nauseated. The air seemed unaccountably foul, with a strong, peculiar odor. He stepped forward, clutched at the air, and fell fainting across the corpse. He awoke with a sense of horror, leaped from the body, and groped up the stairs, calling to the guard. The watchman sat as if asleep, with the gate swinging free. With one glance at him the messenger hurried up to the sub-vault. In vain he called to the guards. His voice echoed and re-echoed weirdly. Up into the great basement he rushed. Here another guard lay prostrate on his face, cold and still. A fear arose in the messenger's heart. He dashed up to the cellar floor, up into the bank. The stillness of death lay everywhere and everywhere bowed, bent, and stretched the silent forms of men. The messenger paused and glanced about. He was not a man easily moved; but the sight was appalling! "Robbery and murder," he whispered slowly to himself as he saw the twisted, oozing mouth of the president where he lay half-buried on his desk. Then a new thought seized him: If they found him here alone––with all this money and all these dead men––what would his life be worth? He glanced about, tiptoed cautiously to a side door, and again looked behind. Quietly he turned the latch and stepped out into Wall Street. How silent the street was! Not a soul was stirring, and yet it was high-noon––Wall Street? Broadway? He glanced almost wildly up and down, then across the street, and as he looked, a sickening horror froze in his limbs. With a choking cry of utter fright he lunged, leaned giddily against the cold building, and stared helplessly at the sight. In the great stone doorway a hundred men and women and children lay crushed and twisted and jammed, forced into that great, gaping doorway like refuse in a can––as if in one wild, frantic rush to safety, they had crushed and ground themselves to death. Slowly the messenger crept along the walls, wetting his parched mouth and trying to comprehend, stilling the tremor in his limbs and the rising terror in his heart. He met a business man, silk-hatted and frock-coated, who had crept, too, along that smooth wall and stood now stone dead with wonder written on his lips. The messenger turned his eyes hastily away and sought the curb. A woman leaned wearily against the signpost, her head bowed motionless on her lace and silken bosom. Before her stood a street car, silent, and within––but the messenger but glanced and hurried on. A grimy newsboy sat in the gutter with the "last edition" in his uplifted hand: "Danger!" screamed its black headlines. "Warnings wired around the world. The Comet's tail sweeps past us at noon. Deadly gases expected. Close doors and windows. Seek the cellar." The messenger read and staggered on. Far out from a window above, a girl lay with gasping face and sleevelets on her arms. On a store step sat a little, sweet-faced girl looking upward toward the skies, and in the carriage by her lay––but the messenger looked no longer. The cords gave way––the terror burst in his veins, and with one great, gasping cry he sprang desperately forward and ran,––ran as only the frightened run, shrieking and fighting the air until with one last wail of pain he sank on the grass of Madison Square and lay prone and still. car When he arose, he gave no glance at the still and silent forms on the benches, but, going to a fountain, bathed his face; then hiding himself in a corner away from the drama of death, he quietly gripped himself and thought the thing through: The comet had swept the earth and this was the end. Was everybody dead? He must search and see. He knew that he must steady himself and keep calm, or he would go insane. First he must go to a restaurant. He walked up Fifth Avenue to a famous hostelry and entered its gorgeous, ghost-haunted halls. He beat back the nausea, and, seizing a tray from dead hands, hurried into the street and ate ravenously, hiding to keep out the sights. "Yesterday, they would not have served me," he whispered, as he forced the food down. Then he started up the street,––looking, peering, telephoning, ringing alarms; silent, silent all. Was nobody––nobody––he dared not think the thought and hurried on. Suddenly he stopped still. He had forgotten. My God! How could he have forgotten? He must rush to the subway––then he almost laughed. No––a car; if he could find a Ford. He saw one. Gently he lifted off its burden, and took his place on the seat. He tested the throttle. There was gas. He glided off, shivering, and drove up the street. Everywhere stood, leaned, lounged, and lay the dead, in grim and awful silence. On he ran past an automobile, wrecked and overturned; past another, filled with a gay party whose smiles yet lingered on their death-struck lips; on past crowds and groups of cars, pausing by dead policemen; at 42nd Street he had to detour to Park Avenue to avoid the dead congestion. He came back on Fifth Avenue at 57th and flew past the Plaza and by the park with its hushed babies and silent throng, until as he was rushing past 72nd Street he heard a sharp cry, and saw a living form leaning wildly out an upper window. He gasped. The human voice sounded in his ears like the voice of God. train car model speed gasoline "Hello––hello––help, in God's name!" wailed the woman. "There's a dead girl in here and a man and––and see yonder dead men lying in the street and dead horses––for the love of God go and bring the officers–––" And the words trailed off into hysterical tears. He wheeled the car in a sudden circle, running over the still body of a child and leaping on the curb. Then he rushed up the steps and tried the door and rang violently. There was a long pause, but at last the heavy door swung back. They stared a moment in silence. She had not noticed before that he was a Negro. He had not thought of her as white. She was a woman of perhaps twenty-five––rarely beautiful and richly gowned, with darkly-golden hair, and jewels. Yesterday, he thought with bitterness, she would scarcely have looked at him twice. He would have been dirt beneath her silken feet. She stared at him. Of all the sorts of men she had pictured as coming to her rescue she had not dreamed of one like him. Not that he was not human, but he dwelt in a world so far from hers, so infinitely far, that he seldom even entered her thought. Yet as she looked at him curiously he seemed quite commonplace and usual. He was a tall, dark workingman of the better class, with a sensitive face trained to stolidity and a poor man's clothes and hands. His face was soft and slow and his manner at once cold and nervous, like fires long banked, but not out. driving death So a moment each paused and gauged the other; then the thought of the dead world without rushed in and they started toward each other. "What has happened?" she cried. "Tell me! Nothing stirs. All is silence! I see the dead strewn before my window as winnowed by the breath of God,––and see––––" She dragged him through great, silken hangings to where, beneath the sheen of mahogany and silver, a little French maid lay stretched in quiet, everlasting sleep, and near her a butler lay prone in his livery. The tears streamed down the woman's cheeks and she clung to his arm until the perfume of her breath swept his face and he felt the tremors racing through her body. "I had been shut up in my dark room developing pictures of the comet which I took last night; when I came out––I saw the dead! "What has happened?" she cried again. He answered slowly: "Something––comet or devil––swept across the earth this morning and––many are dead!" "Many? Very many?" "I have searched and I have seen no other living soul but you." She gasped and they stared at each other. "My––father!" she whispered. "Where is he?" "He started for the office." "Where is it?" "In the Metropolitan Tower." "Leave a note for him here and come." Then he stopped. "No," he said firmly––"first, we must go––to Harlem." "Harlem!" she cried. Then she understood. She tapped her foot at first impatiently. She looked back and shuddered. Then she came resolutely down the steps. "There's a swifter car in the garage in the court," she said. "I don't know how to drive it," he said. "I do," she answered. car model skill In ten minutes they were flying to Harlem on the wind. The Stutz rose and raced like an airplane. They took the turn at 110th Street on two wheels and slipped with a shriek into l35th. speed He was gone but a moment. Then he returned, and his face was gray. She did not look, but said: "You have lost––somebody?" "I have lost––everybody," he said, simply––" unless––––" He ran back and was gone several minutes––hours they seemed to her. "Everybody," he said, and he walked slowly back with something film-like in his hand which he stuffed into his pocket. "I'm afraid I was selfish," he said. But already the car was moving toward the park among the dark and lined dead of Harlem––the brown, still faces, the knotted hands, the homely garments, and the silence––the wild and haunting silence. Out of the park, and down Fifth Avenue they whirled. In and out among the dead they slipped and quivered, needing no sound of bell or horn, until the great, square Metropolitan Tower hove in sight. Gently he laid the dead elevator boy aside; the car shot upward. The door of the office stood open. On the threshold lay the stenographer, and, staring at her, sat the dead clerk. The inner office was empty, but a note lay on the desk, folded and addressed but unsent: speed Dear Daughter: I've gone for a hundred mile spin in Fred's new Mercedes. Shall not be back before dinner. I'll bring Fred with me. J. B. H. car model pleasure "Come," she cried nervously. "We must search the city." Up and down, over and across, back again––on went that ghostly search. Everywhere was silence and death––death and silence! They hunted from Madison Square to Spuyten Duyvel; they rushed across the Williamsburg Bridge; they swept over Brooklyn; from the Battery and Morningside Heights they scanned the river. Silence, silence everywhere, and no human sign. Haggard and bedraggled they puffed a third time slowly down Broadway, under the broiling sun, and at last stopped. He sniffed the air. An odor––a smell––and with the shifting breeze a sickening stench filled their nostrils and brought its awful warning. The girl settled back helplessly in her seat. speed "What can we do?" she cried. It was his turn now to take the lead, and he did it quickly. "The long distance telephone––the telegraph and the cable––night rockets and then––flight!" She looked at him now with strength and confidence. He did not look like men, as she had always pictured men; but he acted like one and she was content. In fifteen minutes they were at the central telephone exchange. As they came to the door he stepped quickly before her and pressed her gently back as he closed it. She heard him moving to and fro, and knew his burdens––the poor, little burdens he bore. When she entered, he was alone in the room. The grim switchboard flashed its metallic face in cryptic, sphinx-like immobility. She seated herself on a stool and donned the bright earpiece. She looked at the mouthpiece. She had never looked at one so closely before. It was wide and black, pimpled with usage; inert; dead; almost sarcastic in its unfeeling curves. It looked––she beat back the thought––but it looked,––it persisted in looking like––she turned her head and found herself alone. One moment she was terrified; then she thanked him silently for his delicacy and turned resolutely, with a quick intaking of breath. "Hello!" she called in low tones. She was calling to the world. The world must answer. Would the world answer? Was the world–– Silence! She had spoken too low. "Hello!" she cried, full-voiced. She listened. Silence! Her heart beat quickly. She cried in clear, distinct, loud tones: "Hello––hello––hello!" What was that whirring? Surely––no––was it the click of a receiver? She bent close, she moved the pegs in the holes, and called and called, until her voice rose almost to a shriek, and her heart hammered. It was as if she had heard the last flicker of creation, and the evil was silence. Her voice dropped to a sob. She sat stupidly staring into the black and sarcastic mouthpiece, and the thought came again. Hope lay dead within her. Yes, the cable and the rockets remained; but the world––she could not frame the thought or say the word. It was too mighty––too terrible! She turned toward the door with a new fear in her heart. For the first time she seemed to realize that she was alone in the world with a stranger, with something more than a stranger,––with a man alien in blood and culture––unknown, perhaps unknowable. It was awful! She must escape––she must fly; he must not see her again. Who knew what awful thoughts–– She gathered her silken skirts deftly about her young, smooth limbs––listened, and glided into a sidehall. A moment she shrank back: the hall lay filled with dead women; then she leaped to the door and tore at it, with bleeding fingers, until it swung wide. She looked out. He was standing at the top of the alley,––silhouetted, tall and black, motionless. Was he looking at her or away? She did not know––she did not care. She simply leaped and ran––ran until she found herself alone amid the dead and the tall ramparts of towering buildings. She stopped. She was alone. Alone! Alone on the streets––alone in the city––perhaps alone in the world! There crept in upon her the sense of deception––of creeping hands behind her back––of silent, moving things she could not see,––of voices hushed in fearsome conspiracy. She looked behind and sideways, started at strange sounds and heard still stranger, until every nerve within her stood sharp and quivering, stretched to scream at the barest touch. She whirled and flew back, whimpering like a child, until she found that narrow alley again and the dark, silent figure silhouetted at the top. She stopped and rested; then she walked silently toward him, looked at him timidly; but he said nothing as he handed her into the car. Her voice caught as she whispered: "Not––that." And he answered slowly: "No––not that!" They climbed into the car. She bent forward on the wheel and sobbed, with great, dry, quivering sobs, as they flew toward the cable office on the east side, leaving the world of wealth and prosperity for the world of poverty and work. In the world behind them were death and silence, grave and grim, almost cynical, but always decent; here it was hideous. It clothed itself in every ghastly form of terror, struggle, hate, and suffering. It lay wreathed in crime and squalor, greed and lust. Only in its dread and awful silence was it like to death everywhere. car car part Yet as the two, flying and alone, looked upon the horror of the world, slowly, gradually, the sense of all-enveloping death deserted them. They seemed to move in a world silent and asleep,––not dead. They moved in quiet reverence, lest somehow they wake these sleeping forms who had, at last, found peace. They moved in some solemn, world-wide Friedhof, above which some mighty arm had waved its magic wand. All nature slept until––until, and quick with the same startling thought, they looked into each other's eyes––he, ashen, and she, crimson, with unspoken thought. To both, the vision of a mighty beauty––of vast, unspoken things, swelled in their souls; but they put it away. Great, dark coils of wire came up from the earth and down from the sun and entered this low lair of witchery. The gathered lightnings of the world centered here, binding with beams of light the ends of the earth. The doors gaped on the gloom within. He paused on the threshold. "Do you know the code?" she asked. "I know the call for help––we used it formerly at the bank." She hardly heard. She heard the lapping of the waters far below,––the dark and restless waters––the cold and luring waters, as they called. He stepped within. Slowly she walked to the wall, where the water called below, and stood and waited. Long she waited, and he did not come. Then with a start she saw him, too, standing beside the black waters. Slowly he removed his coat and stood there silently. She walked quickly to him and laid her hand on his arm. He did not start or look. The waters lapped on in luring, deadly rhythm. He pointed down to the waters, and said quietly: "The world lies beneath the waters now––may I go?" She looked into his stricken, tired face, and a great pity surged within her heart. She answered in a voice clear and calm, "No." Upward they turned toward life again, and he seized the wheel. The world was darkening to twilight, and a great, gray pall was falling mercifully and gently on the sleeping dead. The ghastly glare of reality seemed replaced with the dream of some vast romance. The girl lay silently back, as the motor whizzed along, and looked half-consciously for the elf-queen to wave life into this dead world again. She forgot to wonder at the quickness with which he had learned to drive her car. It seemed natural. And then as they whirled and swung into Madison Square and at the door of the Metropolitan Tower she gave a low cry, and her eyes were great! Perhaps she had seen the elf-queen? car part sound skill safety driver The man led her to the elevator of the tower and deftly they ascended. In her father's office they gathered rugs and chairs, and he wrote a note and laid it on the desk; then they ascended to the roof and he made her comfortable. For a while she rested and sank to dreamy somnolence, watching the worlds above and wondering. Below lay the dark shadows of the city and afar was the shining of the sea. She glanced at him timidly as he set food before her and took a shawl and wound her in it, touching her reverently, yet tenderly. She looked up at him with thankfulness in her eyes, eating what he served. He watched the city. She watched him. He seemed very human,––very near now. "Have you had to work hard?" she asked softly. “Always," he said. "I have always been idle," she said. "I was rich." "I was poor," he almost echoed. "The rich and the poor are met together," she began, and he finished: "The Lord is the Maker of them all." "Yes," she said slowly; "and how foolish our human distinctions seem––now," looking down to the great dead city stretched below, swimming in unlightened shadows. "Yes––I was not––human, yesterday," he said. She looked at him. “And your people were not my people," she said; "but today––––" She paused. He was a man,–no more; but he was in some larger sense a gentleman,—sensitive, kindly, chivalrous, everything save his hands and–his face. Yet yesterday–– "Death, the leveler!" he muttered. “And the revealer," she whispered gently, rising to her feet with great eyes. He turned away, and after fumbling a moment sent a rocket into the darkening air. It arose, shrieked, and flew up, a slim path of light, and, scattering its stars abroad, dropped on the city below. She scarcely noticed it. A vision of the world had risen before her. Slowly the mighty prophecy of her destiny overwhelmed her. Above the dead past hovered the Angel of Annunciation. She was no mere woman. She was neither high nor low, white nor black, rich nor poor. She was primal woman; mighty mother of all men to come and Bride of Life. She looked upon the man beside her and forgot all else but his manhood, his strong, vigorous manhood––his sorrow and sacrifice. She saw him glorified. He was no longer a thing apart, a creature below, a strange outcast of another clime and blood, but her Brother Humanity incarnate, Son of God and great All-Father of the race to be. He did not glimpse the glory in her eyes, but stood looking outward toward the sea and sending rocket after rocket into the unanswering darkness. Dark-purple clouds lay banked and billowed in the west. Behind them and all around, the heavens glowed in dim, weird radiance that suffused the darkening world and made almost a minor music. Suddenly, as though gathered back in some vast hand, the great cloud-curtain fell away. Low on the horizon lay a long, white star––mystic, wonderful! And from it fled upward to the pole, like some wan bridal veil, a pale, wide sheet of flame that lighted all the world and dimmed the stars. In fascinated silence the man gazed at the heavens and dropped his rockets to the floor. Memories of memories stirred to life in the dead recesses of his mind. The shackles seemed to rattle and fall from his soul. Up from the crass and crushing and cringing of his caste leaped the lone majesty of kings long dead. He arose within the shadows, tall, straight, and stern, with power in his eyes and ghostly scepters hovering to his grasp. It was as though some mighty Pharaoh lived again, or curled Assyrian lord. He turned and looked upon the lady, and found her gazing straight at him. Silently, immovably, they saw each other face to face––eye to eye. Their souls lay naked to the night. It was not lust; it was not love—it was some vaster, mightier thing that needed neither touch of body nor thrill of soul. It was a thought divine, splendid. Slowly, noiselessly, they moved toward each other––the heavens above, the seas around, the city grim and dead below. He loomed from out the velvet shadows vast and dark. Pearl-white and slender, she shone beneath the stars. She stretched her jeweled hands abroad. He lifted up his mighty arms, and they cried each to the other, almost with one voice, "The world is dead." "Long live the––––" "Honk! Honk!" Hoarse and sharp the cry of a motor drifted clearly up from the silence below. They started backward with a cry and gazed upon each other with eyes that faltered and fell, with blood that boiled. sound "Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk!" came the mad cry again, and almost from their feet a rocket blazed into the air and scattered its stars upon them. She covered her eyes with her hands, and her shoulders heaved. He dropped and bowed, groped blindly on his knees about the floor. A blue flame spluttered lazily after an age, and she heard the scream of an answering rocket as it flew. sound onomatopoeia Then they stood still as death, looking to opposite ends of the earth. "Clang—crash—clang!" The roar and ring of swift elevators shooting upward from below made the great tower tremble. A murmur and babel of voices swept in upon the night. All over the once dead city the lights blinked, flickered, and flamed; and then with a sudden clanging of doors the entrance to the platform was filled with men, and one with white and flying hair rushed to the girl and lifted her to his breast. "My daughter!" he sobbed. Behind him hurried a younger, comelier man, carefully clad in motor costume, who bent above the girl with passionate solicitude and gazed into her staring eyes until they narrowed and dropped and her face flushed deeper and deeper crimson. "Julia," he whispered; "my darling, I thought you were gone forever." She looked up at him with strange, searching eyes. "Fred," she murmured, almost vaguely, "is the world––gone?" "Only New York," he answered; "it is terrible––awful! You know,––but you, how did you escape––how have you endured this horror? Are you well? Unharmed?" "Unharmed!" she said. “And this man here?" he asked, encircling her drooping form with one arm and turning toward the Negro. Suddenly he stiffened and his hand flew to his hip. "Why!" he snarled. "It's––a––nigger––Julia! Has he––has he dared––––" She lifted her head and looked at her late companion curiously and then dropped her eyes with a sigh. "He has dared––all, to rescue me," she said quietly, "and I––thank him––much." But she did not look at him again. As the couple turned away, the father drew a roll of bills from his pockets. "Here, my good fellow," he said, thrusting the money into the man's hands, "take that,––what's your name?" "Jim Davis," came the answer, hollow-voiced. "Well, Jim, I thank you. I've always liked your people. If you ever want a job, call on me." And they were gone. The crowd poured up and out of the elevators, talking and whispering. "Who was it?" “Are they alive?" "How many?" "Two!" "Who was saved?" “A white girl and a nigger––there she goes." “A nigger? Where is he? Let's lynch the damned––—" "Shut up––he's all right––he saved her." "Saved hell! He had no business––––" "Here he comes." Into the glare of the electric lights the colored man moved slowly, with the eyes of those that walk and sleep. "Well, what do you think of that?" cried a bystander; "of all New York, just a white girl and a nigger!" The colored man heard nothing. He stood silently beneath the glare of the light, gazing at the money in his hand and shrinking as he gazed; slowly he put his other hand into his pocket and brought out a baby's filmy cap, and gazed again. A woman mounted to the platform and looked about, shading her eyes. She was brown, small, and toil-worn, and in one arm lay the corpse of a dark baby. The crowd parted and her eyes fell on the colored man; with a cry she tottered toward him. "Jim!" He whirled and, with a sob of joy, caught her in his arms. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Fraser, Vonard Genre Poetry Journal or Book Motor Land Publisher - Year of Publication 1922 Pages 16 Additional information - Through the forest aisles to the silver sea, To the crest of the sun-kissed hills, As the motor sings on the Open Road And the heart of all nature thrills. forest ocean topography music sound personification road scenery There’s a subtle lure in the summer air, Wherever the road may lead, And a power that throbs with the pulsing gears— What a joy in the Age of Speed! car part power speed pleasure road personification haptic summer There’s a pleasure here that our fathers knew At the pull of the dappled greys, Or the Roman lord with his Arab steed As he basked in the public gaze. animal From the snow-clad peaks of the Siskiyous To the warmth of the southern sun, Over roads that wind through the marts of trade, Does the traffic of pleasure run. snow sunshine driving mountain scenery traffic pleasure And we laugh at Time as the tardy Hours In their gallop from Day’s red dawn Are outdistanced far in the swift-sped race By this product of brain and brawn. animal metaphor technology car speed lt’s the key to health and a newer life, Where the treasures of Nature lie, As the seasons pass from the Spring’s sweet breath To the chill of the Winter's sigh. health spring winter And the dream of man is a broader dream With the span of his life’s increase, And the throbbing pulse of the motor car Bears him nearer the haunts of Peace. health agency haptic car And the country calls to the city-bred, "Come away from the fields of strife, For a breath of air from the snow-clad peaks In the traffic of Joy is Life.” rural urban traffic +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Fraser, Vonard Genre Poetry Journal or Book Motor Land Publisher - Year of Publication 1922 Pages 24 Additional information - There's a strident call in the Open Road Where the Spring's glad message lies, And the motor sings me a joyous song With a lilt of the azure skies. car sound music personification pleasure road sky spring O’er the ribboned line of the Great Highway, Where the wildflower carpet's laid, Where the poppy opens her golden cup As a symbol of Spring arrayed. highway plant metaphor road spring Through the forests, born in an ancient day, With their banks of moss and bloom, And the bordered aisles of the canyons dim Where the giant Redwoods loom. forest tree plant Then o'er hill and dale to the realm of snow, To the mirrored lakes and rills, While the skylark's call from the meadows green Can be heard on a thousand hills. snow lake animal sound For the feverish press in this Game of Life What a balm does Nature bear! What a draught of health in the new-turned earth, What a change from the realm of Care! O, the key to much that the world loves best Can be found beside the way, If your motor sings you a joyous song At the dawn of a bright spring day. car personification pleasure music sound springtion pleasure music sound spring +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Frost, Robert Genre Poetry Journal or Book New Hampshire. A Poem with Notes and Grace Notes Publisher Henry Holt Year of Publication 1923 Pages 109 Additional information - tree road metaphor (To hear us talk) The tree the tempest with a crash of wood Throws down in front of us is not to bar Our passage to our journey's end for good, But just to ask us who we think we are tree navigation personification Insisting always on our own way so. She likes to halt us in our runner tracks, And make us get down in a foot of snow Debating what to do without an axe. road condition risk tree personification equipment And yet she knows obstruction is in vain: We will not be put off the final goal We have it hidden in us to attain, Not though we have to seize earth by the pole And, tired of aimless circling in one place, Steer straight off after something into space. agency driving safetypace. agency driving safety +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Gladding, Effie P. Genre Non-Fiction Journal or Book Across the Continent by the Lincoln Highway Publisher Brentano's Year of Publication 1915 Pages vii-36 Additional information - Introduction [ edit | edit source ] A FOREWORD THAT IS A RETROSPECT (vii-ix) From the Pacific to the Atlantic by the Lincoln Highway, with California and the Virginias and Maryland thrown in for good measure! What a tour it has been! As we think back over its miles we recall the noble pines and the towering Sequoias of the high Sierras of California; the flashing water-falls of the Yosemite, so green as to be called Vernal, so white as to be called Bridal Veil; the orchards of the prune, the cherry, the walnut, the olive, the almond, the fig, the orange, and the lemon, tilled like a garden, watered by the hoarded and guarded streams from the everlasting hills; and the rich valleys of grain, running up to the hillsides and dotted by live oak trees. We recall miles of vineyard under perfect cultivation. We see again the blue of the Pacific and the green of the forest cedars and cypresses. High Lake Tahoe spreads before us, with its southern fringe of emerald meadows and forest pines, and its encircling guardians, lofty and snow-capped. The high, grey-green deserts of Nevada, Utah, and Wyoming stretch before us once more, and we can smell the clean, pungent sage brush. We are not lonely, for life is all about us. The California quail and blue-jay, the eagle, the ground squirrel, the gopher, the coyote, the antelope, the rattlesnake, the big ring snake, the wild horse of the plains, the jack rabbit, the meadow lark, the killdeer, the red-winged blackbird, the sparrow hawk, the thrush, the redheaded wood-pecker, the grey dove, all have been our friends and companions as we have gone along. We have seen them in their native plains and forests and from the safe vantage point of the front seat of our motor car. animal car desert driving East highway infrastructure mountain ocean plains road safety scenery smell tree West vision The lofty peaks of the Rockies have towered before us in a long, unbroken chain as we have looked at them from the alfalfa fields of Colorado. scenery We have seen the bread and the cornbread of a nation growing on the rolling prairies of Nebraska, Iowa, and Illinois. We have crossed the green, pastoral stretches of Indiana and Ohio and Pennsylvania. The red roads of Virginia, winding among her laden orchards of apples and peaches and pears and her lush forests of oak and pine; the yellow roads of Maryland, passing through her fertile fields and winding in and out among the thousand water ways of her coast line, all come before us. These are precious possessions of experience and memory, the choice, intimate knowledge to which the motorist alone can attain. agriculture coast forest Midwest road road condition tree The Friends of the Open Road are ours; the homesteader in his white canopied prairie schooner, the cattleman on his pony, the passing fellow motorist, the ranchman at his farmhouse door, the country inn-keeper hospitably speeding us on our way. affect driver metaphor pleasure We have a new conception of our great country; her vastness, her varied scenery, her prosperity, her happiness, her boundless resources, her immense possibilities, her kindness and hopefulness. We are bound to her by a thousand new ties of acquaintance, of association, and of pride. The Lincoln Highway is already what it is intended to be, a golden road of pleasure and usefulness, fitly dedicated, and destined to inspire a great patriotism and to honour a great patriot. highway infrastructure road sublime October, 1914. ... city scenery West Chapter II [ edit | edit source ] (22-36) In the heart of San Francisco stands a tall, slender iron pillar, with a bell hanging from its down-turned top, like a lily drooping on its stalk. This bell is a northern guide post of the famous El Camino Real, the old highway of the Spanish monks and monasteries on which still stand the ruins of the ancient Mission churches and cloisters. We purpose to drive south the entire length of the six hundred miles of El Camino Real; and then turning northward to cross the mountain backbone of the State of California, and to come up through the vast and fertile stretches of its western valleys, meeting the Lincoln Highway at the town of Stockton. driving highway infrastructure mountain navigation scenery It is the morning of the 21st of April when we swing around the graceful bell, run along Market Street to the Masonic Temple, turn left into Mission Road, and from Mission Road come again into El Camino Real. We first pass through the usual fringe of cheap houses, road saloons, and small groceries that surrounds a great city. Then comes a group of the city's cemeteries, "Cypress Grove," "Home of Peace," and others. We have a bumpy road in leaving the city, followed by a fine stretch of smooth, beautiful cement highway. On through rolling green country we drive, and into the suburb of Burlingame with its vine covered and rose embowered bungalows, and its houses of brown shingle and of stucco. The finer places sit far back from the road in aristocratic privacy, with big, grassy parks shaded by noble trees in front, and with the green foothills as a background. architecture class driving infrastructure plant road road condition road side tree navigation highway At San Mateo, a town with the usual shaven and parked immaculateness of highclass suburbs, we have luncheon in a simple little pastry shop. The woman who gaily serves us with excellent ham sandwiches, cake, and coffee, tells us that she is from Alsace-Lorraine. She and her husband have found their way to California. From San Mateo we drive to Palo Alto, where we spend some time in visiting Leland Stanford University. The University buildings of yellow sandstone with their warm red tiled roofs look extremely well in the southern sun. Here are no hills and inequalities. All the buildings stand on perfectly level ground, the situation well suited to the long colonnades and the level lines of the buildings themselves. It is worth the traveler's while to walk through the long cloisters and to visit the rich and beautiful church, whose restoration from the ravages of the earthquake is about completed. With its tiling and mosaic work, its striking mottoes upon the walls, and its fine windows, it is very like an Italian church. architecture infrastructure class driving urban The town of Palo Alto is a pretty little settlement, depending upon the University for its life. From Palo Alto we drive on into the Santa Clara Valley. We are too late to see the fruit trees in bloom, a unique sight; but the valley stretches before us in all its exquisite greenness and freshness after the spring rains. Miles of fruit trees, as carefully pruned and weeded and as orderly in every detail as a garden, are on every side of us. Prune trees, cherry trees, and apricot trees; there are thousands of them, in a most beautiful state of cultivation and fruitfulness. No Easterner who has seen only the somewhat untidy and carelessly cultivated orchards of the East can imagine the exquisite order and detailed cultivation of the California fruit orchards. We saw miles of such orchards always in the same perfect condition. Not a leaf, not a branch, not a weed is left in these orchards. They are plowed and harrowed, sprayed and pruned, down to the last corner of every orchard, and the last branch of every tree. agriculture driving plant road side tree Through the clean aisles, between the green rows, run the channels for the precious water that has traveled from the mountains to the plains to turn tens of thousands of acres into a fair and fruitful garden. agriculture mountain plains The Santa Clara Valley is one of the loveliest valleys of all California, and indeed of all the world. Set amid its orchards are tasteful houses and bungalows, commodious and architecturally pleasing; very different from the box-like farmhouses of the Middle West and the East. On either side rise high green hills. It is a picture of beauty wherever one looks. architecture At Santa Clara, on our way to San José, we stop to see the Santa Clara Mission, just at the edge of the town. All that remains of the first Mission is enclosed within a wall, the new church and the flourishing new school standing next to the enclosure. architecture city road side In the middle of the valley is the city of San José, an active, bustling town, full of life and business. We spent a pleasant day at the Hotel Vendome, an old-fashioned and delightful hostel, surrounded by a park of fine trees and flowering shrubs. The Vendome is a good place in which to rest and bask in the sunshine. When we next motor through the Santa Clara Valley, we shall visit the New Almaden quicksilver mine, twelve miles from San José, and commanding from its slopes a wondrous view of the valley and the Garden City, as San José is called. And there is the interesting trip from San José to Mt. Hamilton and the Lick Observatory. One can motor by a good road to the summit of the mountain, 4,209 feet above sea level, and spend the night at the hotel below on the mountain slope. city driving infrastructure mountain road road condition Leaving San José, we were more and more charmed with the valley as we drove along through orderly orchards and past tasteful bungalows. This was the California of laden orchards, of roses and climbing geraniums, of green hills rising beyond the valleys, of which we had read. As we approached the foot hills of the Santa Cruz Mountains we looked back and saw the green valley with its ranks of trees unrolled below us. Passing through the little town of Los Gatos (The Cats), we began to climb. As we turned a curve on the winding mountain road, the green expanses of the Happy Valley were lost to view. We were coming now into the region of immense pine trees and of the coast redwoods, the Sequoia sempervirens. The road was fair but very winding, requiring close attention. We crossed singing brooks and passed wayside farms high in the hills, with their little patches of orchard and grain. We saw a big signboard indicating the two-mile road to the Montezuma Ranch School for boys, and shortly after were at the top of the grade. Then came the descent, the road still winding in and out among the forests. At the Hotel de Redwood, a simple hostel for summer sojourners from the valleys, we saw a magnificent clump of redwoods, around which had been built a rustic seat. At the foot of the hill we turned left instead of right, thus omitting from our itinerary the town of Santa Cruz and the redwoods of the Big Basin. We hope to see this noble group of trees sometime in the future. We took luncheon in a little at café at Watsonville. When I asked the young German waiter for steamed clams he said, "Oh! you mean dem big fellers!" From Watsonville, a bright little town, we drove on toward Salinas, making a detour which took us around the town instead of directly through it. We were crossing the green plains of the Salinas Valley, and before us rose the dark wooded heights of the famous Monterey Peninsula. On through the town of Monterey to Pacific Grove, a mile beyond, and we were soon resting in an ideal bungalow watched over by two tall pines. What a memorable week we spent at "Woodwardia"! A quarter of a mile to our right was the sea, whose sound came up to us plainly on still nights. Less than a quarter of a mile to our left were the forest and the beginning of the Seventeen Mile Drive. We took the drive once and again, paying the seventy-five cent entrance fee at the gate of the Pacific Improvement Company's domain, thus becoming free to wander about in the great wooded territory of the Peninsula. We took luncheon at the picturesque Pebble Lodge, where we had soup served in shining abalone shells, and where the electric lights were shaded by these shells. We halted in leisurely fashion along the Drive to climb over the rocks and to scramble up the high dunes, with their riot of flowering beach peas. They were ideal places to sit and dream with the blue sea before one and the dark forest behind. We photographed the wind-swept cypress trees, beaten and twisted into witchlike shapes by the free Pacific breezes. We watched the seals, lazily basking in the sun on the rocks off shore. We visited the picturesque village of Carmel, where artists and writers consort. We selected, under the spell of all this beauty, numerous sites for bungalows on exquisite Carmel Bay, where one might enjoy forever and a day the fascination of the sea and the spell of the pine forests. agriculture driving forest mountain navigation ocean risk road road condition road side scenery tree We visited the Carmel Mission, now standing lonely and silent in the midst of green fields. A few of the old pear trees planted by the Mission fathers still maintain a gnarled and aged existence in an orchard across the road from the church. The church is a simple structure with an outside flight of adobe steps, such as one sees in Italian houses, running up against the wall to the bell tower. At the left of the altar are the graves of three priests, one being that of Father Junípero Serra, the founder of many of the Missions, the devoted Spanish priest and statesman who more than once walked the entire length of six hundred miles along which his Missions were planted. A wall pulpit stands out from the right wall of the church. The most touching thing in the empty, dusty, neglected little place is a partly obliterated Spanish inscription on the wall of the small room to the left of the main body of the church. It is said to have been painted there by Father Serra himself, and reads, being translated: "Oh, Heart of Jesus, always shining and burning, illumine mine with Thy warmth and light." agriculture tree architecture road road side A memorable excursion was to Point Lobos beyond Carmel village, a rocky promontory running out like a wedge-shaped plateau into the sea. One approaches the sea across exquisite green, turfy spaces, shaded by pine trees, to find the point of the wedge far above the water, cut by rocky and awesome gashes into which the waves run with a long rush and against whose walls they boom continually. The quiet woods of Point Lobos do not prepare one for the magnificence of its outlook and the wonderful sight of its great rocks rising ruggedly and precipitously far above the water. I have seen the entire three hundred miles of the French and Italian Riviera, having motored all along that enchanting coast; and I am free to say that Point Lobos is as fine a bit of scenery as one will find, not only on the Pacific Coast but along the Mediterranean shore. scenery coast driving forest sublime Point Lobos was purchased a number of years ago by a Pacific Grove gentleman who had an eye for its rare beauty and grandeur, and who has built for himself a modest home on a green meadow at the entrance to the promontory. A small admission fee is charged for the Point, largely to exclude those who in former days, when the Point was free to excursionists, abused this privilege. class The owner has established on a little cove a short distance from his house an abalone canning factory. Here the Japanese and other divers bring their boat loads of this delicious shellfish. Monterey Bay is the home of the abalone and it has been so ruthlessly fished for that new laws have had to be made to protect it. The big, soft creature, as large as a tea plate, fastens itself to rocks and other surfaces, its one shell protecting it from above. The diver slips under it his iron spatula, and by a quick and skillful twist detaches it from its firm anchorage. Abalone soup has a delicate flavor, really superior to clam soup. Both the exterior and the lining of the abalone shell have most exquisite coloring and are capable of a high polish. In the lining of the shell there is often found the beautiful blister or abalone pearl, formed by the same process as the oyster pearl, the animal throwing out a secretion at the point where it is irritated. The result is a blister on the smooth lining of the shell which when cut out and polished shows beautiful coloring, ranging from satiny yellow to changing greens. We spent an hour in wandering about the canning factory, looking over heaps of cast-off shells, admiring their beautiful lining, and choosing some to carry with us across country to a far distant home. That many of the shells had had marketable blisters was shown by little squares cut in the lining. Another drive was that across Salinas Valley, through the bright and prosperous town of Salinas, up the steep San Juan grade, where one may eat luncheon on a green slope commanding a lovely view, and down into the little old town of San Juan, where stands the mission of San Juan Baptista, with its long cloisters still intact. Next to the Mission is an open square which is said to have been the scene of bull fights in the old Spanish days. driving road side A day was spent in driving over the Salinas road and the Rancho del Monte road, on through a lovely valley, up over the mountain along a shelf-like road, and down into Carmel Valley; then along another mountain road by a stream, and up again to the lush meadows of a private ranch twelve hundred feet above the sea. We left the car at the foot of the hill and drove in a farm wagon to the ranch house. We visited the vineyard on a sunny slope back of the house, so sheltered that grapes grow by the ton. We climbed into heavy Mexican saddles, ornately stamped, with high pommel and back, and rode astride sturdy horses over steep rounding hills through thick grass to view points where we could look down on Carmel Valley and off to the silvery sea. As we retraced our journey in the afternoon sunlight, a bobcat came out from the forest and trotted calmly ahead of us. A beautiful deer ran along the stream, his ears moving with alarm, his eyes watching us with fear and wonder. A great snake lay curled in the middle of the road and we ran over him before we really saw him. He made a feeble attempt to coil, but the heavy machine finished him. He was only a harmless ring snake, whose good office it is to kill the gophers that destroy the fruit trees, so we were sorry we had ended his useful career. He was the first of many snakes that we killed in California. Sometimes they lay straight across our road; sometimes they were stretched out in the ruts of the road and our wheels went over them before we could possibly see them; sometimes they made frantic efforts, often successful, to escape our machine; we always gave them a fighting chance. agriculture animal car death driving mountain ocean risk river road road condition roadkill It seemed that we would never tear ourselves away from the Monterey Peninsula. We wandered through the beautiful grounds of the Hotel del Monte with their ancient live oaks. We walked and mused along the streets of Monterey, where Robert Louis Stevenson once walked and mused. We rejoiced in the sight of a lovely old Spanish house at the head of Polk Street, carefully kept up by its present owner. We saw the Sherman Rose cottage, the old home of Sherman's Spanish love, and the Sherman-Halleck quarters, and the old Hall of Records. We stopped to gaze at old adobe dwelling houses, some with thick walls roofed with tile around their yards; some with second floor galleries, supported by plain, slender wooden posts, roses clambering over them. We visited the San Carlos Mission on the edge of the town. Unlike the deserted little church at Carmel, San Carlos is in excellent repair, perfectly kept and in constant use. There they show you some of the old vestments said to be Father Serra's own. There you may see his silver mass cards, with their Latin inscriptions engraved upon the upright silver plate, reading: "In the beginning was the Word," etc. The same beaten silver water bucket which Father Serra used for holy water is to-day used by the incumbent priest. On the walls are the adoring angels which Father Serra taught the Indians to paint. One of the special treasures of the Mission is Father Serra's beautiful beaten gold chalice, a consecrated vessel touched only by the priests. Back of the church is kept as a precious possession the stump of the old oak tree under which Father Serra celebrated his first mass and took possession of California in the name of Spain. The spot where the oak tree stood, on the highway between Monterey and Pacific Grove, is marked by a modest stone just below Presidio Hill. highway architecture tree We browsed about the curio and gift shops of Monterey, and the "Lame Duck's Exchange" of Pacific Grove. We saw Asilomar (Retreat-by-the-Sea), the fine conference grounds of the Young Women's Christian Associations of the Pacific Coast, whose commodious assembly and living halls are the gift of Mrs. Phœbe Hearst. We learned the delicious flavor, on many picnics, of the California ripe olive. One might be dubious about the satisfying quality of Omar Khayam's bottle of wine and loaf of bread "underneath the bough." But with the loaf of bread and plenty of California olives one could be perfectly content. I could have a feast of Lucullus any day in California on abalone soup, with its delicate sea flavor, bread, and olives. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Hersey, Marie Louise Genre Poetry Journal or Book Modern Verse: British and American Publisher Henry Holt and Company Year of Publication 1921 Pages 159-161 Additional information - All summer in the close-locked streets the crowd Elbows its way past glittering shops to strains Of noisy rag-time, men and girls, dark skinned,— From warmer foreign waters they have come To our New England. Purring like sleek cats The cushioned motors of the rich crawl through While black-haired babies scurry to the curb: Pedro, Maria, little Gabriel Whose red bandana mothers selling fruit Have this in common with the fresh white caps Of those first immigrants—courage to leave Familiar hearths and build new memories. summer city zoomorphism sound east road traffic East sound personification affect African American Blood of their blood who shaped these sloping roofs And low arched doorways, laid the cobble stones Not meant for motors,—you and I rejoice When roof and spire sink deep into the night And all the little streets reach out their arms To be received into the salt-drenched dark. Then Provincetown comes to her own again, Draws round her like a cloak that shelters her From too swift changes of the passing years The dunes, the sea, the silent hilltop grounds Where solemn groups of leaning headstones hold Perpetual reunion of her dead. road surface cobblestone city personification road law urban car metaphor At dusk we feel our way along the wharf That juts into the harbor: anchored ships With lifting prow and slowly rocking mast Ink out their profiles; fishing dories scull With muffled lamps that glimmer through the spray; We hear the water plash among the piers Rotted with moss, long after sunset stay To watch the dim sky-changes ripple down The length of quiet ocean to our feet Till on the sea rim rising like a world Bigger than ours, and laying bare the ships In shadowy stillness, swells the yellow moon. other mobilities Between this blue intensity of sea And rolling dunes of white-hot sand that burn All day across a clean salt wilderness On shores grown sacred as a place of prayer, Shine bright invisible footsteps of a band Of firm-lipped men and women who endured Partings from kindred, hardship, famine, death, And won for us three hundred years ago A reverent proud freedom of the soul.oud freedom of the soul. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Jones, Joshua Henry Genre Poetry Journal or Book Poems of the Four Seas Publisher Books for Libraries Press Year of Publication 1921 Pages 3 Additional information - There are hill roads and dale roads, And roads that bind and twist; Some wide roads and cramped roads Which many souls have missed. There are blind roads and night roads That lead to where we fall. The long road's a hard road But the best road after all. road road condition metaphor Some good roads, some bad roads Are roads of dust and grime; Some rest roads and toil roads, Then some that lead to crime. The best road's the west road Which becks with quiet call. The straight road, though hard road, Is the best road after all. road condition metaphor dust West affect There's a love road and a hate road; And this last road trails to hell. There's a cool road; a clean road That leads by friendship's well. But the best road is the west road That calls us one and all. 'Tis a bright road—a right road And—the one road after all. road condition metaphor affect Westdition metaphor affect West +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Kilmer, Joyce Genre Poetry Journal or Book Main Street and Other Poems Publisher George H. Doran Company Year of Publication 1917 Pages 13-15 Additional information - I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea, But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used to be When it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow, And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go. road snow Now, Main Street bordered with autumn leaves, it was a pleasant thing, And its gutters were gay with dandelions early in the Spring; I like to think of it white with frost or dusty in the heat, Because I think it is humaner than any other street. fall plant road spring anthropomorphism A city street that is busy and wide is ground by a thousand wheels, And a burden of traffic on its breast is all it ever feels: It is dully conscious of weight and speed and of work that never ends, But it cannot be human like Main Street, and recognise its friends. urban traffic anthropomorphism haptic road There were only about a hundred teams on Main Street in a day, And twenty or thirty people, I guess, and some children out to play. And there wasn't a wagon or buggy, or a man or a girl or a boy That Main Street didn't remember, and somehow seem to enjoy. anthropomorphism road The truck and the motor and trolley car and the elevated train They make the weary city street reverberate with pain: But there is yet an echo left deep down within my heart Of the music the Main Street cobblestones made beneath a butcher's cart. urban affect road anthropomorphism music cobblestone road surface God be thanked for the Milky Way that runs across the sky, That's the path that my feet would tread whenever I have to die. Some folks call it a Silver Sword, and some a Pearly Crown, But the only thing I think it is, is Main Street, Heaventown. road sublimetown. road sublime +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Lewis, Sinclair Genre Fiction Journal or Book Free Air Publisher - Year of Publication 1919 Pages 3-118 Additional information - Chapter I [ edit | edit source ] driving risk road condition driving skill MISS BOLTWOOD OF BROOKLYN IS LOST IN THE MUD (3-9) When the windshield was closed it became so filmed with rain that Claire fancied she was piloting a drowned car in dim spaces under the sea. When it was open, drops jabbed into her eyes and chilled her cheeks. She was excited and thoroughly miserable. She realized that these Minnesota country roads had no respect for her polite experience on Long Island parkways. She felt like a woman, not like a driver. car car metaphor affect car part driving driving skill road driver rain But the Gomez-Dep roadster had seventy horsepower, and sang songs. Since she had left Minneapolis nothing had passed her. Back yonder a truck had tried to crowd her, and she had dropped into a ditch, climbed a bank, returned to the road, and after that the truck was not. Now she was regarding a view more splendid than mountains above a garden by the sea--a stretch of good road. To her passenger, her father, Claire chanted: car engine road road condition sound mountain "Heavenly! There's some gravel. We can make time. We'll hustle on to the next town and get dry." gravel road condition "Yes. But don't mind me. You're doing very well," her father sighed. Instantly, the dismay of it rushing at her, she saw the end of the patch of gravel. The road ahead was a wet black smear, criss-crossed with ruts. The car shot into a morass of prairie gumbo--which is mud mixed with tar, fly-paper, fish glue, and well-chewed, chocolate-covered caramels. When cattle get into gumbo, the farmers send for the stump-dynamite and try blasting. gravel car mud road car animal It was her first really bad stretch of road. She was frightened. Then she was too appallingly busy to be frightened, or to be Miss Claire Boltwood, or to comfort her uneasy father. She had to drive. Her frail graceful arms put into it a vicious vigor that was genius. driver road affect safety driving skill road condition When the wheels struck the slime, they slid, they wallowed. The car skidded. It was terrifyingly out of control. It began majestically to turn toward the ditch. She fought the steering wheel as though she were shadow-boxing, but the car kept contemptuously staggering till it was sideways, straight across the road. Somehow, it was back again, eating into a rut, going ahead. She didn't know how she had done it, but she had got it back. She longed to take time to retrace her own cleverness in steering. She didn't. She kept going. car part driving driving skill personification risk The car backfired, slowed. She yanked the gear from third into first. She sped up. The motor ran like a terrified pounding heart, while the car crept on by inches through filthy mud that stretched ahead of her without relief. car car part speed engine mud road surface driving She was battling to hold the car in the principal rut. She snatched the windshield open, and concentrated on that left rut. She felt that she was keeping the wheel from climbing those high sides of the rut, those six-inch walls of mud, sparkling with tiny grits. Her mind snarled at her arms, "Let the ruts do the steering. You're just fighting against them." It worked. Once she let the wheels alone they comfortably followed the furrows, and for three seconds she had that delightful belief of every motorist after every mishap, "Now that this particular disagreeableness is over, I'll never, never have any trouble again!" car car metaphor car part road condition affect But suppose the engine overheated, ran out of water? Anxiety twanged at her nerves. And the deep distinctive ruts were changing to a complex pattern, like the rails in a city switchyard. She picked out the track of the one motor car that had been through here recently. It was marked with the swastika tread of the rear tires. That track was her friend; she knew and loved the driver of a car she had never seen in her life. affect driver engine car part road driver She was very tired. She wondered if she might not stop for a moment. Then she came to an upslope. The car faltered; felt indecisive beneath her. She jabbed down the accelerator. Her hands pushed at the steering wheel as though she were pushing the car. The engine picked up, sulkily kept going. To the eye, there was merely a rise in the rolling ground, but to her anxiety it was a mountain up which she--not the engine, but herself--pulled this bulky mass, till she had reached the top, and was safe again--for a second. Still there was no visible end of the mud. driving car car part engine road surface mud mountain In alarm she thought, "How long does it last? I can't keep this up. I--Oh!" The guiding tread of the previous car was suddenly lost in a mass of heaving, bubble-scattered mud, like a batter of black dough. She fairly picked up the car, and flung it into that welter, through it, and back into the reappearing swastika-marked trail. car driving mud road condition Her father spoke: "You're biting your lips. They'll bleed, if you don't look out. Better stop and rest. "Can't! No bottom to this mud. Once stop and lose momentum--stuck for keeps!" driving mud She had ten more minutes of it before she reached a combination of bridge and culvert, with a plank platform above a big tile drain. With this solid plank bottom, she could stop. Silence came roaring down as she turned the switch. The bubbling water in the radiator steamed about the cap. Claire was conscious of tautness of the cords of her neck in front; of a pain at the base of her brain. Her father glanced at her curiously. "I must be a wreck. I'm sure my hair is frightful," she thought, but forgot it as she looked at him. His face was unusually pale. In the tumult of activity he had been betrayed into letting the old despondent look blur his eyes and sag his mouth. "Must get on," she determined. car part infrastructure metaphor Claire was dainty of habit. She detested untwisted hair, ripped gloves, muddy shoes. Hesitant as a cat by a puddle, she stepped down on the bridge. Even on these planks, the mud was three inches thick. It squidged about her low, spatted shoes. "Eeh!" she squeaked. infrastructure mud She tiptoed to the tool-box and took out a folding canvas bucket. She edged down to the trickling stream below. She was miserably conscious of a pastoral scene all gone to mildew--cows beneath willows by the creek, milkweeds dripping, dried mullein weed stalks no longer dry. The bank of the stream was so slippery that she shot down two feet, and nearly went sprawling. Her knee did touch the bank, and the skirt of her gray sports-suit showed a smear of yellow earth. equipment river rural scenery In less than two miles the racing motor had used up so much water that she had to make four trips to the creek before she had filled the radiator. When she had climbed back on the running-board she glared down at spats and shoes turned into gray lumps. She was not tearful. She was angry. car part engine affect "Idiot! Ought to have put on my rubbers. Well--too late now," she observed, as she started the engine. engine She again followed the swastika tread. To avoid a hole in the road ahead, the unknown driver had swung over to the side of the road, and taken to the intensely black earth of the edge of an unfenced cornfield. Flashing at Claire came the sight of a deep, water-filled hole, scattered straw and brush, débris of a battlefield, which made her gaspingly realize that her swastikaed leader had been stuck and-- road condition agriculture driving road rural And instantly her own car was stuck. car She had had to put the car at that hole. It dropped, far down, and it stayed down. The engine stalled. She started it, but the back wheels spun merrily round and round, without traction. She did not make one inch. When she again killed the blatting motor, she let it stay dead. She peered at her father. accident car engine metaphor personification He was not a father, just now, but a passenger trying not to irritate the driver. He smiled in a waxy way, and said, "Hard luck! Well, you did the best you could. The other hole, there in the road, would have been just as bad. You're a fine driver, dolly." driver passenger road condition driving skill Her smile was warm and real. "No. I'm a fool. You told me to put on chains. I didn't. I deserve it." equipment "Well, anyway, most men would be cussing. You acquire merit by not beating me. I believe that's done, in moments like this. If you'd like, I'll get out and crawl around in the mud, and play turtle for you." "No. I'm quite all right. I did feel frightfully strong-minded as long as there was any use of it. It kept me going. But now I might just as well be cheerful, because we're stuck, and we're probably going to stay stuck for the rest of this care-free summer day." equipment The weariness of the long strain caught her, all at once. She slipped forward, sat huddled, her knees crossed under the edge of the steering wheel, her hands falling beside her, one of them making a faint brushing sound as it slid down the upholstery. Her eyes closed; as her head drooped farther, she fancied she could hear the vertebrae click in her tense neck. car part sound Her father was silent, a misty figure in a lap-robe. The rain streaked the mica lights in the side-curtains. A distant train whistled desolately across the sodden fields. The inside of the car smelled musty. The quiet was like a blanket over the ears. Claire was in a hazy drowse. She felt that she could never drive again. car smell affect drive train Chapter II [ edit | edit source ] CLAIRE ESCAPES FROM RESPECTABILITY (10-20) Claire Boltwood lived on the Heights, Brooklyn. Persons from New York and other parts of the Middlewest have been known to believe that Brooklyn is somehow humorous. In newspaper jokes and vaudeville it is so presented that people who are willing to take their philosophy from those sources believe that the leading citizens of Brooklyn are all deacons, undertakers, and obstetricians. The fact is that North Washington Square, at its reddest and whitest and fanlightedest, Gramercy Park at its most ivied, are not so aristocratic as the section of Brooklyn called the Heights. Here preached Henry Ward Beecher. Here, in mansions like mausoleums, on the ridge above docks where the good ships came sailing in from Sourabaya and Singapore, ruled the lords of a thousand sails. And still is it a place of wealth too solid to emulate the nimble self-advertising of Fifth Avenue. Here dwell the fifth-generation possessors of blocks of foundries and shipyards. Here, in a big brick house of much dignity, much ugliness, and much conservatory, lived Claire Boltwood, with her widower father. Henry B. Boltwood was vice-president of a firm dealing in railway supplies. He was neither wealthy nor at all poor. Every summer, despite Claire's delicate hints, they took the same cottage on the Jersey Coast, and Mr. Boltwood came down for Sunday. Claire had gone to a good school out of Philadelphia, on the Main Line. She was used to gracious leisure, attractive uselessness, nut-center chocolates, and a certain wonder as to why she was alive. train She wanted to travel, but her father could not get away. He consistently spent his days in overworking, and his evenings in wishing he hadn't overworked. He was attractive, fresh, pink-cheeked, white-mustached, and nerve-twitching with years of detail. Claire's ambition had once been babies and a solid husband, but as various young males of the species appeared before her, sang their mating songs and preened their newly dry-cleaned plumage, she found that the trouble with solid young men was that they were solid. Though she liked to dance, the "dancing men" bored her. And she did not understand the district's quota of intellectuals very well; she was good at listening to symphony concerts, but she never had much luck in discussing the cleverness of the wood winds in taking up the main motif. It is history that she refused a master of arts with an old violin, a good taste in ties, and an income of eight thousand. The only man who disturbed her was Geoffrey Saxton, known throughout the interwoven sets of Brooklyn Heights as "Jeff." Jeff Saxton was thirty-nine to Claire's twenty-three. He was clean and busy; he had no signs of vice or humor. Especially for Jeff must have been invented the symbolic morning coat, the unwrinkable gray trousers, and the moral rimless spectacles. He was a graduate of a nice college, and he had a nice tenor and a nice family and nice hands and he was nicely successful in New York copper dealing. When he was asked questions by people who were impertinent, clever, or poor, Jeff looked them over coldly before he answered, and often they felt so uncomfortable that he didn't have to answer. The boys of Claire's own age, not long out of Yale and Princeton, doing well in business and jumping for their evening clothes daily at six-thirty, light o' loves and admirers of athletic heroes, these lads Claire found pleasant, but hard to tell apart. She didn't have to tell Jeff Saxton apart. He did his own telling. Jeff called—not too often. He sang—not too sentimentally. He took her father and herself to the theater—not too lavishly. He told Claire—in a voice not too serious—that she was his helmed Athena, his rose of all the world. He informed her of his substantial position—not too obviously. And he was so everlastingly, firmly, quietly, politely, immovably always there. She watched the hulk of marriage drifting down on her frail speed-boat of aspiration, and steered in desperate circles. Then her father got the nervous prostration he had richly earned. The doctor ordered rest. Claire took him in charge. He didn't want to travel. Certainly he didn't want the shore or the Adirondacks. As there was a branch of his company in Minneapolis, she lured him that far away. Being rootedly of Brooklyn Heights, Claire didn't know much about the West. She thought that Milwaukee was the capital of Minnesota. She was not so uninformed as some of her friends, however. She had heard that in Dakota wheat was to be viewed in vast tracts—maybe a hundred acres. Mr. Boltwood could not be coaxed to play with the people to whom his Minneapolis representative introduced him. He was overworking again, and perfectly happy. He was hoping to find something wrong with the branch house. Claire tried to tempt him out to the lakes. She failed. His nerve-fuse burnt out the second time, with much fireworks. Claire had often managed her circle of girls, but it had never occurred to her to manage her executive father save by indirect and pretty teasing. Now, in conspiracy with the doctor, she bullied her father. He saw gray death waiting as alternative, and he was meek. He agreed to everything. He consented to drive with her across two thousand miles of plains and mountains to Seattle, to drop in for a call on their cousins, the Eugene Gilsons. driving scenery Back East they had a chauffeur and two cars—the limousine, and the Gomez-Deperdussin roadster, Claire's beloved. It would, she believed, be more of a change from everything that might whisper to Mr. Boltwood of the control of men, not to take a chauffeur. Her father never drove, but she could, she insisted. His easy agreeing was pathetic. He watched her with spaniel eyes. They had the Gomez roadster shipped to them from New York. driver car model pleasure gender On a July morning, they started out of Minneapolis in a mist, and as it has been hinted, they stopped sixty miles northward, in a rain, also in much gumbo. Apparently their nearest approach to the Pacific Ocean would be this oceanically moist edge of a cornfield, between Schoenstrom and Gopher Prairie, Minnesota. fog rain road condition mud ***** Claire roused from her damp doze and sighed, "Well, I must get busy and get the car out of this." car affect accident "Don't you think you'd better get somebody to help us?" "But get who?" "Whom!" "No! It's just 'who,' when you're in the mud. No. One of the good things about an adventure like this is that I must do things for myself. I've always had people to do things for me. Maids and nice teachers and you, old darling! I suppose it's made me soft. Soft—I would like a soft davenport and a novel and a pound of almond-brittle, and get all sick, and not feel so beastly virile as I do just now. But——" mud accident affect She turned up the collar of her gray tweed coat, painfully climbed out—the muscles of her back racking—and examined the state of the rear wheels. They were buried to the axle; in front of them the mud bulked in solid, shiny blackness. She took out her jack and chains. It was too late. There was no room to get the jack under the axle. She remembered from the narratives of motoring friends that brush in mud gave a firmer surface for the wheels to climb upon. car part road condition mud equipment accident She also remembered how jolly and agreeably heroic the accounts of their mishaps had sounded—a week after they were over. She waded down the road toward an old wood-lot. At first she tried to keep dry, but she gave it up, and there was pleasure in being defiantly dirty. She tramped straight through puddles; she wallowed in mud. In the wood-lot was long grass which soaked her stockings till her ankles felt itchy. Claire had never expected to be so very intimate with a brush-pile. She became so. As though she were a pioneer woman who had been toiling here for years, she came to know the brush stick by stick—the long valuable branch that she could never quite get out from under the others; the thorny bough that pricked her hands every time she tried to reach the curious bundle of switches. Seven trips she made, carrying armfuls of twigs and solemnly dragging large boughs behind her. She patted them down in front of all four wheels. Her crisp hands looked like the paws of a three-year-old boy making a mud fort. Her nails hurt from the mud wedged beneath them. Her mud-caked shoes were heavy to lift. It was with exquisite self-approval that she sat on the running-board, scraped a car-load of lignite off her soles, climbed back into the car, punched the starter. mud haptic car part pleasure maintenance The car stirred, crept forward one inch, and settled back—one inch. The second time it heaved encouragingly but did not make quite so much headway. Then Claire did sob. affect accident She rubbed her cheek against the comfortable, rough, heather-smelling shoulder of her father's coat, while he patted her and smiled, "Good girl! I better get out and help." She sat straight, shook her head. "Nope. I'll do it. And I'm not going to insist on being heroic any longer. I'll get a farmer to pull us out." As she let herself down into the ooze, she reflected that all farmers have hearts of gold, anatomical phenomena never found among the snobs and hirelings of New York. The nearest heart of gold was presumably beating warmly in the house a quarter of a mile ahead. She came up a muddy lane to a muddy farmyard, with a muddy cur yapping at her wet legs, and geese hissing in a pool of purest mud serene. The house was small and rather old. It may have been painted once. The barn was large and new. It had been painted very much, and in a blinding red with white trimmings. There was no brass plate on the house, but on the barn, in huge white letters, was the legend, "Adolph Zolzac, 1913." She climbed by log steps to a narrow frame back porch littered with parts of a broken cream-separator. She told herself that she was simple and friendly in going to the back door instead of the front, and it was with gaiety that she knocked on the ill-jointed screen door, which flapped dismally in response. " Ja? " from within. She rapped again. " Hinein! " She opened the door on a kitchen, the highlight of which was a table heaped with dishes of dumplings and salt pork. A shirt-sleeved man, all covered with mustache and calm, sat by the table, and he kept right on sitting as he inquired: "Vell?" "My car—my automobile—has been stuck in the mud. A bad driver, I'm afraid! I wonder if you would be so good as to——" car accident mud road condition skill "I usually get t'ree dollars, but I dunno as I vant to do it for less than four. Today I ain'd feelin' very goot," grumbled the golden-hearted. Claire was aware that a woman whom she had not noticed—so much smaller than the dumplings, so much less vigorous than the salt pork was she—was speaking: " Aber , papa, dot's a shame you sharge de poor young lady dot, when she drive by sei self. Vot she t'ink of de Sherman people?" The farmer merely grunted. To Claire, "Yuh, four dollars. Dot's what I usually charge sometimes." "Usually? Do you mean to say that you leave that hole there in the road right along—that people keep on trying to avoid it and get stuck as I was? Oh! If I were an official——" road condition "Vell, I dunno, I don't guess I run my place to suit you smart alecks——" "Papa! How you talk on the young lady! Make shame!" "—from the city. If you don't like it, you stay bei Mineapolis! I haul you out for t'ree dollars and a half. Everybody pay dot. Last mont' I make forty-five dollars. They vos all glad to pay. They say I help them fine. I don't see vot you're kickin' about! Oh, these vimmins!" "It's blackmail! I wouldn't pay it, if it weren't for my father sitting waiting out there. But—go ahead. Hurry!" She sat tapping her toe while Zolzac completed the stertorous task of hogging the dumplings, then stretched, yawned, scratched, and covered his merely dirty garments with overalls that were apparently woven of processed mud. When he had gone to the barn for his team, his wife came to Claire. On her drained face were the easy tears of the slave women. "Oh, miss, I don't know vot I should do. My boys go on the public school, and they speak American just so goot as you. Oh, I vant man lets me luff America. But papa he says it is an Unsinn ; you got the money, he says, nobody should care if you are American or Old Country people. I should vish I could ride once in an automobile! But—I am so 'shamed, so 'shamed that I must sit and see my Mann make this. Forty years I been married to him, and pretty soon I die——" gender Claire patted her hand. There was nothing to say to tragedy that had outlived hope. Adolph Zolzac clumped out to the highroad behind his vast, rolling-flanked horses—so much cleaner and better fed than his wisp of a wife. Claire followed him, and in her heart she committed murder and was glad of it. While Mr. Boltwood looked out with mild wonder at Claire's new friend, Zolzac hitched his team to the axle. It did not seem possible that two horses could pull out the car where seventy horsepower had fainted. But, easily, yawning and thinking about dinner, the horses drew the wheels up on the mud-bank, out of the hole and animal car part The harness broke, with a flying mess of straps and rope, and the car plumped with perfect exactness back into its bed. car accident Chapter III [ edit | edit source ] A YOUNG MAN IN A RAINCOAT (21-35) "Huh! Such an auto! Look, it break my harness a'ready! Two dollar that cost you to mend it. De auto iss too heavy!" stormed Zolzac. car "All right! All right! Only for heaven's sake—go get another harness!" Claire shrieked. "Fife-fifty dot will be, in all." Zolzac grinned. Claire was standing in front of him. She was thinking of other drivers, poor people, in old cars, who had been at the mercy of this golden-hearted one. She stared past him, in the direction from which she had come. Another motor was in sight. driver class It was a tin beetle of a car; that agile, cheerful, rut-jumping model known as a "bug"; with a home-tacked, home-painted tin cowl and tail covering the stripped chassis of a little cheap Teal car. The lone driver wore an old black raincoat with an atrocious corduroy collar, and a new plaid cap in the Harry Lauder tartan. The bug skipped through mud where the Boltwoods' Gomez had slogged and rolled. Its pilot drove up behind her car, and leaped out. He trotted forward to Claire and Zolzac. His eyes were twenty-seven or eight, but his pink cheeks were twenty, and when he smiled—shyly, radiantly—he was no age at all, but eternal boy. Claire had a blurred impression that she had seen him before, some place along the road. car model affect driver mud car part "Stuck?" he inquired, not very intelligently. "How much is Adolph charging you?" "He wants three-fifty, and his harness broke, and he wants two dollars——" "Oh! So he's still working that old gag! I've heard all about Adolph. He keeps that harness for pulling out cars, and it always busts. The last time, though, he only charged six bits to get it mended. Now let me reason with him." The young man turned with vicious quickness, and for the first time Claire heard pidgin German—German as it is spoken between Americans who have never learned it, and Germans who have forgotten it: " Schon sex hundred times Ich höre all about the way you been doing autos, Zolzac, you verfluchter Schweinhund , and I'll set the sheriff on you——" "Dot ain'd true, maybe einmal die Woche kommt somebody and Ich muss die Arbeit immer lassen und in die Regen ausgehen, und seh' mal how die boots sint mit mud covered, two dollars it don't pay for dis boots——" "Now that's enough-plenty out of you, seien die boots verdammt , and mach' dass du fort gehst —muddy boots, hell!—put mal ein egg in die boots and beat it, verleicht maybe I'll by golly arrest you myself, weiss du ! I'm a special deputy sheriff." The young man stood stockily. He seemed to swell as his somewhat muddy hand was shaken directly at, under, and about the circumference of, Adolph Zolzac's hairy nose. The farmer was stronger, but he retreated. He took up the reins. He whined, "Don't I get nothing I break de harness?" "Sure. You get ten—years! And you get out!" From thirty yards up the road, Zolzac flung back, "You t'ink you're pretty damn smart!" That was his last serious reprisal. Clumsily, as one not used to it, the young man lifted his cap to Claire, showing straight, wiry, rope-colored hair, brushed straight back from a rather fine forehead. "Gee, I was sorry to have to swear and holler like that, but it's all Adolph understands. Please don't think there's many of the folks around here like him. They say he's the meanest man in the county." "I'm immensely grateful to you, but—do you know much about motors? How can I get out of this mud?" car mud She was surprised to see the youngster blush. His clear skin flooded. His engaging smile came again, and he hesitated, "Let me pull you out." She looked from her hulking car to his mechanical flea. car model metaphor He answered the look: "I can do it all right. I'm used to the gumbo—regular mud-hen. Just add my power to yours. Have you a tow-rope?" mud equipment "No. I never thought of bringing one." "I'll get mine." She walked with him back toward his bug. It lacked not only top and side-curtains, but even windshield and running-board. It was a toy—a card-board box on toothpick axles. Strapped to the bulging back was a wicker suitcase partly covered by tarpaulin. From the seat peered a little furry face. car model car part pleasure metaphor animal "A cat?" she exclaimed, as he came up with a wire rope, extracted from the tin back. animal car part equipment "Yes. She's the captain of the boat. I'm just the engineer." driver metaphor animal "What is her name?" Before he answered the young man strode ahead to the front of her car, Claire obediently trotting after him. He stooped to look at her front axle. He raised his head, glanced at her, and he was blushing again. car part "Her name is Vere de Vere!" he confessed. Then he fled back to his bug. He drove it in front of the Gomez-Dep. The hole in the road itself was as deep as the one on the edge of the cornfield, where she was stuck, but he charged it. She was fascinated by his skill. Where she would for a tenth of a second have hesitated while choosing the best course, he hurled the bug straight at the hole, plunged through with sheets of glassy black water arching on either side, then viciously twisted the car to the right, to the left, and straight again, as he followed the tracks with the solidest bottoms. driver skill car model road condition Strapped above the tiny angle-iron step which replaced his running-board was an old spade. He dug channels in front of the four wheels of her car, so that they might go up inclines, instead of pushing against the straight walls of mud they had thrown up. On these inclines he strewed the brush she had brought, halting to ask, with head alertly lifted from his stooped huddle in the mud, "Did you have to get this brush yourself?" car part mud "Yes. Horrid wet!" He merely shook his head in commiseration. He fastened the tow-rope to the rear axle of his car, to the front of hers. "Now will you be ready to put on all your power as I begin to pull?" he said casually, rather respectfully. equipment car part When the struggling bug had pulled the wire rope taut, she opened the throttle. The rope trembled. Her car seemed to draw sullenly back. Then it came out—out—really out, which is the most joyous sensation any motorist shall ever know. In excitement over actually moving again, as fast as any healthy young snail, she drove on, on, the young man ahead grinning back at her. Nor did she stop, nor he, till both cars were safe on merely thick mud, a quarter of a mile away. car model car part equipment pleasure road condition driving She switched off the power—and suddenly she was in a whirlwind of dizzy sickening tiredness. Even in her abandonment to exhaustion she noticed that the young man did not stare at her but, keeping his back to her, removed the tow-rope, and stowed it away in his bug. She wondered whether it was tact or yokelish indifference. equipment car model Her father spoke for the first time since the Galahad of the tin bug had come: "How much do you think we ought to give this fellow?" metaphor car model Now of all the cosmic problems yet unsolved, not cancer nor the future of poverty are the flustering questions, but these twain: Which is worse, not to wear evening clothes at a party at which you find every one else dressed, or to come in evening clothes to a house where, it proves, they are never worn? And: Which is worse, not to tip when a tip has been expected; or to tip, when the tip is an insult? In discomfort of spirit and wetness of ankles Claire shuddered, "Oh dear, I don't believe he expects us to pay him. He seems like an awfully independent person. Maybe we'd offend him if we offered——" "The only reasonable thing to be offended at in this vale of tears is not being offered money!" "Just the same—— Oh dear, I'm so tired. But good little Claire will climb out and be diplomatic." She pinched her forehead, to hold in her cracking brain, and wabbled out into new scenes of mud and wetness, but she came up to the young man with the most rain-washed and careless of smiles. "Won't you come back and meet my father? He's terribly grateful to you—as I am. And may we—— You've worked so hard, and about saved our lives. May I pay you for that labor? We're really much indebted——" "Oh, it wasn't anything. Tickled to death if I could help you." He heartily shook hands with her father, and he droned, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Uh." "Boltwood." "Mr. Boltwood. My name is Milt—Milton Daggett. See you have a New York license on your car. We don't see but mighty few of those through here. Glad I could help you." "Ah yes, Mr. Daggett." Mr. Boltwood was uninterestedly fumbling in his money pocket. Behind Milt Daggett, Claire shook her head wildly, rattling her hands as though she were playing castanets. Mr. Boltwood shrugged. He did not understand. His relations with young men in cheap raincoats were entirely monetary. They did something for you, and you paid them—preferably not too much—and they ceased to be. Whereas Milt Daggett respectfully but stolidly continued to be, and Mr. Henry Boltwood's own daughter was halting the march of affairs by asking irrelevant questions: "Didn't we see you back in—what was that village we came through back about twelve miles?" "Schoenstrom?" suggested Milt. "Yes, I think that was it. Didn't we pass you or something? We stopped at a garage there, to change a tire." garage "I don't think so. I was in town, though, this morning. Say, uh, did you and your father grab any eats——" "A——" "I mean, did you get dinner there?" "No. I wish we had!" "Well say, I didn't either, and—I'd be awfully glad if you folks would have something to eat with me now." Claire tried to give him a smile, but the best she could do was to lend him one. She could not associate interesting food with Milt and his mud-slobbered, tin-covered, dun-painted Teal bug. He seemed satisfied with her dubious grimace. By his suggestion they drove ahead to a spot where the cars could be parked on firm grass beneath oaks. On the way, Mr. Boltwood lifted his voice in dismay. His touch of nervous prostration had not made him queer or violent; he retained a touching faith in good food. driver driving car model "We might find some good little hotel and have some chops and just some mushrooms and peas," insisted the man from Brooklyn Heights. "Oh, I don't suppose the country hotels are really so awfully good," she speculated. "And look—that nice funny boy. We couldn't hurt his feelings. He's having so much fun out of being a Good Samaritan." From the mysterious rounded back of his car Milt Daggett drew a tiny stove, to be heated by a can of solidified alcohol, a frying pan that was rather large for dolls but rather small for square-fingered hands, a jar of bacon, eggs in a bag, a coffee pot, a can of condensed milk, and a litter of unsorted tin plates and china cups. While, by his request, Claire scoured the plates and cups, he made bacon and eggs and coffee, the little stove in the bottom of his car sheltered by the cook's bending over it. The smell of food made Claire forgiving toward the fact that she was wet through; that the rain continued to drizzle down her neck. He lifted his hand and demanded, "Take your shoes off!" "Uh?" He gulped. He stammered, "I mean—I mean your shoes are soaked through. If you'll sit in the car, I'll put your shoes up by the engine. It's pretty well heated from racing it in the mud. You can get your stockings dry under the cowl." engine driving mud car part She was amused by the elaborateness with which he didn't glance at her while she took off her low shoes and slipped her quite too thin black stockings under the protecting tin cowl. She reflected, "He has such a nice, awkward gentleness. But such bad taste! They're really quite good ankles. Apparently ankles are not done, in Teal bug circles. His sisters don't even have limbs. But do fairies have sisters? He is a fairy. When I'm out of the mud he'll turn his raincoat into a pair of lordly white wings, and vanish. But what will become of the cat?" car part car model metaphor Thus her tired brain, like a squirrel in a revolving cage, while she sat primly and scraped at a clot of rust on a tin plate and watched him put on the bacon and eggs. Wondering if cats were used for this purpose in the Daggett family, she put soaked, unhappy Vere de Vere on her feet, to her own great comfort and the cat's delight. It was an open car, and the rain still rained, and a strange young man was a foot from her tending the not very crackly fire, but rarely had Claire felt so domestic. car rain affect Milt was apparently struggling to say something. After several bobs of his head he ventured, "You're so wet! I'd like for you to take my raincoat." "No! Really! I'm already soaked through. You keep dry." He was unhappy about it. He plucked at a button of the coat. She turned him from the subject. "I hope Lady Vere de Vere is getting warm, too." "Seems to be. She's kind of demanding. She wanted a little car of her own, but I didn't think she could keep up with me, not on a long hike." car animal "A little car? With her paws on the tiny wheel? Oh—sweet! Are you going far, Mr. Daggett?" car car part animal "Yes, quite a ways. To Seattle, Washington." "Oh, really? Extraordinary. We're going there, too." "Honest? You driving all the way? Oh, no, of course your father——" "No, he doesn't drive. By the way, I hope he isn't too miserable back there." "I'll be darned. Both of us going to Seattle. That's what they call a coincidence, isn't it! Hope I'll see you on the road, some time. But I don't suppose I will. Once you're out of the mud, your Gomez will simply lose my Teal." car model "Not necessarily. You're the better driver. And I shall take it easy. Are you going to stay long in Seattle?" It was not merely a polite dinner-payment question. She wondered; she could not place this fresh-cheeked, unworldly young man so far from his home. skill driver "Why, I kind of hope—— Government railroad, Alaska. I'm going to try to get in on that, somehow. I've never been out of Minnesota in my life, but there's couple mountains and oceans and things I thought I'd like to see, so I just put my suitcase and Vere de Vere in the machine, and started out. I burn distillate instead of gas, so it doesn't cost much. If I ever happen to have five whole dollars, why, I might go on to Japan!" train metaphor resources gasoline "That would be jolly." "Though I s'pose I'd have to eat—what is it?—pickled fish? There's a woman from near my town went to the Orient as a missionary. From what she says, I guess all you need in Japan to make a house is a bottle of mucilage and a couple of old newspapers and some two-by-fours. And you can have the house on a purple mountain, with cherry trees down below, and——" He put his clenched hand to his lips. His head was bowed. "And the ocean! Lord! The ocean! And we'll see it at Seattle. Bay, anyway. And steamers there—just come from India! Huh! Getting pretty darn poetic here! Eggs are done." The young man did not again wander into visions. He was all briskness as he served her bacon and eggs, took a plate of them to Mr. Boltwood in the Gomez, gouged into his own. Having herself scoured the tin plates, Claire was not repulsed by their naked tinniness; and the coffee in the broken-handled china cup was tolerable. Milt drank from the top of a vacuum bottle. He was silent. Immediately after the lunch he stowed the things away. Claire expected a drawn-out, tact-demanding farewell, but he climbed into his bug, said "Good-by, Miss Boltwood. Good luck!" and was gone. car model The rainy road was bleakly empty without him. rain road condition It did not seem possible that Claire's body could be nagged into going on any longer. Her muscles were relaxed, her nerves frayed. But the moment the Gomez started, she discovered that magic change which every long-distance motorist knows. Instantly she was alert, seemingly able to drive forever. The pilot's instinct ruled her; gave her tireless eyes and sturdy hands. Surely she had never been weary; never would be, so long as it was hers to keep the car going. car model pleasure driver skill She had driven perhaps six miles when she reached a hamlet called St. Klopstock. On the bedraggled mud-and-shanty main street a man was loading crushed rock into a truck. By him was a large person in a prosperous raincoat, who stepped out, held up his hand. Claire stopped. road condition mud truck "You the young lady that got stuck in that hole by Adolph Zolzac's?" accident road condition "Yes. And Mr. Zolzac wasn't very nice about it." "He's going to be just elegant about it, now, and there ain't going to be any more hole. I think Adolph has been keeping it muddy—throwing in soft dirt—and he made a good and plenty lot out of pulling out tourists. Bill and I are going down right now and fill it up with stone. Milt Daggett come through here—he's got a nerve, that fellow, but I did have to laugh—he says to me, 'Barney——' This was just now. He hasn't more than just drove out of town. He said to me, 'Barney,' he says, 'you're the richest man in this township, and the banker, and you got a big car y'self, and you think you're one whale of a political boss,' he says, 'and yet you let that Zolzac maintain a private ocean, against the peace and damn horrible inconvenience of the Commonwealth of Minnesota——' He's got a great line of talk, that fellow. He told me how you got stuck—made me so ashamed—I been to New York myself—and right away I got Bill, and we're going down and hold a donation and surprise party on Adolph and fill that hole." mud road condition accident "But won't Adolph dig it out again?" The banker was puffy, but his eyes were of stone. From the truck he took a shotgun. He drawled, "In that case, the surprise party will include an elegant wake." "But how did—— Who is this extraordinary Milt Daggett?" "Him? Oh, nobody 'specially. He's just a fellow down here at Schoenstrom. But we all know him. Goes to all the dances, thirty miles around. Thing about him is: if he sees something wrong, he picks out some poor fellow like me, and says what he thinks." Claire drove on. She was aware that she was looking for Milt's bug. It was not in sight. driving car model "Father," she exclaimed, "do you realize that this lad didn't tell us he was going to have the hole filled? Just did it. He frightens me. I'm afraid that when we reach Gopher Prairie for the night, we'll find he has engaged for us the suite that Prince Collars and Cuffs once slept in." "Hhhhmm," yawned her father. "Curious young man. He said, 'Pleased to meet you.'" "Huuuuhhm! Fresh air makes me so sleepy." "And—— Fooled you! Got through that mudhole, anyway! And he said—— Look! Fields stretch out so here, and not a tree except the willow-groves round those farmhouses. And he said 'Gee' so many times, and 'dinner' for the noon meal. And his nails—— No, I suppose he really is just a farm youngster." skill class Mr. Boltwood did not answer. His machine-finish smile indicated an enormous lack of interest in young men in Teal bugs. car model Chapter IV [ edit | edit source ] A ROOM WITHOUT (36-48) Gopher Prairie has all of five thousand people. Its commercial club asserts that it has at least a thousand more population and an infinitely better band than the ridiculously envious neighboring town of Joralemon. But there were few signs that a suite had been engaged for the Boltwoods, or that Prince Collars and Cuffs had on his royal tour of America spent much time in Gopher Prairie. Claire reached it somewhat before seven. She gaped at it in a hazy way. Though this was her first prairie town for a considerable stay, she could not pump up interest. The state of mind of the touring motorist entering a strange place at night is as peculiar and definite as that of a prospector. It is compounded of gratitude at having got safely in; of perception of a new town, yet with all eagerness about new things dulled by weariness; of hope that there is going to be a good hotel, but small expectation—and absolutely no probability—that there really will be one. driver metaphor affect Claire had only a blotched impression of peaked wooden buildings and squatty brick stores with faded awnings; of a red grain elevator and a crouching station and a lumberyard; then of the hopelessly muddy road leading on again into the country. She felt that if she didn't stop at once, she would miss the town entirely. The driving-instinct sustained her, made her take corners sharply, spot a garage, send the Gomez whirling in on the cement floor. mud road condition skill car model personification visibility garage The garage attendant looked at her and yawned. garage "Where do you want the car?" Claire asked sharply. "Oh, stick it in that stall," grunted the man, and turned his back. Claire glowered at him. She thought of a good line about rudeness. But—oh, she was too tired to fuss. She tried to run the car into the empty stall, which was not a stall, but a space, like a missing tooth, between two cars, and so narrow that she was afraid of crumpling the lordly fenders of the Gomez. She ran down the floor, returned with a flourish, thought she was going to back straight into the stall—and found she wasn't. While her nerves shrieked, and it did not seem possible that she could change gears, she managed to get the Gomez behind a truck and side-on to the stall. car part parking affect "Go forward again, and cramp your wheel—sharp!" ordered the garage man. parking car part Claire wanted to outline what she thought of him, but she merely demanded, "Will you kindly drive it in?" affect parking "Why, sure. You bet," said the man casually. His readiness ruined her inspired fury. She was somewhat disappointed. As she climbed out of the car and put a hand on the smart bags strapped on a running-board, the accumulated weariness struck her in a shock. She could have driven on for hours, but the instant the car was safe for the night, she went to pieces. Her ears rang, her eyes were soaked in fire, her mouth was dry, the back of her neck pinched. It was her father who took the lead as they rambled to the one tolerable hotel in the town. car part driver affect In the hotel Claire was conscious of the ugliness of the poison-green walls and brass cuspidors and insurance calendars and bare floor of the office; conscious of the interesting scientific fact that all air had been replaced by the essence of cigar smoke and cooking cabbage; of the stares of the traveling men lounging in bored lines; and of the lack of welcome on the part of the night clerk, an oldish, bleached man with whiskers instead of a collar. She tried to be important: "Two rooms with bath, please." The bleached man stared at her, and shoved forward the register and a pen clotted with ink. She signed. He took the bags, led the way to the stairs. Anxiously she asked, "Both rooms are with bath?" From the second step the night clerk looked down at her as though she were a specimen that ought to be pinned on the corks at once, and he said loudly, "No, ma'am. Neither of 'em. Got no rooms vacant with bawth, or bath either! Not but what we got 'em in the house. This is an up-to-date place. But one of 'm's took, and the other has kind of been out of order, the last three-four months." From the audience of drummers below, a delicate giggle. Claire was too angry to answer. And too tired. When, after miles of stairs, leagues of stuffy hall, she reached her coop, with its iron bed so loose-jointed that it rattled to a breath, its bureau with a list to port, and its anemic rocking-chair, she dropped on the bed, panting, her eyes closed but still brimming with fire. It did not seem that she could ever move again. She felt chloroformed. She couldn't even coax herself off the bed, to see if her father was any better off in the next room. She was certain that she was not going to drive to Seattle. She wasn't going to drive anywhere! She was going to freight the car back to Minneapolis, and herself go back by train—Pullman!—drawing-room! driver train bus affect But for the thought of her father she would have fallen asleep, in her drenched tweeds. When she did force the energy to rise, she had to support herself by the bureau, by the foot of the bed, as she moved about the room, hanging up the wet suit, rubbing herself with a slippery towel, putting on a dark silk frock and pumps. She found her father sitting motionless in his room, staring at the wall. She made herself laugh at him for his gloomy emptiness. She paraded down the hall with him. As they reached the foot of the stairs, the old one, the night clerk leaned across the desk and, in a voice that took the whole office into the conversation, quizzed, "Come from New York, eh? Well, you're quite a ways from home." Claire nodded. She felt shyer before these solemnly staring traveling men than she ever had in a box at the opera. At the double door of the dining-room, from which the cabbage smell steamed with a lustiness undiminished by the sad passing of its youth, a man, one of the average-sized, average-mustached, average business-suited, average-brown-haired men who can never be remembered, stopped the Boltwoods and hawed, "Saw you coming into town. You've got a New York license?" She couldn't deny it. "Quite a ways from home, aren't you?" She had to admit it. She was escorted by a bouncing, black-eyed waitress to a table for four. The next table was a long one, at which seven traveling men, or local business men whose wives were at the lake for the summer, ceased trying to get nourishment out of the food, and gawped at her. Before the Boltwoods were seated, the waitress dabbed at non-existent spots on their napkins, ignored a genuine crumb on the cloth in front of Claire's plate, made motions at a cup and a formerly plated fork, and bubbled, "Autoing through?" car driving Claire fumbled for her chair, oozed into it, and breathed, "Yes." "Going far?" "Yes." "Where do you live?" "New York." "My! You're quite a ways from home, aren't you?" "Apparently." "Hamnegs roasbeef roaspork thapplesauce frypickerel springlamintsauce." "I—I beg your pardon." The waitress repeated. "I—oh—oh, bring us ham and eggs. Is that all right, father?" "Oh—no—well——" "You wanted same?" the waitress inquired of Mr. Boltwood. He was intimidated. He said, "If you please," and feebly pawed at a fork. The waitress was instantly back with soup, and a collection of china gathered by a man of much travel, catholic interests, and no taste. One of the plates alleged itself to belong to a hotel in Omaha. She pushed a pitcher of condensed milk to the exact spot where it would catch Mr. Boltwood's sleeve, brushed the crumb from in front of Claire to a shelter beneath the pink and warty sugar bowl, recovered a toothpick which had been concealed behind her glowing lips, picked for a while, gave it up, put her hands on her hips, and addressed Claire: "How far you going?" "To Seattle." "Got any folks there?" "Any—— Oh, yes, I suppose so." "Going to stay there long?" "Really—— We haven't decided." "Come from New York, eh? Quite a ways from home, all right. Father in business there?" "Yes." "What's his line?" "I beg pardon?" "What's his line? Ouch! Jiminy, these shoes pinch my feet. I used to could dance all night, but I'm getting fat, I guess, ha! ha! Put on seven pounds last month. Ouch! Gee, they certainly do pinch my toes. What business you say your father's in?" "I didn't say, but—— Oh, railroad." train "G. N. or N. P.?" "I don't think I quite understand——" Mr. Boltwood interposed, "Are the ham and eggs ready?" "I'll beat it out and see." When she brought them, she put a spoon in Claire's saucer of peas, and demanded, "Say, you don't wear that silk dress in the auto, do you?" driver "No." "I should think you'd put a pink sash on it. Seems like it's kind of plain—it's a real pretty piece of goods, though. A pink sash would be real pretty. You dark-complected ladies always looks better for a touch of color." Then was Claire certain that the waitress was baiting her, for the amusement of the men at the long table. She exploded. Probably the waitress did not know there had been an explosion when Claire looked coldly up, raised her brows, looked down, and poked the cold and salty slab of ham, for she was continuing: "A light-complected lady like me don't need so much color, you notice my hair is black, but I'm light, really, Pete Liverquist says I'm a blonde brunette, gee, he certainly is killing that fellow, oh, he's a case, he sure does like to hear himself talk, my! there's Old Man Walters, he runs the telephone exchange here, I heard he went down to St. Cloud on Number 2, but I guess he couldn't of, he'll be yodeling for friend soup and a couple slabs of moo, I better beat it, I'll say so, so long." Claire's comment was as acid as the pale beets before her, as bitter as the peas, as hard as the lumps in the watery mashed potatoes: "I don't know whether the woman is insane or ignorant. I wish I could tell whether she was trying to make me angry for the benefit of those horrid unshaven men, or merely for her private edification." "By me, dolly. So is this pie. Let's get some medium to levitate us up to bed. Uh—uh—— I think perhaps we'd better not try to drive clear to Seattle. If we just went through to Montana?—or even just to Bismarck?" "Drive through with the hotels like this? My dear man, if we have one more such day, we stop right there. I hope we get by the man at the desk. I have a feeling he's lurking there, trying to think up something insulting to say to us. Oh, my dear, I hope you aren't as beastly tired as I am. My bones are hot pokers." The man at the desk got in only one cynical question, "Driving far?" before Claire seized her father's arm and started him upstairs. For the first time since she had been ten—and in a state of naughtiness immediately following a pronounced state of grace induced by the pulpit oratory of the new rector of St. Chrysostom's—she permitted herself the luxury of not stopping to brush her teeth before she went to bed. Her sleep was drugged—it was not sleep, but an aching exhaustion of the body which did not prevent her mind from revisualizing the road, going stupidly over the muddy stretches and sharp corners, then becoming conscious of that bed, the lump under her shoulder blades, the slope to westward, and the creak that rose every time she tossed. For at least fifteen minutes she lay awake for hours. driver affect road Thus Claire Boltwood's first voyage into democracy. It was not so much that the sun was shining, in the morning, as that a ripple of fresh breeze came through the window. She discovered that she again longed to go on—keep going on—see new places, conquer new roads. She didn't want all good road. She wanted something to struggle against. She'd try it for one more day. She was stiff as she crawled out of bed, but a rub with cold water left her feeling that she was stronger than she ever had been; that she was a woman, not a dependent girl. Already, in the beating prairie sun-glare, the wide main street of Gopher Prairie was drying; the mud ruts flattening out. Beyond the town hovered the note of a meadow lark—sunlight in sound. driver affect gender road condition mud "Oh, it's a sweet morning! Sweet! We will go on! I'm terribly excited!" she laughed. She found her father dressed. He did not know whether or not he wanted to go on. "I seem to have lost my grip on things. I used to be rather decisive. But we'll try it one more day, if you like," he said. When she had gaily marched him downstairs, she suddenly and unhappily remembered the people she would have to face, the gibing questions she would have to answer. The night clerk was still at the desk, as though he had slept standing. He hailed them. "Well, well! Up bright and early! Hope you folks slept well. Beds aren't so good as they might be, but we're kind of planning to get some new mattresses. But you get pretty good air to sleep in. Hope you have a fine hike today." His voice was cordial; he was their old friend; faithful watcher of their progress. Claire found herself dimpling at him. In the dining-room their inquisitional acquaintance, the waitress, fairly ran to them. "Sit down, folks. Waffles this morning. You want to stock up for your drive. My, ain't it an elegant morning! I hope you have a swell drive today!" "Why!" Claire gasped, "why, they aren't rude. They care—about people they never saw before. That's why they ask questions! I never thought—I never thought! There's people in the world who want to know us without having looked us up in the Social Register! I'm so ashamed! Not that the sunshine changes my impression of this coffee. It's frightful! But that will improve. And the people—they were being friendly, all the time. Oh, Henry B., young Henry Boltwood, you and your godmother Claire have a lot to learn about the world!" As they came into the garage, their surly acquaintance of the night before looked just as surly, but Claire tried a boisterous "Good morning!" garage "Mornin'! Going north? Better take the left-hand road at Wakamin. Easier going. Drive your car out for you?" parking As the car stood outside taking on gas, a man flapped up, spelled out the New York license, looked at Claire and her father, and inquired, "Quite a ways from home, aren't you?" gasoline gas station This time Claire did not say "Yes!" She experimented with, "Yes, quite a ways." "Well, hope you have a good trip. Good luck!" Claire leaned her head on her hand, thought hard. "It's I who wasn't friendly," she propounded to her father. "How much I've been losing. Though I still refuse to like that coffee!" She noticed the sign on the air-hose of the garage—"Free Air." garage "There's our motto for the pilgrimage!" she cried. religion metaphor She knew the exaltation of starting out in the fresh morning for places she had never seen, without the bond of having to return at night. Thus Claire's second voyage into democracy. While she was starting the young man who had pulled her out of the mud and given her lunch was folding up the tarpaulin and blankets on which he had slept beside his Teal bug, in the woods three miles north of Gopher Prairie. To the high-well-born cat, Vere de Vere, Milt Daggett mused aloud, "Your ladyship, as Shakespeare says, the man that gets cold feet never wins the girl. And I'm scared, cat, clean scared." car model Chapter V [ edit | edit source ] RELEASE BRAKES—SHIFT TO THIRD (49-65) Milt Daggett had not been accurate in his implication that he had not noticed Claire at a garage in Schoenstrom. For one thing, he owned the garage. garage Milt was the most prosperous young man in the village of Schoenstrom. Neither the village itself nor the nearby Strom is really schoen . The entire business district of Schoenstrom consists of Heinie Rauskukle's general store, which is brick; the Leipzig House, which is frame; the Old Home Poolroom and Restaurant, which is of old logs concealed by a frame sheathing; the farm-machinery agency, which is galvanized iron, its roof like an enlarged washboard; the church; the three saloons; and the Red Trail Garage, which is also, according to various signs, the Agency for Teal Car Best at the Test, Stonewall Tire Service Station, Sewing Machines and Binders Repaired, Dr. Hostrum the Veterinarian every Thursday, Gas Today 27c. The Red Trail Garage is of cement and tapestry brick. In the office is a clean hardwood floor, a typewriter, and a picture of Elsie Ferguson. The establishment has an automatic rim-stretcher, a wheel jack, and a reputation for honesty. The father of Milt Daggett was the Old Doctor, born in Maine, coming to this frontier in the day when Chippewas camped in your dooryard, and came in to help themselves to coffee, which you made of roasted corn. The Old Doctor bucked northwest blizzards, read Dickens and Byron, pulled people through typhoid, and left to Milt his shabby old medicine case and thousands of dollars—in uncollectible accounts. Mrs. Daggett had long since folded her crinkly hands in quiet death. Milt had covered the first two years of high school by studying with the priest, and been sent to the city of St. Cloud for the last two years. His father had meant to send him to the state university. But Milt had been born to a talent for machinery. At twelve he had made a telephone that worked. At eighteen he was engineer in the tiny flour mill in Schoenstrom. At twenty-five, when Claire Boltwood chose to come tearing through his life in a Gomez-Dep, Milt was the owner, manager, bookkeeper, wrecking crew, ignition expert, thoroughly competent bill-collector, and all but one of the working force of the Red Trail Garage. car model garage There were two factions in Schoenstrom: the retired farmers who said that German was a good enough language for anybody, and that taxes for schools and sidewalks were yes something crazy; and the group who stated that a pig-pen is a fine place, but only for pigs. To this second, revolutionary wing belonged a few of the first generation, most of the second, and all of the third; and its leader was Milt Daggett. He did not talk much, normally, but when he thought things ought to be done, he was as annoying as a machine-gun test in the lot next to a Quaker meeting. If there had been a war, Milt would probably have been in it—rather casual, clearing his throat, reckoning and guessing that maybe his men might try going over and taking that hill ... then taking it. But all of this history concerns the year just before America spoke to Germany; and in this town buried among the cornfields and the wheat, men still thought more about the price of grain than about the souls of nations. On the evening before Claire Boltwood left Minneapolis and adventured into democracy, Milt was in the garage. He wore union overalls that were tan where they were not grease-black; a faded blue cotton shirt; and the crown of a derby, with the rim not too neatly hacked off with a dull toad-stabber jack-knife. garage Milt smiled at his assistant, Ben Sittka, and suggested, "Well, wie geht 's mit the work, eh? Like to stay and get the prof's flivver out, so he can have it in the morning?" mechanic car model "You bet, boss." "Getting to be quite a mechanic, Ben." mechanic "I'll say so!" "If you get stuck, come yank me out of the Old Home." "Aw rats, boss. I'll finish it. You beat it." Ben grinned at Milt adoringly. Milt stripped off his overalls and derby-crown, and washed his big, firm hands with gritty soft soap. He cleaned his nails with a file which he carried in his upper vest pocket in a red imitation morocco case which contained a comb, a mirror, an indelible pencil, and a note-book with the smudged pencil addresses of five girls in St. Cloud, and a memorandum about Rauskukle's car. He put on a twisted brown tie, an old blue serge suit, and a hat which, being old and shabby, had become graceful. He ambled up the street. He couldn't have ambled more than three blocks and have remained on the street. Schoenstrom tended to leak off into jungles of tall corn. Two men waved at him, and one demanded, "Say, Milt, is whisky good for the toothache? What d' you think! The doc said it didn't do any good. But then, gosh, he's only just out of college." "I guess he's right." "Is that a fact! Well, I'll keep off it then." Two stores farther on, a bulky farmer hailed, "Say, Milt, should I get an ensilage cutter yet?" "Yuh," in the manner of a man who knows too much to be cocksure about anything, "I don't know but what I would, Julius." "I guess I vill then." Minnie Rauskukle, plump, hearty Minnie, heiress to the general store, gave evidence by bridling and straightening her pigeon-like body that she was aware of Milt behind her. He did not speak to her. He ducked into the door of the Old Home Poolroom and Restaurant. Milt ranged up to the short lunch counter, in front of the pool table where two brick-necked farm youngsters were furiously slamming balls and attacking cigarettes. Loose-jointedly Milt climbed a loose-jointed high stool and to the proprietor, Bill McGolwey, his best friend, he yawned, "You might poison me with a hamburger and a slab of apple, Mac." "I'll just do that little thing. Look kind of grouchy tonight, Milt." "Too much excitement in this burg. Saw three people on the streets all simultaneously to-once." "What's been eatin' you lately?" "Me? Nothing. Only I do get tired of this metropolis. One of these days I'm going to buck some bigger place." "Try Gopher Prairie maybe?" suggested Mac, through the hiss and steam of the frying hamburger sandwich. "Rats. Too small." "Small? Why, there's darn near five thousand people there!" "I know, but—I want to tackle some sure-nuff city. Like Duluth or New York." "But what'd you do?" "That's the devil of it. I don't know just what I do want to do. I could always land soft in a garage, but that's nothing new. Might hit Detroit, and learn the motor-factory end." garage technology "Aw, you're the limit, Milt. Always looking for something new." "That's the way to get on. The rest of this town is afraid of new things. 'Member when I suggested we all chip in on a dynamo with a gas engine and have electric lights? The hicks almost died of nervousness." "Yuh, that's true, but—— You stick here, Milt. You and me will just nachly run this burg." "I'll say! Only—— Gosh, Mac, I would like to go to a real show, once. And find out how radio works. And see 'em put in a big suspension bridge!" Milt left the Old Home rather aimlessly. He told himself that he positively would not go back and help Ben Sittka get out the prof's car. So he went back and helped Ben get out the prof's car, and drove the same to the prof's. The prof, otherwise professor, otherwise mister, James Martin Jones, B.A., and Mrs. James Martin Jones welcomed him almost as noisily as had Mac. They begged him to come in. With Mr. Jones he discussed—no, ye Claires of Brooklyn Heights, this garage man and this threadbare young superintendent of a paintbare school, talking in a town that was only a comma on the line, did not discuss corn-growing, nor did they reckon to guess that by heck the constabule was carryin' on with the Widdy Perkins. They spoke of fish-culture, Elihu Root, the spiritualistic evidences of immortality, government ownership, self-starters for flivvers, and the stories of Irvin Cobb. mechanic car model Milt went home earlier than he wanted to. Because Mr. Jones was the only man in town besides the priest who read books, because Mrs. Jones was the only woman who laughed about any topics other than children and family sickness, because he wanted to go to their house every night, Milt treasured his welcome as a sacred thing, and kept himself from calling on them more than once a week. He stopped on his way to the garage to pet Emil Baumschweiger's large gray cat, publicly known as Rags, but to Milt and to the lady herself recognized as the unfortunate Countess Vere de Vere—perhaps the only person of noble ancestry and mysterious past in Milt's acquaintance. The Baumschweigers did not treat their animals well; Emil kicked the bay mare, and threw pitchforks at Vere de Vere. Milt saluted her and sympathized: "You have a punk time, don't you, countess? Like to beat it to Minneapolis with me?" The countess said that she did indeed have an extraordinarily punk time, and she sang to Milt the hymn of the little gods of the warm hearth. Then Milt's evening dissipations were over. Schoenstrom has movies only once a week. He sat in the office of his garage ruffling through a weekly digest of events. Milt read much, though not too easily. He had no desire to be a poet, an Indo-Iranian etymologist, a lecturer to women's clubs, or the secretary of state. But he did rouse to the marvels hinted in books and magazines; to large crowds, the mechanism of submarines, palm trees, gracious women. He laid down the magazine. He stared at the wall. He thought about nothing. He seemed to be fumbling for something about which he could deliciously think if he could but grasp it. Without quite visualizing either wall or sea, he was yet recalling old dreams of a moonlit wall by a warm stirring southern sea. If there was a girl in the dream she was intangible as the scent of the night. Presently he was asleep, a not at all romantic figure, rather ludicrously tipped to one side in his office chair, his large solid shoes up on the desk. He half woke, and filtered to what he called home—one room in the cottage of an oldish woman who had prejudices against the perilous night air. He was too sleepy to go through any toilet save pulling off his shoes, and achieving an unconvincing wash at the little stand, whose crackly varnish was marked with white rings from the toothbrush mug. "I feel about due to pull off some fool stunt. Wonder what it will be?" he complained, as he flopped on the bed. He was up at six, and at a quarter to seven was at work in the garage. He spent a large part of the morning in trying to prove to a customer that even a Teal car, best at the test, would not give perfect service if the customer persisted in forgetting to fill the oil-well, the grease-cups, and the battery. garage car part car model maintenance At three minutes after twelve Milt left the garage to go to dinner. The fog of the morning had turned to rain. McGolwey was not at the Old Home. Sometimes Mac got tired of serving meals, and for a day or two he took to a pocket flask, and among his former customers the cans of prepared meat at Rauskukle's became popular. Milt found him standing under the tin awning of the general store. He had a troubled hope of keeping Mac from too long a vacation with the pocket flask. But Mac was already red-eyed. He seemed only half to recognize Milt. "Swell day!" said Milt. "Y' bet." "Road darn muddy." road condition mud "I should worry. Yea, bo', I'm feelin' good!" At eleven minutes past twelve a Gomez-Dep roadster appeared down the road, stopped at the garage. To Milt it was as exciting as the appearance of a comet to a watching astronomer. car model affect "What kind of a car do you call that, Milt?" asked a loafer. car model "Gomez-Deperdussin." car model "Never heard of it. Looks too heavy." This was sacrilege. Milt stormed, "Why, you poor floof, it's one of the best cars in the world. Imported from France. That looks like a special-made American body, though. Trouble with you fellows is, you're always scared of anything that's new. Too—heavy! Huh! Always wanted to see a Gomez—never have, except in pictures. And I believe that's a New York license. Let me at it!" car model He forgot noon-hunger, and clumped through the rain to the garage. He saw a girl step from the car. He stopped, in the doorway of the Old Home, in uneasy shyness. He told himself he didn't "know just what it is about her—she isn't so darn unusually pretty and yet—gee—— Certainly isn't a girl to get fresh with. Let Ben take care of her. Like to talk to her, and yet I'd be afraid if I opened my mouth, I'd put my foot in it." garage He was for the first time seeing a smart woman. This dark, slender, fine-nerved girl, in her plain, rough, closely-belted, gray suit, her small black Glengarry cocked on one side of her smooth hair, her little kid gloves, her veil, was as delicately adjusted as an aeroplane engine. Milt wanted to trumpet her exquisiteness to the world, so he growled to a man standing beside him, "Swell car. Nice-lookin' girl, kind of." car model gender "Kind of skinny, though. I like 'em with some meat on 'em," yawned the man. No, Milt did not strike him to earth. He insisted feebly, "Nice clothes she's got, though." "Oh, not so muchamuch. I seen a woman come through here yesterday that was swell, though—had on a purple dress and white shoes and a hat big 's a bushel." "Well, I don't know, I kind of like those simple things," apologized Milt. He crept toward the garage. The girl was inside. He inspected the slope-topped, patent-leather motoring trunk on the rack at the rear of the Gomez-Dep. He noticed a middle-aged man waiting in the car. "Must be her father. Probably—maybe she isn't married then." He could not get himself to shout at the man, as he usually did. He entered the garage office; from the inner door he peeped at the girl, who was talking to his assistant about changing an inner tube. garage car part car model mechanic That Ben Sittka whom an hour ago he had cajoled as a promising child he now admired for the sniffing calmness with which he was demanding, "Want a red or gray tube?" car part mechanic "Really, I don't know. Which is the better?" The girl's voice was curiously clear. Milt passed Claire Boltwood as though he did not see her; stood at the rear of the garage kicking at the tires of a car, his back to her. Over and over he was grumbling, "If I just knew one girl like that—— Like a picture. Like—like a silver vase on a blue cloth!" car part Ben Sittka did not talk to the girl while he inserted the tube in the spare casing. Only, in the triumphant moment when the parted ends of the steel rim snapped back together, he piped, "Going far?" car part mechanic "Yes, rather. To Seattle." Milt stared at the cobweb-grayed window. "Now I know what I was planning to do. I'm going to Seattle," he said. The girl was gone at twenty-nine minutes after twelve. At twenty-nine and a half minutes after, Milt remarked to Ben Sittka, "I'm going to take a trip. Uh? Now don't ask questions. You take charge of the garage until you hear from me. Get somebody to help you. G'-by." garage He drove his Teal bug out of the garage. At thirty-two minutes after twelve he was in his room, packing his wicker suitcase by the method of throwing things in and stamping on the case till it closed. In it he had absolutely all of his toilet refinements and wardrobe except the important portion already in use. They consisted, according to faithful detailed report, of four extra pairs of thick yellow and white cotton socks; two shirts, five collars, five handkerchiefs; a pair of surprisingly vain dancing pumps; high tan laced boots; three suits of cheap cotton underclothes; his Sunday suit, which was dead black in color, and unimaginative in cut; four ties; a fagged toothbrush, a comb and hairbrush, a razor, a strop, shaving soap in a mug; a not very clean towel; and nothing else whatever. car model garage To this he added his entire library and private picture gallery, consisting of Ivanhoe, Ben-Hur, his father's copy of Byron, a wireless manual, and the 1916 edition of Motor Construction and Repairing: the art collection, one colored Sunday supplement picture of a princess lunching in a Provençe courtyard, and a half-tone of Colonel Paul Beck landing in an early military biplane. Under this last, in a pencil scrawl now blurred to grayness, Milt had once written, "This what Ill be aviator." What he was to wear was a piercing trouble. Till eleven minutes past twelve that day he had not cared. People accepted his overalls at anything except a dance, and at the dances he was the only one who wore pumps. But in his discovery of Claire Boltwood he had perceived that dressing is an art. Before he had packed, he had unhappily pawed at the prized black suit. It had become stupid. "Undertaker!" he growled. With a shrug which indicated that he had nothing else, he had exchanged his overalls for a tan flannel shirt, black bow tie, thick pigskin shoes, and the suit he had worn the evening before, his best suit of two years ago—baggy blue serge coat and trousers. He could not know it, but they were surprisingly graceful on his wiry, firm, white body. In his pockets were a roll of bills and an unexpectedly good gold watch. For warmth he had a winter ulster, an old-fashioned turtle-neck sweater, and a raincoat heavy as tarpaulin. He plunged into the raincoat, ran out, galloped to Rauskukle's store, bought the most vehement cap in the place—a plaid of cerise, orange, emerald green, ultramarine, and five other guaranteed fashionable colors. He stocked up with food for roadside camping. In the humping tin-covered tail of the bug was a good deal of room, and this he filled with motor extras, a shotgun and shells, a pair of skates, and all his camping kit as used on his annual duck-hunting trip to Man Trap Lake. car part car model metaphor equipment "I'm a darned fool to take everything I own but—— Might be gone a whole month," he reflected. He had only one possession left—a check book, concealed from the interested eye of his too maternal landlady by sticking it under the stair carpet. This he retrieved. It showed a balance of two hundred dollars. There was ten dollars in the cash register in the office, for Ben Sittka. The garage would, with the mortgage deducted, be worth nearly two thousand. This was his fortune. He bolted into the kitchen and all in one shout he informed his landlady, "Called out of town, li'l trip, b'lieve I don't owe you an'thing, here's six dollars, two weeks' notice, dunno just when I be back." Before she could issue a questionnaire he was out in the bug. He ran through town. At his friend McGolwey; now loose-lipped and wabbly, sitting in the rain on a pile of ties behind the railroad station, he yelled, "So long, Mac. Take care yourself, old hoss. Off on li'l trip." car model driving speed He stopped in front of the "prof's," tooted till the heads of the Joneses appeared at the window, waved and shouted, "G'-by, folks. Goin' outa town." Then, while freedom and the distant Pacific seemed to rush at him over the hood, he whirled out of town. It was two minutes to one—forty-seven minutes since Claire Boltwood had entered Schoenstrom. driving speed affect car part He stopped only once. His friend Lady Vere de Vere was at the edge of town, on a scientific exploring trip in the matter of ethnology and field mice. She hailed him, "Mrwr? Me mrwr!" "You don't say so!" Milt answered in surprise. "Well, if I promised to take you, I'll keep my word." He vaulted out, tucked Vere de Vere into the seat, protecting her from the rain with the tarpaulin winter radiator-cover. animal rain car part His rut-skipping car overtook the mud-walloping Gomez-Dep in an hour, and pulled it out of the mud. car model personification road condition accident mud speed Before Milt slept that night, in his camp three miles from Gopher Prairie, he went through religious rites. "Girl like her, she's darn particular about her looks. I'm a sloppy hound. Used to be snappier about my clothes when I was in high school. Getting lazy—too much like Mac. Think of me sleeping in my clothes last night!" "Mrwr!" rebuked the cat. "You're dead right. Fierce is the word. Nev' will sleep in my duds again, puss. That is, when I have a reg'lar human bed. Course camping, different. But still—— Let's see all the funny things we can do to us." He shaved—two complete shaves, from lather to towel. He brushed his hair. He sat down by a campfire sheltered between two rocks, and fought his nails, though they were discouragingly crammed with motor grease. Throughout this interesting but quite painful ceremony Milt kept up a conversation between himself as the World's Champion Dude, and his cat as Vallay. But when there was nothing more to do, and the fire was low, and Vere de Vere asleep in the sleeve of the winter ulster, his bumbling voice slackened; in something like agony he muttered: car part "But oh, what's the use? I can't ever be anything but a dub! Cleaning my nails, to make a hit with a girl that's got hands like hers! It's a long trail to Seattle, but it's a darn sight longer one to being—being—well, sophisticated. Oh! And incidentally, what the deuce am I going to do in Seattle if I do get there?" Chapter VI [ edit | edit source ] THE LAND OF BILLOWING CLOUDS (66-73) Never a tawny-beached ocean has the sweetness of the prairie slew. Rippling and blue, with long grass up to its edge, a spot of dancing light set in the miles of rustling wheat, it retains even in July, on an afternoon of glare and brazen locusts, the freshness of a spring morning. A thousand slews, a hundred lakes bordered with rippling barley or tinkling bells of the flax, Claire passed. She had left the occasional groves of oak and poplar and silver birch, and come out on the treeless Great Plains. She had learned to call the slews "pugholes," and to watch for ducks at twilight. She had learned that about the pugholes flutter choirs of crimson-winged blackbirds; that the ugly brown birds squatting on fence-rails were the divine-voiced meadow larks; that among the humble cowbird citizens of the pastures sometimes flaunted a scarlet tanager or an oriole; and that no rose garden has the quaint and hardy beauty of the Indian paint brushes and rag babies and orange milkweed in the prickly, burnt-over grass between roadside and railway line. road condition animal twilight lake sound plant road side train She had learned that what had seemed rudeness in garage men and hotel clerks was often a resentful reflection of her own Eastern attitude that she was necessarily superior to a race she had been trained to call "common people." If she spoke up frankly, they made her one of their own, and gave her companionable aid. garage class For two days of sunshine and drying mud she followed a road flung straight across flat wheatlands, then curving among low hills. Often there were no fences; she was so intimately in among the grain that the fenders of the car brushed wheat stalks, and she became no stranger, but a part of all this vast-horizoned land. She forgot that she was driving, as she let the car creep on, while she was transported by Armadas of clouds, prairie clouds, wisps of vapor like a ribbed beach, or mounts of cumulus swelling to gold-washed snowy peaks. sunshine road condition car part scenery skill cloud pleasure mountain pastoral The friendliness of the bearing earth gave her a calm that took no heed of passing hours. Even her father, the abstracted man of affairs, nodded to dusty people along the road; to a jolly old man whose bulk rolled and shook in a tiny, rhythmically creaking buggy, to women in the small abrupt towns with their huge red elevators and their long, flat-roofed stores. passenger pedestrian road side Claire had discovered America, and she felt stronger, and all her days were colored with the sun. affect sunshine She had discovered, too, that she could adventure. No longer was she haunted by the apprehension that had whispered to her as she had left Minneapolis. She knew a thrill when she hailed—as though it were a passing ship—an Illinois car across whose dust-caked back was a banner "Chicago to the Yellowstone." She experienced a new sensation of common humanness when, on a railway paralleling the wagon road for miles, the engineer of a freight waved his hand to her, and tooted the whistle in greeting. train driving affect car Her father was easily tired, but he drowsed through the early afternoons when a none-too-digestible small-town lunch was as lead within him. Despite the beauty of the land and the joy of pushing on, they both had things to endure. affect After lunch, it was sometimes an agony to Claire to keep awake. Her eyes felt greasy from the food, or smarted with the sun-glare. In the still air, after the morning breeze had been burnt out, the heat from the engine was a torment about her feet; and if there was another car ahead, the trail of dust sifted into her throat. Unless there was traffic to keep her awake, she nodded at the wheel; she was merely a part of a machine that ran on without seeming to make any impression on the prairie's endlessness. car part engine road condition dust taste vision anthropomorphism Over and over there were the same manipulations: slow for down hill, careful of sand at the bottom, letting her out on a smooth stretch, waving to a lonely farmwife in her small, baked dooryard, slow to pass a hay-wagon, gas for up the next hill, and repeat the round all over again. But she was joyous till noon; and with mid-afternoon a new strength came which, as rose crept above the golden haze of dust, deepened into serene meditation. slowness road surface driver affect And she was finding the one secret of long-distance driving—namely, driving; keeping on, thinking by fifty-mile units, not by the ten-mile stretches of Long Island runs; and not fretting over anything whatever. She seemed charmed; if she had a puncture—why, she put on the spare. If she ran out of gas—why, any passing driver would lend her a gallon. Nothing, it seemed, could halt her level flight across the giant land. driver affect metaphor She rarely lost her way. She was guided by the friendly trail signs—those big red R's and L's on fence post and telephone pole, magically telling the way from the Mississippi to the Pacific. map navigation Her father's occasional musing talk kept her from loneliness. He was a good touring companion. Motoring is not the best occasion for epigrams, satire, and the Good One You Got Off at the Lambs' Club last night. Such verbiage on motor trips invariably results in the mysterious finding of the corpse of a strange man, well dressed, hidden beside the road. Claire and her father mumbled, "Good farmhouse—brick," or "Nice view," and smiled, and were for miles as silent as the companionable sky. passenger She thought of the people she knew, especially of Jeff Saxton. But she could not clearly remember his lean earnest face. Between her and Jeff were sweeping sunny leagues. But she was not lonely. Certainly she was not lonely for a young man with a raincoat, a cat, and an interest in Japan. No singer after a first concert has felt more triumphant than Claire when she crossed her first state-line; rumbled over the bridge across the Red River into North Dakota. To see Dakota car licenses everywhere, instead of Minnesota, was like the sensation of street signs in a new language. And when she found a good hotel in Fargo and had a real bath, she felt that by her own efforts she had earned the right to enjoy it. driving affect bridge river city Mr. Boltwood caught her enthusiasm. Dinner was a festival, and in iced tea the peaceful conquistadores drank the toast of the new Spanish Main; and afterward, arm in arm, went chattering to the movies. affect pioneer In front of the Royal Palace, Pictures, 4 Great Acts Vaudeville 4, was browsing a small, beetle-like, tin-covered car. car model "Dad! Look! I'm sure—yes, of course, there's his suitcase—that's the car of that nice boy—don't you remember?—the one that pulled us out of the mud at—I don't remember the name of the place. Apparently he's keeping going. I remember; he's headed for Seattle, too. We'll look for him in the theater. Oh, the darling, there's his cat! What was the funny name he gave her—the Marchioness Montmorency or something?" Lady Vere de Vere, afraid of Fargo and movie crowds, but trusting in her itinerant castle, the bug, was curled in Milt Daggett's ulster, in the bottom of the car. She twinkled her whiskers at Claire, and purred to a stroking hand. animal metaphor With the excitement of one trying to find the address of a friend in a strange land Claire looked over the audience when the lights came on before the vaudeville. In the second row she saw Milt's stiffish, rope-colored mair—surprisingly smooth above an astoundingly clean new tan shirt of mercerized silk. He laughed furiously at the dialogue between Pete-Rosenheim & Larose-Bettina, though it contained the cheese joke, the mother-in-law joke, and the joke about the wife rifling her husband's pockets. "Our young friend seems to have enviable youthful spirits," commented Mr. Boltwood. "Now, no superiority! He's probably never seen a real vaudeville show. Wouldn't it be fun to take him to the Winter Garden or the Follies for the first time!... Instead of being taken by Jeff Saxton, and having the humor, oh! so articulately explained!" The pictures were resumed; the film which, under ten or twelve different titles, Claire had already seen, even though Brooklyn Heights does not devote Saturday evening to the movies. The badman, the sheriff—an aged party with whiskers and boots—the holdup, the sad eyes of the sheriff's daughter—also an aged party, but with a sunbonnet and the most expensive rouge—the crook's reformation, and his violent adherence to law and order; this libel upon the portions of these United States lying west of longitude 101° Claire had seen too often. She dragged her father back to the hotel, sent him to bed, and entered her room—to find a telegram upon the bureau. She had sent her friends a list of the places at which she would be likely to stop. The message was from Jeff Saxton, in Brooklyn. It brought to her mind the steady shine of his glasses—the most expensive glasses, with the very best curved lenses—as it demanded: "Received letter about trip surprised anxious will tire you out fatigue prairie roads bad for your father mountain roads dangerous strongly advise go only part way then take train. GEOFFREY." train road risk She held the telegram, flipping her fingers against one end of it as she debated. She remembered how the wide world had flowed toward her over the hood of the Gomez all day. She wrote in answer: car model car part metaphor "Awful perils of road, two punctures, split infinitive, eggs at lunch questionable, but struggle on." road condition risk Before she sent it she held council with her father. She sat on the foot of his bed and tried to sound dutiful. "I don't want to do anything that's bad for you, daddy. But isn't it taking your mind away from business?" "Ye-es, I think it is. Anyway, we'll try it a few days more." "I fancy we can stand up under the strain and perils. I think we can persuade some of these big farmers to come to the rescue if we encounter any walruses or crocodiles among the wheat. And I have a feeling that if we ever get stuck, our friend of the Teal bug will help us." affect animal risk car model "Probably never see him again. He'll skip on ahead of us." "Of course. We haven't laid an eye on him, along the road. He must have gotten into Fargo long before we did. Now tomorrow I think——" Chapter VII [ edit | edit source ] THE GREAT AMERICAN FRYING PAN (74-84) It was Claire's first bad day since the hole in the mud. She had started gallantly, scooting along the level road that flies straight west of Fargo. But at noon she encountered a restaurant which made eating seem an evil. driver skill road That they might have fair fame among motorists the commercial club of Reaper had set at the edge of town a sign "Welcome to Reaper, a Live Town—Speed Limit 8 Miles perhr." Being interpreted, that sign meant that if you went much over twenty miles an hour on the main street, people might glance at you; and that the real welcome, the only impression of Reaper that tourists were likely to carry away, was the welcome in the one restaurant. It was called the Eats Garden. As Claire and her father entered, they were stifled by a belch of smoke from the frying pan in the kitchen. The room was blocked by a huge lunch counter; there was only one table, covered with oil cloth decorated with venerable spots of dried egg yolk. traffic sign The waiter-cook, whose apron was gravy-patterned, with a border and stomacher of plain gray dirt, grumbled, "Whadyuhwant?" Claire sufficiently recovered to pick out the type from the fly specks on the menu, and she ordered a small steak and coffee for her father; for herself tea, boiled eggs, toast. "Toast? We ain't got any toast!" "Well, can't you make it?" "Oh, I suppose I could——" When they came, the slices of toast were an inch thick, burnt on one side and raw on the other. The tea was bitter and the eggs watery. Her father reported that his steak was high-test rawhide, and his coffee—well, he wasn't sure just what substitute had been used for chicory, but he thought it was lukewarm quinine. Claire raged: "You know, this town really has aspirations. They're beginning to build such nice little bungalows, and there's a fine clean bank—— Then they permit this scoundrel to advertise the town among strangers, influential strangers, in motors, by serving food like this! I suppose they think that they arrest criminals here, yet this restaurant man is a thief, to charge real money for food like this—— Yes, and he's a murderer!" class "Oh, come now, dolly!" "Yes he is, literally. He must in his glorious career have given chronic indigestion to thousands of people—shortened their lives by years. That's wholesale murder. If I were the authorities here, I'd be indulgent to the people who only murder one or two people, but imprison this cook for life. Really! I mean it!" "Well, he probably does the best e——" "He does not! These eggs and this bread were perfectly good, before he did black magic over them. And did you see the contemptuous look he gave me when I was so eccentric as to order toast? Oh, Reaper, Reaper, you desire a modern town, yet I wonder if you know how many thousands of tourists go from coast to coast, cursing you? If I could only hang that restaurant man—and the others like him—in a rope of his own hempen griddle cakes! The Great American Frying Pan! I don't expect men building a new town to have time to read Hugh Walpole and James Branch Cabell, but I do expect them to afford a cook who can fry eggs!" As she paid the check, Claire tried to think of some protest which would have any effect on the obese wits of the restaurant man. In face of his pink puffiness she gave it up. Her failure as a Citizeness Fixit sent her out of the place in a fury, carried her on in a dusty whirl till the engine spat, sounded tired and reflective, and said it guessed it wouldn't go any farther that day. affect driving engine personification dust Now that she had something to do, Claire became patient. "Run out of gas. Isn't it lucky I got that can for an extra gallon?" maintenance gasoline But there was plenty of gas. There was no discernible reason why the car should not go. She started the engine. It ran for half a minute and quit. All the plugs showed sparks. No wires were detached in the distributor. There was plenty of water, and the oil was not clogged. And that ended Claire's knowledge of the inside of a motor. gasoline engine accident car part oil driver She stopped two motorists. The first was sure that there was dirt on the point of the needle valve, in the carburetor. While Claire shuddered lest he never get it back, he took out the needle valve, wiped it, put it back—and the engine was again started, and again, with great promptness, it stopped. car part The second Good Samaritan knew that one of the wires in the distributor must be detached and, though she assured him that she had inspected them, he looked pityingly at her smart sports-suit, said, "Well, I'll just take a look," and removed the distributor cover. He also scratched his head, felt of the fuses under the cowl, scratched his cheek, poked a finger at the carburetor, rubbed his ear, said, "Well, uh——" looked to see if there was water and gas, sighed, "Can't just seem to find out what's the trouble," shot at his own car, and escaped. car part maintenance gender Claire had been highly grateful and laudatory to both of them—but she remained here, ten miles from nowhere. It was a beautiful place. Down a hill the wheat swam toward a village whose elevator was a glistening tower. Mud-hens gabbled in a slew, alfalfa shone with unearthly green, and bees went junketing toward a field of red clover. But she had the motorist's fever to go on. The road behind and in front was very long, very white—and very empty. affect pastoral metaphor road Her father, out of much thought and a solid ignorance about all of motoring beyond the hiring of chauffeurs and the payment of bills, suggested, "Uh, dolly, have you looked to see if these, uh—— Is the carburetor all right?" class driver car part "Yes, dear; I've looked at it three times, so far," she said, just a little too smoothly. On the hill five miles to eastward, a line of dust, then a small car. As it approached, the driver must have sighted her and increased speed. He came up at thirty-five miles an hour. car dust driver speed "Now we'll get something done! Look! It's a bug—a flivver or a Teal or something. I believe it's the young man that got us out of the mud." car model Milt Daggett stopped, casually greeted them: "Why, hello, Miss Boltwood. Thought you'd be way ahead of me some place!" "Mrwr," said Vere de Vere. What this meant the historian does not know. "No; I've been taking it easy. Mr., Uh—I can't quite remember your name——" "Milt Daggett." "There's something mysterious the matter with my car. The engine will start, after it's left alone a while, but then it stalls. Do you suppose you could tell what it is?" engine "I don't know. I'll see if I can find out." "Then you probably will. The other two men knew everything. One of them was the inventor of wheels, and the other discovered skidding. So of course they couldn't help me." car part Milt added nothing to her frivolity, but his smile was friendly. He lifted the round rubber cap of the distributor. Then Claire's faith tumbled in the dust. Twice had the wires been tested. Milt tested them again. She was too tired of botching to tell him he was wasting time. car part maintenance "Got an oil can?" he hesitated. oil Through a tiny hole in the plate of the distributor he dripped two drops of oil—only two drops. "I guess maybe that's what it needed. You might try her now, and see how she runs," he said mildly. maintenance oil personification Dubiously Claire started the engine. It sang jubilantly, and it did not stop. Again was the road open to her. Again was the settlement over there, to which it would have taken her an hour to walk, only six minutes away. engine pioneer She stopped the engine, beamed at him—there in the dust, on the quiet hilltop. He said as apologetically as though he had been at fault, "Distributor got dry. Might give it a little oil about once in six months." engine car part oil maintenance "We are so grateful to you! Twice now you've saved our lives." "Oh, I guess you'd have gone on living! And if drivers can't help each other, who can?" driver "That's a good start toward world-fellowship, I suppose. I wish we could do—— Return your lunch or—— Mr. Daggett! Do you read books? I mean——" "Yes I do, when I run across them." "Mayn't I gi—lend you these two that I happen to have along? I've finished them, and so has father, I think." From the folds of the strapped-down top she pulled out Compton Mackenzie's Youth's Encounter , and Vachel Lindsay's Congo . With a curious faint excitement she watched him turn the leaves. His blunt fingers flapped through them as though he was used to books. As he looked at Congo , he exclaimed, "Poetry! That's fine! Like it, but I don't hardly ever run across it. I—— Say—— I'm terribly obliged!" car part His clear face lifted, sun-brown and young and adoring. She had not often seen men look at her thus. Certainly Jeff Saxton's painless worship did not turn him into the likeness of a knight among banners. Yet the good Geoffrey loved her, while to Milt Daggett she could be nothing more than a strange young woman in a car with a New York license. If her tiny gift could so please him, how poor he must be. "He probably lives on some barren farm," she thought, "or he's a penniless mechanic hoping for a good job in Seattle. How white his forehead is!" But aloud she was saying, "I hope you're enjoying your trip." "Oh yes. I like it fine. You having a good time? Well—— Well, thanks for the books." She was off before him. Presently she exclaimed to Mr. Boltwood: "You know—just occurs to me—it's rather curious that our young friend should be so coincidental as to come along just when we needed him." "Oh, he just happened to, I suppose," hemmed her father. "I'm not so sure," she meditated, while she absently watched another member of the Poultry Suicide Club rush out of a safe ditch, prepare to take leave for immortality, change her fowlish mind, flutter up over the hood of the car, and come down squawking her indignities to the barnyard. "I'm not so sure about his happening—— No. I wonder if he could possibly—— Oh no. I hope not. Flattering, but—— You don't suppose he could be deliberately following us?" animal roadkill car part "Nonsense! He's a perfectly decent young chap." "I know. Of course. He probably works hard in a garage, and is terribly nice to his mother and sisters at home. I mean—— I wouldn't want the dear lamb to be a devoted knight, though. Too thankless a job." garage She slowed the car down to fifteen an hour. For the first time she began to watch the road behind her. In a few minutes a moving spot showed in the dust three miles back. Oh, naturally; he would still be behind her. Only—— If she stopped, just to look at the scenery, he would go on ahead of her. She stopped for a moment—for a time too brief to indicate that anything had gone wrong with her car. Staring back she saw that the bug stopped also, and she fancied that Milt was out standing beside it, peering with his palm over his eyes—a spy, unnatural and disturbing in the wide peace. road car model She drove on a mile and halted again; again halted her attendant. He was keeping a consistent two to four miles behind, she estimated. "This won't do at all," she worried. "Flattering, but somehow—— Whatever sort of a cocoon-wrapped hussy I am, I don't collect scalps. I won't have young men serving me—graft on them—get amusement out of their struggles. Besides—suppose he became just a little more friendly, each time he came up, all the way from here to Seattle?... Fresh.... No, it won't do." She ran the car to the side of the road. road side "More trouble?" groaned her father. "No. Just want to see scenery." "But—— There's a good deal of scenery on all sides, without stopping, seems to me!" "Yes, but——" She looked back. Milt had come into sight; had paused to take observations. Her father caught it: "Oh, I see. Pardon me. Our squire still following? Let him go on ahead? Wise lass." "Yes. I think perhaps it's better to avoid complications." "Of course." Mr. Boltwood's manner did not merely avoid Milt; it abolished him. She saw Milt, after five minutes of stationary watching, start forward. He came dustily rattling up with a hail of "Distributor on strike again?" so cheerful that it hurt her to dismiss him. But she had managed a household. She was able to say suavely: driving sound car part "No, everything is fine. I'm sure it will be, now. I'm afraid we are holding you back. You mustn't worry about us." "Oh, that's all right," breezily. "Something might go wrong. Say, is this poetry book——" "No, I'm sure nothing will go wrong now. You mustn't feel responsible for us. But, uh, you understand we're very grateful for what you have done and, uh, perhaps we shall see each other in Seattle?" She made it brightly interrogatory. "Oh, I see." His hands gripped the wheel. His cheeks had been too ruddily tinted by the Dakota sun to show a blush, but his teeth caught his lower lip. He had no starter on his bug; he had in his embarrassment to get out and crank. He did it quietly, not looking at her. She could see that his hand trembled on the crank. When he did glance at her, as he drove off, it was apologetically, miserably. His foot was shaking on the clutch pedal. car part car model haptic The dust behind his car concealed him. For twenty miles she was silent, save when she burst out to her father, "I do hope you're enjoying the trip. It's so easy to make people unhappy. I wonder—— No. Had to be done." dust Chapter VIII [ edit | edit source ] THE DISCOVERY OF CANNED SHRIMPS AND HESPERIDES (85-100) On the morning when Milt Daggett had awakened to sunshine in the woods north of Gopher Prairie, he had discovered the golden age. As mile on mile he jogged over new hills, without having to worry about getting back to his garage in time to repair somebody's car, he realized that for the past two years he had forced himself to find contentment in building up a business that had no future. garage Now he laughed and whooped; he drove with one foot inelegantly and enchantingly up on the edge of the cowl; he made Lady Vere de Vere bow to astounded farmers; he went to the movies every evening—twice, in Fargo; and when the chariot of the young prince swept to the brow of a hill, he murmured, not in the manner of a bug-driver but with a stinging awe, "All that big country! Ours to see, puss! We'll settle down some day and be solid citizens and raise families and wheeze when we walk, but—— All those hills to sail over and—— Come on! Lez sail!" driving pleasure car part metaphor car model driver Milt attended the motion pictures every evening, and he saw them in a new way. As recently as one week before he had preferred those earnest depictions in which hard-working, moral actors shoot one another, or ride the most uncomfortable horses up mountainsides. But now, with a mental apology to that propagandist of lowbrowism, the absent Mac, he chose the films in which the leading men wore evening clothes, and no one ever did anything without being assisted by a "man." Aside from the pictures Milt's best tutors were traveling men. Though he measured every cent, and for his campfire dinners bought modest chuck steaks, he had at least one meal a day at a hotel, to watch the traveling men. To Claire, traveling men were merely commercial persons in hard-boiled suits. She identified them with the writing-up of order-slips on long littered writing-tables, and with hotels that reduced the delicate arts of dining and sleeping to gray greasiness. But Milt knew traveling men. He knew that not only were they the missionaries of business, supplementing the taking of orders by telling merchants how to build up trade, how to trim windows and treat customers like human beings; but also that they, as much as the local ministers and doctors and teachers and newspapermen, were the agents in spreading knowledge and justice. It was they who showed the young men how to have their hair cut—and to wash behind the ears and shave daily; they who encouraged villagers to rise from scandal and gossip to a perception of the Great World, of politics and sports, and some measure of art and science. Claire, and indeed her father and Mr. Jeff Saxton as well, had vaguely concluded that because drummers were always to be seen in soggy hotels and badly connecting trains and the headachy waiting-rooms of stations, they must like these places. Milt knew that the drummers were martyrs; that for months of a trip, all the while thinking of the children back home, they suffered from landlords and train schedules; that they were Claire's best allies in fighting the Great American Frying Pan; that they knew good things, and fought against the laziness and impositions of people who "kept hotel" because they had failed as farmers; and that when they did find a landlord who was cordial and efficient, they went forth mightily advertising that glorious man. The traveling men, he knew, were pioneers in spats. Hence it was to the traveling men, not to supercilious tourists in limousines, that Milt turned for suggestions as to how to perform the miracle of changing from an ambitious boy into what Claire would recognize as a charming man. He had not met enough traveling men at Schoenstrom. They scooped up what little business there was, and escaped from the Leipzig House to spend the night at St. Cloud or Sauk Centre. car model class In the larger towns in Minnesota and Dakota, after evening movies, before slipping out to his roadside camp Milt inserted himself into a circle of traveling men in large leather chairs, and ventured, "Saw a Gomez-Dep with a New York license down the line today." road side car model "Oh. You driving through?" "Yes. Going to Seattle." That distinguished Milt from the ordinary young-men-loafers, and he was admitted as one of the assembly of men who traveled and saw things and wondered about the ways of men. It was good talk he heard; too much of hotels, and too many tight banal little phrases suggesting the solution of all economic complexities by hanging "agitators," but with this, an exciting accumulation of impressions of Vancouver and San Diego, Florida and K. C. "That's a wonderful work farm they have at Duluth," said one, and the next, "speaking of that, I was in Chicago last week, and I saw a play——" Milt had, in his two years of high school in St. Cloud, and in his boyhood under the genial but abstracted eye of the Old Doctor, learned that it was not well thought of to use the knife as a hod and to plaster mashed potatoes upon it, as was the custom in Mac's Old Home Lunch at Schoenstrom. But the arts of courteously approaching oysters, salad, and peas were rather unfamiliar to him. Now he studied forks as he had once studied carburetors, and he gave spiritual devotion to the nice eating of a canned-shrimp cocktail—a lost legion of shrimps, now two thousand miles and two years away from their ocean home. He peeped with equal earnestness at the socks and the shirts of the traveling men. Socks had been to him not an article of faith but a detail of economy. His attitude to socks had lacked in reverence and technique. He had not perceived that socks may be as sound a symbol of culture as the 'cello or even demountable rims. He had been able to think with respect of ties and damp piqué collars secured by gold safety-pins; and to the belted fawn overcoat that the St. Klopstock banker's son had brought back from St. Paul, he had given jealous attention. But now he graduated into differential socks. car part class By his campfire, sighing to the rather somnolent Vere de Vere, he scornfully yanked his extra pairs of thick, white-streaked, yellow cotton socks from the wicker suitcase, and uttered anathema: "Begone, ye unworthy and punk-looking raiment. I know ye! Ye werst a bargain and two pairs for two bits. But even as Adolph Zolzac and an agent for flivver accessories are ye become in my eyes, ye generation of vipers, ye clumsy, bag-footed, wrinkle-sided gunny-sacking ye!" car model Next day, in the woods, a happy hobo found that the manna-bringing ravens had left him four pairs of good socks. Five quite expensive pairs of silk and lisle socks Milt purchased—all that the general merchant at Jeppe had in stock. What they lost in suitability to touring and to private laundering at creeks, they gained as symbols. Milt felt less shut out from the life of leisure. Now, in Seattle, say, he could go into a good hotel with less fear of the clerks. He added attractive outing shirts, ties neither too blackly dull nor too flashily crimson, and a vicious nail-brush which simply tore out the motor grease that had grown into the lines of his hands. Also he added a book. car part The book was a rhetoric. Milt knew perfectly that there was an impertinence called grammar, but it had never annoyed him much. He knew that many persons preferred "They were" to "They was," and were nervous in the presence of "ain't." One teacher in St. Cloud had buzzed frightfully about these minutiæ. But Milt discovered that grammar was only the beginning of woes. He learned that there were such mental mortgages as figures of speech and the choice of synonyms. He had always known, but he had never passionately felt that the invariable use of "hell," "doggone," and "You bet!" left certain subtleties unexpressed. Now he was finding subtleties which he had to express. As joyously adventurous as going on day after day was his experimentation in voicing his new observations. He gave far more eagerness to it than Claire Boltwood had. Gustily intoning to Vere de Vere, who was the perfect audience, inasmuch as she never had anything to say but "Mrwr," and didn't mind being interrupted in that, he clamored, "The prairies are the sea. In the distance they are kind of silvery—no—they are dim silver; and way off on the skyline are the Islands of the—of the—— Now what the devil was them, were those, islands in the mythology book in high school? Of the—Blessed? Great snakes' boots, you're an ignorant cat, Vere! Hesperyds? No! Hesperides! Yea, bo'! Now that man in the hotel: 'May I trouble you for the train guide? Thanks so much!' But how much is so much?" As Claire's days were set free by her consciousness of sun and brown earth, so Milt's odyssey was only the more valorous in his endeavor to criticize life. He saw that Mac's lunch room had not been an altogether satisfactory home; that Mac's habit of saying to dissatisfied customers, "If you don't like it, get out," had lacked something of courtesy. Staring at towns along the way, Milt saw that houses were not merely large and comfortable, or small and stingy; but that there was an interesting thing he remembered hearing his teachers call "good taste." He was not the preoccupied Milt of the garage but a gay-eyed gallant, the evening when he gave a lift to the school-teacher and drove her from the district school among the wild roses and the corn to her home in the next town. She was a neat, tripping, trim-sided school-teacher of nineteen or twenty. garage passenger "You're going out to Seattle? My! That's a wonderful trip. Don't you get tired?" she adored. "Oh, no. And I'm seeing things. I used to think everything worth while was right near my own town." "You're so wise to go places. Most of the boys I know don't think there is any world beyond Jimtown and Fargo." She glowed at him. Milt was saying to himself, "Am I a fool? I probably could make this girl fall in love with me. And she's better than I am; so darn neat and clean and gentle. We'd be happy. She's a nice comfy fire, and here I go like a boob, chasing after a lone, cold star like Miss Boltwood, and probably I'll fall into all the slews from hell to breakfast on the way. But—— I'd get sleepy by a comfy fire." "Are you thinking hard? You're frowning so," ventured the school-teacher. "Didn't mean to. 'Scuse!" he laughed. One hand off the steering wheel, he took her hand—a fresh, cool, virginal hand, snuggling into his, suddenly stirring him. He wanted to hold it tighter. The lamenting historian of love's pilgrimage must set down the fact that the pilgrim for at least a second forgot the divine tread of the goddess Claire, and made rapid calculation that he could, in a pinch, drive from Schoenstrom to the teacher's town in two days and a night; that therefore courtship, and this sweet white hand resting in his, were not impossible. Milt himself did not know what it was that made him lay down the hand and say, so softly that he was but half audible through the rattle of the engine: car part engine sound pioneer "Isn't this a slick, mean to say glorious evening? Sky rose and then that funny lavender. And that new moon—— Makes me think of—the girl I'm in love with." "You're engaged?" wistfully. "Not exactly but—— Say, did you study rhetoric in Normal School? I have a rhetoric that's got all kind of poetic extracts, you know, and quotations and everything, from the big writers, Stevenson and all. Always been so practical, making a garage pay, never thought much about how I said things as long as I could say 'No!' and say it quick. 'Cept maybe when I was talking to the prof there. But it's great sport to see how musical you can make a thing sound. Words. Like Shenandoah. Gol-lee! Isn't that a wonderful word? Makes you see old white mansion, and mocking birds—— Wonder if a fellow could be a big engineer, you know, build bridges and so on, and still talk about, oh, beautiful things? What d' you think, girlie?" garage "Oh, I'm sure you could!" Her admiration, the proximity of her fragrant slightness, was pleasant in the dusk, but he did not press her hand again, even when she whispered, "Good night, and thank you—oh, thank you." If Milt had been driving at the rate at which he usually made his skipjack carom over the roads about Schoenstrom, he would by now have been through Dakota, into Montana. But he was deliberately holding down the speed. When he had been tempted by a smooth stretch to go too breathlessly, he halted, teased Vere de Vere, climbed out and, sitting on a hilltop, his hands about his knees, drenched his soul with the vision of amber distances. speed road metaphor He tried so to time his progress that he might always be from three to five miles behind Claire—distant enough to be unnoticed, near enough to help in case of need. For behind poetic expression and the use of forks was the fact that his purpose in life was to know Claire. When he was caught, when Claire informed him that he "mustn't worry about her"; when, slowly, he understood that she wasn't being neighborly and interested in his making time, he wanted to escape, never to see her again. For thirty miles his cheeks were fiery. He, most considerate of roadmen, crowded a woman in a flivver, passed a laboring car on an upgrade with such a burst that the uneasy driver bumped off into a ditch. He hadn't really seen them. Only mechanically had he got past them. He was muttering: driver car model "She thought I was trying to butt in! Stung again! Like a small boy in love with teacher. And I thought I was so wise! Cussed out Mac—blamed Mac—no, damn all the fine words—cussed out Mac for being the village rumhound. Boozing is twice as sensible as me. See a girl, nice dress—start for Seattle! Two thousand miles away! Of course she bawled me out. She was dead right. Boob! Yahoo! Goat!" He caught up Vere de Vere, rubbed her fur against his cheek while he mourned, "Oh, puss, you got to be nice to me. I thought I'd do big things. And then the alarm clock went off. I'm back in Schoenstrom. For keeps, I guess. I didn't know I had feelings that could get hurt like this. Thought I had a rhinoceros hide. But—— Oh, it isn't just feeling ashamed over being a fool. It's that—— Won't ever see her again. Not once. Way I saw her through the window, at that hotel, in that blue silky dress—that funny long line of buttons, and her throat. Never have dinner—lunch—with her by the road——" road side In the reaction of anger he demanded of Vere de Vere, "What the deuce do I care? If she's chump enough to chase away a crack garage man that's gone batty and wants to work for nothing, let her go on and hit some crook garage and get stuck for an entire overhauling. What do I care? Had nice trip; that's all I wanted. Never did intend to go clear to Seattle, anyway. Go on to Butte, then back home. No more fussing about fool table-manners and books, and I certainly will cut out tagging behind her! No, sir! Nev-er again!" garage maintenance It was somewhat inconsistent to add, "There's a bully place—sneak in and let her get past me again. But she won't catch me following next time!" While he tried to keep up his virtuous anger, he was steering into an abandoned farmyard, parking the car behind cottonwoods and neglected tall currant bushes which would conceal it from the road. parking plant The windows of the deserted house stared at him; a splintered screen door banged in every breeze. Lichens leered from the cracks of the porch. The yard was filled with a litter of cottonwood twigs, and over the flower garden hulked ragged weeds. In the rank grass about the slimy green lip of the well, crickets piped derisively. The barn-door was open. Stray kernels of wheat had sprouted between the spokes of a rusty binder-wheel. A rat slipped across the edge of the shattered manger. As dusk came on, gray things seemed to slither past the upper windows of the house, and somewhere, under the roof, there was a moaning. Milt was sure that it was the wind in a knothole. He told himself that he was absolutely sure about it. And every time it came he stroked Vere de Vere carefully, and once, when the moaning ended in the slamming of the screen door, he said, "Jiminy!" affect sound plant visibility This boy of the unghostly cylinders and tangible magnetos had never seen a haunted house. To toil of the harvest field and machine shop and to trudging the sun-beaten road he was accustomed, but he had never crouched watching the slinking spirits of old hopes and broken aspirations; feeble phantoms of the first eager bridegroom who had come to this place, and the mortgage-crushed, rust-wheat-ruined man who had left it. He wanted to leap into the bug and go on. Yet the haunt of murmurous memories dignified his unhappiness. In the soft, tree-dimmed dooryard among dry, blazing plains it seemed indecent to go on growling "Gee," and "Can you beat it?" It was a young poet, a poet rhymeless and inarticulate, who huddled behind the shield of untrimmed currant bushes, and thought of the girl he would never see again. car model He was hungry, but he did not eat. He was cramped, but he did not move. He picked up the books she had given him. He was quickened by the powdery beauty of Youth's Encounter ; by the vision of laughter and dancing steps beneath a streaky gas-glow in the London fog; of youth not "roughhousing" and wanting to "be a sport," yet in frail beauty and faded crimson banners finding such exaltation as Schoenstrom had never known. But every page suggested Claire, and he tucked the book away. In Vachel Lindsay's Congo , in a poem called "The Santa Fe Trail," he found his own modern pilgrimage from another point of view. Here was the poet, disturbed by the honking hustle of passing cars. But Milt belonged to the honking and the hustle, and it was not the soul of the grass that he read in the poem, but his own sun-flickering flight: religion pioneer sound Swiftly the brazen car comes on. It burns in the East as the sunrise burns. I see great flashes where the far trail turns. Butting through the delicate mists of the morning, It comes like lightning, goes past roaring, It will hail all the windmills, taunting, ringing, On through the ranges the prairie-dog tills— Scooting past the cattle on the thousand hills. Ho for the tear-horn, scare-horn, dare-horn, Ho for the gay-horn, bark-horn, bay-horn. intertext car speed road fog sound animal scenery mountain personification Milt did not reflect that if the poet had watched the Teal bug go by, he would not have recorded a scare-horn, a dare-horn, or anything mightier than a yip-horn. Milt saw himself a cross-continent racer, with the envious poet, left behind as a dot on the hill, celebrating his passing. car model driver "Lord!" he cried. "I didn't know there were books like these! Thought poetry was all like Longfellow and Byron. Old boys. Europe. And rhymed bellyachin' about hard luck. But these books—they're me." Very carefully: "No; they're I! And she gave 'em to me! I will see her again! But she won't know it. Now be sensible, son! What do you expect? Oh—nothing. I'll just go on, and sneak in one more glimpse of her to take back with me where I belong." Half an hour after Claire had innocently passed his ambush, he began to follow her. But not for days was he careless. If he saw her on the horizon he paused until she was out of sight. That he might not fail her in need, he bought a ridiculously expensive pair of field glasses, and watched her when she stopped by the road. Once, when both her right rear tire and the spare were punctured before she could make a town, Milt from afar saw her patch a tube, pump up the tire in the dust. He ached to go to her aid—though it cannot be said that hand-pumping was his favorite July afternoon sport. car part accident road side maintenance Lest he encounter her in the streets, he always camped to the eastward of the town at which she spent the night. After dusk, when she was likely to end the day's drive in the first sizable place, he hid his bug in an alley and, like a spy after the papers, sneaked into each garage to see if her car was there. car model garage He would stroll in, look about vacuously, and pipe to the suspicious night attendant, "Seen a traveling man named Smith?" Usually the garage man snarled, "No, I ain't seen nobody named Smith. An'thing else I can do for you?" But once he was so unlucky as to find the long-missing Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith was surprised and insistent. Milt had to do some quick lying. During that interview the cement floor felt very hard under his fidgeting feet, and he thought he heard the garage man in the office telephoning, "Don't think he knows Smith at all. I got a hunch he's that auto thief that was through here last summer." When Claire did not stop in the first town she reached after twilight, but drove on by dark, he had to do some perilous galloping to catch up. The lights of a Teal are excellent for adornment, but they have no relation to illumination. They are dependent upon a magneto which is dependent only upon faith. twilight driving night risk metaphor car model car part vision Once, skittering along by dark, he realized that the halted car which he had just passed was the Gomez. He thought he heard a shout behind him, but in a panic he kept going. night car model To the burring motor he groaned, "Now I probably never will see her again. Except that she thinks I'm such a pest that I dassn't let her know I'm in the same state, I sure am one successful lover. As a Prince Charming I win the Vanderbilt Cup. I'm going ahead backwards so fast I'll probably drop off into the Atlantic over the next hill!" sound car Chapter IX [ edit | edit source ] THE MAN WITH AGATE EYES (101-111) When her car had crossed the Missouri River on the swing-ferry between Bismarck and Mandan, Claire had passed from Middle West to Far West. She came out on an upland of virgin prairie, so treeless and houseless, so divinely dipping, so rough of grass, that she could imagine buffaloes still roving. In a hollow a real prairie schooner was camped, and the wandering homestead-seekers were cooking dinner beside it. From a quilt on the hay in the wagon a baby peeped, and Claire's heart leaped. scenery river West Beyond was her first butte, its sharp-cut sides glittering yellow, and she fancied that on it the Sioux scout still sat sentinel, erect on his pony, the feather bonnet down his back. mountain Now she seemed to breathe deeper, see farther. Again she came from unbroken prairie into wheat country and large towns. Her impression of the new land was not merely of sun-glaring breadth. Sometimes, on a cloudy day, the wash of wheatlands was as brown and lowering and mysterious as an English moor in the mist. It dwarfed the far-off houses by its giant enchantment; its brooding reaches changed her attitude of brisk, gas-driven efficiency into a melancholy that was full of hints of old dark beauty. Even when the sun came out, and the land was brazenly optimistic, she saw more than just prosperity. In a new home, house and barn and windmill square-cornered and prosaic, plumped down in a field with wheat coming up to the unporticoed door, a habitation unshadowed, unsheltered, unsoftened, she found a frank cleanness, as though the inhabitants looked squarely out at life, unafraid. She felt that the keen winds ought to blow away from such a prairie-fronting post of civilization all mildew and cowardice, all the mummy dust of ancient fears. These were not peasants, these farmers. Nor, she learned, were they the "hicks" of humor. She could never again encounter without fiery resentment the Broadway peddler's faith that farmers invariably say "Waal, by heck." For she had spent an hour talking to one Dakota farmer, genial-eyed, quiet of speech. He had explained the relation of alfalfa to soil-chemistry; had spoken of his daughter, who taught economics in a state university; and asked Mr. Boltwood how turbines were hitched up on liners. In fact, Claire learned that there may be an almost tolerable state of existence without gardenias or the news about the latest Parisian imagists. She dropped suddenly from the vast, smooth-swelling miles of wheatland into the tortured marvels of the Bad Lands, and the road twisted in the shadow of flying buttresses and the terraced tombs of maharajas. While she tried to pick her way through a herd of wild, arroyo-bred cattle, she forgot her maneuvering as she was startled by the stabbing scarlet of a column of rock marking the place where for months deep beds of lignite had burned. road animal Claire had often given lifts to tramping harvesters and even hoboes along the road; had enjoyed the sight of their duffle-bags stuck up between the sleek fenders and the hood, and their talk about people and crops along the road, as they hung on the running-board. In the country of long hillslopes and sentinel buttes between the Dakota Bad Lands and Miles City she stopped to shout to a man whose plodding heavy back looked fagged, "Want a ride?" hitchhiker car part "Sure! You bet!" Usually her guests stepped on the right-hand running-board, beside Mr. Boltwood, and this man was far over on the right side of the road. But, while she waited, he sauntered in front of the car, round to her side, mounted beside her. Before the car had started, she was sorry to have invited him. He looked her over grinningly, almost contemptuously. His unabashed eyes were as bright and hard as agates. Below them, his nose was twisted a little, his mouth bent insolently up at one corner, and his square long chin bristled. hitchhiker car part road side Usually, too, her passengers waited for her to start the conversation, and talked at Mr. Boltwood rather than directly to her. But the bristly man spat at her as the car started, "Going far?" driver gender "Ye-es, some distance." "Expensive car?" car "Why——" "'Fraid of getting held up?" "I hadn't thought about it." "Pack a cannon, don't you?" "I don't think I quite understand." "Cannon! Gun! Revolver! Got a revolver, of course?" "W-why, no." She spoke uncomfortably. She was aware that his twinkling eyes were on her throat. His look made her feel unclean. She tried to think of some question which would lead the conversation to the less exclamatory subject of crops. They were on a curving shelf road beside a shallow valley. The road was one side of a horseshoe ten miles long. The unprotected edge of it dropped sharply to fields forty or fifty feet below. road mountain risk "Prosperous-looking wheat down there," she said. "No. Not a bit!" His look seemed to add, "And you know it—unless you're a fool!" "Well, I didn't——" "Make Glendive tonight?" "At least that far." "Say, lady, how's the chance for borrowin' a couple of dollars? I was workin' for a Finnski back here a ways, and he did me dirt—holdin' out my wages on me till the end of the month." "Why, uh——" It was Claire, not the man, who was embarrassed. He was snickering, "Come on, don't be a tightwad. Swell car—poor man with no eats, not even a two-bits flop for tonight. Could yuh loosen up and slip me just a couple bones?" car class Mr. Boltwood intervened. He looked as uncomfortable as Claire. "We'll see. It's rather against my principles to give money to an able-bodied man like you, even though it is a pleasure to give you a ride——" "Sure! Don't cost you one red cent!" "—and if I could help you get a job, though of course—— Being a stranger out here—— Seems strange to me, though," Mr. Boltwood struggled on, "that a strong fellow like you should be utterly destitute, when I see all these farmers able to have cars——" class Their guest instantly abandoned his attitude of supplication for one of boasting: "Destitute? Who the hell said I was destitute, heh?" He was snarling across Claire at Mr. Boltwood. His wet face was five inches from hers. She drew her head as far back as she could. She was sure that the man completely appreciated her distaste, for his eyes popped with amusement before he roared on: "I got plenty of money! Just 'cause I'm hoofin' it—— I don't want no charity from nobody! I could buy out half these Honyockers! I don't need none of no man's money!" He was efficiently working himself into a rage. "Who you calling destitute? All I wanted was an advance till pay day! Got a check coming. You high-tone, kid-glove Eastern towerists want to watch out who you go calling destitute. I bet I make a lot more money than a lot of your four-flushin' friends!" Claire wondered if she couldn't stop the car now, and tell him to get off. But—that snapping eye was too vicious. Before he got off he would say things—scarring, vile things, that would never heal in her brain. Her father was murmuring, "Let's drop him," but she softly lied, "No. His impertinence amuses me." risk hitchhiker She drove on, and prayed that he would of himself leave his uncharitable hosts at the next town. driving affect The man was storming—with a very meek ending: "I'm tellin' you! I can make money anywhere! I'm a crack machinist.... Give me two-bits for a meal, anyway." Mr. Boltwood reached in his change pocket. He had no quarter. He pulled out a plump bill-fold. Without looking at the man, Claire could vision his eyes glistening and his chops dripping as he stared at the hoard. Mr. Boltwood handed him a dollar bill. "There, take that, and let's change the subject," said Mr. Boltwood testily. "All right, boss. Say, you haven't got a cartwheel instead of this wrapping paper, have you? I like to feel my money in my pocket." "No, sir, I have not!" "All right, boss. No bad feelin's!" Then he ignored Mr. Boltwood. His eyes focused on Claire's face. To steady himself on the running-board he had placed his left hand on the side of the car, his right on the back of the seat. That right hand slid behind her. She could feel its warmth on her back. car part She burst out, flaring, "Kindly do not touch me!" "Gee, did I touch you, girlie? Why, that's a shame!" he drawled, his cracked broad lips turning up in a grin. An instant later, as they skipped round a bend of the long, high-hung shelf road, he pretended to sway dangerously on the running-board, and deliberately laid his filthy hand on her shoulder. Before she could say anything he yelped in mock-regret, "Love o' Mike! 'Scuse me, lady. I almost fell off." road car part Quietly, seriously, Claire said, "No, that wasn't accidental. If you touch me again, I'll stop the car and ask you to walk." driver gender "Better do it now, dolly!" snapped Mr. Boltwood. The man hooked his left arm about the side-post of the open window-shield. It was a strong arm, a firm grip. He seized her left wrist with his free hand. Though all the while his eyes grotesquely kept their amused sparkle, and beside them writhed laughter-wrinkles, he shouted hoarsely, "You'll stop hell!" His hand slid from her wrist to the steering wheel. "I can drive this boat's well as you can. You make one move to stop, and I steer her over—— Blooie! Down the bank!" car part metaphor risk hitchhiker driver He did twist the front wheels dangerously near to the outer edge of the shelf road. Mr. Boltwood gazed at the hand on the wheel. With a quick breath Claire looked at the side of the road. If the car ran off, it would shoot down forty feet ... turning over and over. car part road side risk "Y-you wouldn't dare, because you'd g-go, too!" she panted. "Well, dearuh, you just try any monkey business and you'll find out how much I'll gggggggo-too! I'll start you down the joy-slope and jump off, savvy? Take your foot off that clutch." car part She obeyed. "Pretty lil feet, ain't they, cutie! Shoes cost about twelve bucks, I reckon. While a better man than you or old moldy-face there has to hit the pike in three-dollar brogans. Sit down, yuh fool!" car part class This last to Mr. Boltwood, who had stood up, swaying with the car, and struck at him. With a huge arm the man swept Mr. Boltwood back into the seat, but without a word to her father, he continued to Claire: "And keep your hand where it belongs. Don't go trying to touch that switch. Aw, be sensible! What would you do if the car did stop? I could blackjack you both before this swell-elegant vehickle lost momentum, savvy? I don't want to pay out my good money to a lawyer on a charge of—murder. Get me? Better take it easy and not worry." His hand was constantly on the wheel. He had driven cars before. He was steering as much as she. "When I get you up the road a piece I'm going to drive all the cute lil boys and girls up a side trail, and take all of papa's gosh-what-a-wad in the cunnin' potet-book, and I guess we'll kiss lil daughter, and drive on, a-wavin' our hand politely, and let you suckers walk to the next burg." car part risk car driver skill "You wouldn't dare! You wouldn't dare!" "Dare? Huh! Don't make the driver laugh!" "I'll get help!" "Yep. Sure. Fact, there's a car comin' toward us. 'Bout a mile away I'd make it, wouldn't you? Well, dollface, if you make one peep—over the bank you go, both of you dead as a couplin'-pin. Smeared all over those rocks. Get me? And me—I'll be sorry the regrettable accident was so naughty and went and happened—and I just got off in time meself. And I'll pinch papa's poke while I'm helping get out the bodies!" car accident risk Till now she hadn't believed it. But she dared not glance at the approaching car. It was their interesting guest who steered the Gomez past the other; and he ran rather too near the edge of the road ... so that she looked over, down. car model skill Beaming, he went on, "I'd pull the rough stuff right here, instead of wastin' my time as a cap'n of industry by taking you up to see the scenery in that daisy little gully off the road; but the whole world can see us along here—the hicks in the valley and anybody that happens to sneak along in a car behind us. Shame the way this road curves—see too far along it. Fact, you're giving me a lot of trouble. But you'll give me a kiss, won't you, Gwendolyn?" He bent down, chuckling. She could feel his bristly chin touch her cheek. She sprang up, struck at him. He raised his hand from the wheel. For a second the car ran without control. He jabbed her back into the seat with his elbow. "Don't try any more monkey-shines, if you know what's good for you," he said, quite peacefully, as he resumed steering. driver risk gender car part She was in a haze, conscious only of her father's hand fondling hers. She heard a quick pit-pit-pit-pit behind them. Car going to pass? She'd have to let it go by. She'd concentrate on finding something she could—— sound onomatopoeia Then, "Hello, folks. Having a picnic? Who's your little friend in the rompers?" sang out a voice beside them. It was Milt Daggett—the Milt who must be scores of miles ahead. His bug had caught up with them, was running even with them on the broad road. car model Chapter X [ edit | edit source ] THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE HILLSIDE ROAD (112-118) So unexpectedly, so genially, that Claire wondered if he realized what was happening, Milt chuckled to the tough on the running-board, as the two cars ran side by side, "Bound for some place, brother?" car part risk The unwelcome guest looked puzzled. For the first time his china eyes ceased twinkling; and he answered dubiously: "Just gettin' a lift." He sped up the car with the hand-throttle. Milt accelerated equally. car part risk speed hitchhiker Claire roused; wanted to shout. She was palsied afraid that Milt would leave them. The last time she had seen him, she had suggested that leaving them would be a favor. affect risk Her guest growled at her—the words coming through a slit at the corner of his rowdy mouth, "Sit still, or I'll run you over." Milt innocently babbled on, "Better come ride with me, bo'. More room in this-here handsome coupelet." car Then was the rough relieved in his uneasy tender little heart, and his eyes flickered again as he shouted back, not looking at Milt, "Thanks, bub, I'll stick by me friends." "Oh no; can't lose pleasure of your company. I like your looks. You're a bloomin' little island way off on the dim silver skyline." Claire knitted her brows. She had not seen Milt's rhetoric. "You're an island of Hesperyds or Hesperides. Accent on the bezuzus. Oh, yes, moondream, I think you better come. Haven't decided"—Milt's tone was bland—"whether to kill you or just have you pinched. Miss Boltwood! Switch off your power!" "If she does," the tough shouted, "I'll run 'em off the bank." "No, you won't, sweetheart, 'cause why? 'Cause what'll I do to you afterwards?" "You won't do nothin', Jack, 'cause I'd gouge your eyes out." "Why, lovesoul, d' you suppose I'd be talking up as brash as this to a bid, stwong man like oo if I didn't have a gun handy?" "Yuh, I guess so, lil sunbeam. And before you could shoot, I'd crowd your tin liz into the bank, and jam right into it! I may get killed, but you won't even be a grease-spot!" metaphor He was turning the Gomez from its straight course, forcing Milt's bug toward the high bank of earth which walled in the road on the left. car model driver While Claire was very sick with fear, then more sick with contempt, Milt squealed, "You win!" And he had dropped back. The Gomez was going on alone. car model risk There was only one thing more for Claire—to jump. And that meant death. The tough was storming, "Your friend's a crack shot—with his mouth!" The thin pit-pit-pit was coming again. She looked back. She saw Milt's bug snap forward so fast that on a bump its light wheels were in the air. She saw Milt standing on the right side of the bug holding the wheel with one hand, and the other hand—firm, grim, broad-knuckled hand—outstretched toward the tough, then snatching at his collar. sound onomatopoeia car model speed car part skill risk The tough's grip was torn from the steering wheel. He was yanked from the running-board. He crunched down on the road. car part She seized the wheel. She drove on at sixty miles an hour. She had gone a good mile before she got control of her fear and halted. She saw Milt turn his little car as though it were a prancing bronco. It seemed to paw the air with its front wheels. He shot back, pursuing the late guest. The man ran bobbing along the road. At this distance he was no longer formidable, but a comic, jerking, rabbity figure, humping himself over the back track. car part affect speed As the bug whirled down on him, the tough was to be seen throwing up his hands, leaping from the high bank. Milt turned again and came toward them, but slowly; and after he had drawn up even and switched off the engine, he snatched off his violent plaid cap and looked apologetic. slowness engine "Sorry I had to kid him along. I was afraid he really would drive you off the bank. He was a bad actor. And he was right; he could have licked me. Thought maybe I could jolly him into getting off, and have him pinched, next town." "But you had a gun—a revolver—didn't you, lad?" panted Mr. Boltwood. "Um, wellllll—— I've got a shotgun. It wouldn't take me more 'n five or ten minutes to dig it out, and put it together. And there's some shells. They may be all right. Haven't looked at 'em since last fall. They didn't get so awful damp then." "But suppose he'd had a revolver himself?" wailed Claire. "Gee, you know, I thought he probably did have one. I was scared blue. I had a wrench to throw at him though," confided Milt. "How did you know we needed you?" "Why back there, couple miles behind you, maybe I saw your father get up and try to wrestle him, so I suspected there was kind of a disagreement. Say, Miss Boltwood, you know when you spoke to me—way back there—I hadn't meant to butt in. Honest. I thought maybe as we were going——" "Oh, I know!" "—the same way, you wouldn't mind my trailing, if I didn't sit in too often; and I thought maybe I could help you if——" "Oh, I know! I'm so ashamed! So bitterly ashamed! I just meant—— Will you forgive me? You were so good, taking care of us——" "Oh, sure, that's all right!" "I fancy you do know how grateful father and I are that you were behind us, this time! Wasn't it a lucky accident that we'd slipped past you some place!" "Yes," dryly, "quite an accident. Well, I'll skip on ahead again. May run into you again before we hit Seattle. Going to take the run through Yellowstone Park?" "Yes, but——" began Claire. Her father interrupted: "Uh, Mr., uh—Daggett, was it?—I wonder if you won't stay a little closer to us hereafter? I was getting rather a good change out of the trip, but I'm afraid that now—— If it wouldn't be an insult, I'd beg you to consider staying with us for a consideration, uh, you know, remuneration, and you could——" "Thanks, uh, thank you, sir, but I wouldn't like to do it. You see, it's kind of my vacation. If I've done anything I'm tickled——" "But perhaps," Mr. Boltwood ardently begged the young man recently so abysmally unimportant, "perhaps you would consent to being my guest, when you cared to—say at hotels in the Park." "'Fraid I couldn't. I'm kind of a lone wolf." "Please! Pretty please!" besought Claire. Her smile was appealing, her eyes on his. Milt bit his knuckles. He looked weak. But he persisted, "No, you'll get over this scrap with our friend. By the way, I'll put the deputy onto him, in the next town. He'll never get out of the county. When you forget him—— Oh no, you can go on fine. You're a good steady driver, and the road's perfectly safe—if you give people the once-over before you pick 'em up. Picking up badmen is no more dangerous here than it would be in New York. Fact, there's lot more hold-ups in any city than in the wildest country. I don't think you showed such awfully good taste in asking Terrible Tim, the two-gun man, right into the parlor. Gee, please don't do it again! Please!" "No," meekly. "I was an idiot. I'll be good, next time. But won't you stay somewhere near us?" "I'd like to, but I got to chase on. Don't want to wear out the welcome on the doormat, and I'm due in Seattle, and—— Say, Miss Boltwood." He swung out of the bug, cranked up, climbed back, went awkwardly on, "I read those books you gave me. They're slick—mean to say, interesting. Where that young fellow in Youth's Encounter wanted to be a bishop and a soldier and everything—— Just like me, except Schoenstrom is different, from London, some ways! I always wanted to be a brakie, and then a yeggman. But I wasn't bright enough for either. I just became a garage man. And I—— Some day I'm going to stop using slang. But it'll take an operation!" car He was streaking down the road, and Claire was sobbing, "Oh, the lamb, the darling thing! Fretting about his slang, when he wasn't afraid in that horrible nightmare. If we could just do something for him!" "Don't you worry about him, dolly. He's a very energetic chap. And—— Uh—— Mightn't we drive on a little farther, perhaps? I confess that the thought of our recent guest still in this vicinity——" "Yes, and—— Oh, I'm shameless. If Mohammed Milton won't stay with our car mountain, we're going to tag after him." metaphor But when she reached the next hill, with its far shining outlook, there was no Milt and no Teal bug on the road ahead. car model road +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Lindsay, Vachel Genre Poetry Journal or Book Adventures While Preaching the Gospel of Beauty Publisher Macmillan Year of Publication 1916 Pages 99-100 Additional information - Upon Returning to the Country Road rural On the road to nowhere What wild oats did you sow When you left your father's house With your cheeks aglow? Eyes so strained and eager To see what you might see? Were you thief of were you fool Or most nobly free? Were the tramp-days knightly, True sowing of wild seed? Did you dare to make the songs Vanquished workmen need? Did you waste much money To deck a leper's feast? Love the truth, defy the crowd Scandalize the priest? On the road to nowhere What wild oats did you sow? Stupids find the nowhere-road Dusty, grim and slow. metaphor plant road condition slowness Ere their sowing's ended They turn them on their track, Look at the caitiff craven wights Repentant, hurrying back! Grown ashamed of nowhere, Of rags endured for years, Lust for velvet in their hearts, Pierced with Mammon's spears, All but a few fanatics Give up their darling goal, Seek to be as others are, Stultify the soul. Reapings now confront them, Glut them, or destroy. Curious seeds, grain or weeds Sown with awful joy. Hurried is their harvest, They make soft peace with men. Pilgrims pass. They care not, Will not tramp again. O nowhere, golden nowhere! Sages and fools go on To your chaotic ocean, To your tremendous dawn. Far in your fair dream-haven, Is nothing or is all... They press on, singing, sowing Wild deeds without recall!inging, sowing Wild deeds without recall! +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author McKay, Claude Genre Poetry Journal or Book Constab Ballads Publisher Watts & Co. Year of Publication 1912 Pages 59-61 Additional information - Batch o' p'licemen, lookin' fine, Tramp away to de car line; No more pólicemen can be Smart as those from Half Way Tree: Happy, all have happy faces, For 'tis Knutsford Park big races. car No room in de tram fe stan': "Oh! de races will be gran',— Wonder ef good luck we'll hab, Get fe win a couple bob!" Joyous, only joyous faces, Goin' to de Knutsford races. Motor buggy passin' by, Sendin' dus' up to de sky; P'licemen, posted diffran' place, Buy dem ticket on de race: Look now for de anxious faces At de Knutsford Park big races! car exhaust pollution Big-tree boys a t'row dem dice: "P'lice te-day no ha' no v'ice,— All like we, so dem caan' mell,— Mek we gamble laka hell”: Rowdy, rowdy-looking faces At de Knutsford Park big races. Ladies white an' brown an' black, Fine as fine in gala frock, Wid dem race-card in dem han' Pass 'long to de dollar stan': Happy-lookin' lady faces At de Knutsford Park big races. Ge'men wid dem smart spy-glass, Well equip' fe spot dem harse, Dress' in Yankee-fashion clo'es, Watch de flag as do'n it goes: Oh! de eager, eager faces At de Knutsford Park big races! Faces of all types an' kinds, Faces showin' diffran' minds, Faces from de udder seas— Right from de antipodes: Oh! de many various faces Seen at Knutsford Park big races! Jockeys lookin' quite dem bes', In deir racin' clo'es all dress' (Judge de feelin's how dem proud) Show de harses to de crowd: Now you'll see de knowin' faces At de Knutsford Park big races. Soldier ban', formed in a ring, Strike up "God save our king"; Gub'nor come now by God's grace To de Knutsford Park big race: High faces among low faces At de Knutsford Park big races. Ladies, 'teppin' up quite cool, Buy dem tickets at de pool; Dough 'tis said he's got a jerk, Dere's no harse like Billie Burke: Look roun' at de cock-sure faces At de Knutsford Park big races. animal Hey! de flag is gone do'n, oh! Off at grips de harses go! Dainty's leadin' at a boun', Stirrup-cup is gainin' ground': Strainin', eager strainin' faces At de Knutsford Park big races. Last day o' de race—all's done, An' de course is left alone; Everybody's goin' home, Some more light dan when dey'd come: Oh! de sad, de bitter faces After Knutsford Park big races!es! +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Naylor, James Ball Genre Poetry Journal or Book Collier’s Publisher - Year of Publication 1909 Pages 22 Additional information - I’m the coy and ingenuous toy of the strenuous Era of Civilized Man, I’m the truly respectable, duly delectable Outcome of project and plan; And my gassy and thunderful, massy and wonderful Shape splits the landscape in twain, As I race where the fountain speaks grace to the mountain peaks— Then over valley and plain. driving mountain personification technology sound topography Oh! it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the song I sing In the cool of the morning gray, And it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the raucous ring Of my voice at the close of day; And the echoes wake—and the echoes quake, In their sylvan retreats afar; For I am the fizzing, the buzzing, and whizzing, Redoubtable Motor Car! car sound onomatopoeia speed I’m the snappiest, pluckiest, happy-go-luckiest Work of Man’s reckless career— The machine of divinity green asininity Never can conquer or steer; And there’s never a note or bar honked by the Motor Car Rounding an angle or curve, But it cheats the pedestrian—beats the equestrian— Out of his poise and his nerve. car driving sound pedestrian animal For it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the song I sing In the blaze of the noonday bright, And it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the raucous ring Of my voice in the starry night; And the echoes quake and shiver and shake, In their rocky retreats afar; For I am the puffing, the chugging, and chuffing And masterful Motor Car! car sound night Through the haze of the dreamiest days of the gleamiest Summers I speed to and fro, In the height of the glorious, mighty, uproarious Tempest I come and I go; I’m the tool and the servant, the cool and observant Rare creature of project and plan, And the coy and ingenuous toy of the strenuous Era of Civilized Man. metaphor summer technology wind personification And it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the song I sing In the cool of the ev'ning’s hush. And it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the raucous ring Of my voice in the morning’s blush; And in the echoes wake—and the echoes shake, In their woody retreats afar; For I am the purring, the whizzing, and whirring And marvelous Motor Car! car sound +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Oppenheim, James Genre Poetry Journal or Book Songs for the New Age Publisher The Century Co. Year of Publication 1914 Pages 9-10 Additional information - Civilization! Everybody kind and gentle, and men giving up their seats in the car for the women... What an ideal! How bracing! car car part Is this what we want? Have so many generations lived and died for this? There have been Crusades, persecutions, wars, and majestic arts, There have been murders and passions and horrors since man was in the jungle... What was this blood-toll for? Just so that everybody could have a full belly and be well-mannered? But let us not fool ourselves: This civilization is mostly varnish very thinly laid on... Take any newspaper any morning: scan through it... Rape, murder, villany, and picking and stealing: The mob that tore a negro to pieces, the men that ravished a young girl: The safe-blowing gang and the fat cowardly promoter who stole people’s savings... Just scan it through: this news of civilization... Away then, with soft ideals: Brace yourself with bitterness: A drink of that biting liquor, the Truth... Let us not be afraid of ourselves, but face ourselves and confess what we are: Let us go backward a while that we may go forward: This is an excellent age for insurrection, revolt, and the reddest of revolutions...t, and the reddest of revolutions... +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Parker, Dorothy Genre Poetry Journal or Book Enough Rope Publisher Horace Liveright Year of Publication 1926 Pages 82 Additional information - Now it’s over, and now it’s done; Why does everything look the same? Just as bright, the unheeding sun,— Can’t it see that the parting came? People hurry and work and swear, Laugh and grumble and die and wed, Ponder what they will eat and wear,— Don’t they know that our love is dead? Just as busy, the crowded street; Cars and wagons go rolling on, Children chuckle, and lovers meet,— Don’t they know that our love is gone? No one pauses to pay a tear; None walks slow, for the love that’s through,— I might mention, my recent dear, I’ve reverted to normal, too. car street urban traffic +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o’Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 20 Additional information - We wrote to a friend back east one day, And told him all we thought to say. We filled a dozen pages or more, Of the glories of this far western shore. He said, when he answered in reply, "I thought that heaven was up on high. From what you say of your state so fair, I think that heaven must be out there." "If your highways all are paved so grand, And stars so bright o'er all the land, The mountain streams beyond compare, Then surely heaven must be out there." infrastructure highway mountain river road surface sublime metaphysics "I thought that heaven was free from toil, But your letter says you till the soil. Yet, if you have such wonderful air, Where is heaven if not out there?" "The rising sun you say is fine, And the early morning like red wine. To be sure," he said, "I must declare, From what you write me heaven is there." "Have you received your starry crown?" He said, "Your cross, have you laid down, Do all the angels have blonde hair, In this heaven you write me of out there?" "You say it's filled with those who play, And more are coming every day, Yet, there is always room to spare. Please tell me more of heaven out there." We wrote him, "We can tell no more, But when you reach this western shore, Studebakers you'll see them everywhere." Then, he said, "Heaven is there." affect car car model west metaphysics —The Car with Character. —The Car with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 17 Additional information - When we view the mountains all around, From their vast stillness not a sound, They seem just like some silent friend On whom we safely can depend. They rise to proud and lofty height, Forbidding and dark are they at night. Their summits kiss the heavens high, They ever remind us God is nigh. If the mountains were never stationed there, We would not have the purified air, Nor would flowing rivers be sustained, If in the mountains it never rained. On mountain height both east and west, For every living mortal there is rest. We view the peaks in contemplation Of God's great plan for all creation. The clouds in glory round them spread, The sun in grandeur settles on their head. Winter stays to chill the month of May, The lightning fondly choose them for their play. The mountains grim forever stand, While men will roam about the land. Men are fond of other men to greet, Mountains never have been known to meet. Of the peaks around both high and low, The one we favor most is San Antonio. We like to go up there whene'er we can, It's easy in a Studebaker Six Sedan. mountain car model —The Car with Character. —The Car with Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 18 Additional information - 'Twas out on Garey north of town, They had their auto curtains down, Spooning there without a light, At ten o'clock the other night. urban car night We saw them by our headlight's glare, Through their windshield sitting there, Oblivious to the world around, They kissed and made but little sound. car part visibility pleasure 'Twas loves young dream possessed the two, The thing that once got hold of you, We smiled, we did not have the heart To cause the two to pull apart. In the shadows of the trees above, Their kisses told us of their love, No bliss to either one was missing, They put it all into their kissing. The fragrancy of flowers of spring, While she to him did tightly cling, Came to us from the little Miss, Each time her lips he gave a kiss. Their kisses did not sound so loud, As thunder from the stormy cloud, But the echoes will much longer last, From those he planted hard and fast. "I rest content, I kiss your eyes," He said, "How fast the evening flies! I kiss your hair in my delight, I'd like to kiss you all the night." You wonder how it was our fate, To hear so much that night so late. You can easy do such little tricks, With the Silent Studebaker Six. sound night technology car model —The Car wih Character. —The Car wih Character. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 181-182 Additional information - Married life is a funny thing, We take the fling with a wedding ring. With some its one continuous fight, They kick and scratch and sometimes bite. God made all things to live by pair, The beasts of field and birds of air He made to make no bad mistakes, But man he left to make some breaks. The creatures dumb of all the earth, By Nature’s laws are giving birth. But laws of God for good of man, By men are broken out of ban. When man does choose his mate for life, He would avoid so much of strife, If he would use his common sense, And not so often be so dense. For men who fail to keep in sight, The laws of God for doing right, The laws of man are also made, With price to pay if you evade. But married life will have its flaws, Till states alike have divorce laws. They’ve got to come to save the home, Or things will be just like Old Rome. Words so sweet and words of leaven, Are those of Mother, Home and Heaven. When these we learn and get them clear, No more divorce we then will fear. To man his married life’s a boon, If it is sweet and right in tune. But fights and scraps and family jars, Are worse than some old motor cars. car metaphor When trouble brews twixt man and wife, As troubles do in married life, Take our advice and seek a breaker, The best for you is a Studebaker. — The Car with Character. car model safety car model safety +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 196 Additional information - There came to us a vision of life’s perpetual dream, We made our decision to follow up the gleam. We could build a fortune big and doubly sure, Raising market rabbits if the breed was pure. We bought up all the lumber in Curran’s lumber yard, Built a thousand hutches, for cost had no regard. Faithfully with many tools we labored every day, Fully settled in our mind we’d make the rabbits pay. We were told by rabbit men, buy only blooded stock, Every breeder of a kind would all the others knock. To get the weight it seemed to us the safe and easy way, Only raise the blooded stock of purest Belgian gray. So we bought at fancy price a hundred for a start, We’d show the rabbit men that we were very smart. We saw them grow and multiply, built castles in the air, Figured what we’d also buy from raising Belgian hare. A fleet of latest motor cars, the best ones ever built, Masterpieces, too, of art in frames of finest gilt. Profits from our rabbits would buy us many things, Wipe away the loss our orchard always brings. car sublime But rabbits often figure out in real the other way, We weren’t slow in finding out, buying Hinman hay. For every dollar rabbits brought two was spent for grain, We sold a million, more or less, but not a cent of gain. Had we the balance of our life raised only Belgian hare, In years a few, at best, our cupboard would be bare. A bankrupt we would turn to be and die a debtor slave, Rabbits beat the world to eat a man into his grave. Man is dreaming when he says, money he has made, Raising Belgian rabbits as his only line of trade. We had our fun, quit the game, for a better profit-maker, The rest of life we’ll be content in selling Studebaker. car model safety +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Reynolds, Elsbery Washington Genre Poetry Journal or Book AutoLine o'Type Publisher The Book Supply Company Year of Publication 1924 Pages 62-63 Additional information - law A friend, to us did come who’s sore, You should have heard his awful roar. A copper on the great high-way Caught him in a trap one day. highway infrastructure sound zoomorphism The trap was some few hundred feet, The cop was on his motor, fleet. With watch in hand he felt so nifty And made our friend out doing fifty. driving motorcycle speed car metaphor One second more and he’d done ninety, The cops they worked it almost nightly. No show our friend would ever get When face to face the judge he met. risk speed No one has yet a copper known Whose word’s not better than your own. No judge has ever yet been found With whom your word would fair go down. But now our friend’s in greatest glee, The palmy days are o’er you see. The law has stopped the use of traps To curb abuse of motor chaps. Our friend, to us he did confide That motor cops would have to ride. No more hiding by the road, No more chance our friend to goad. driving No more loafing on the job, No more innocents to rob. They must ride both night and day If they can hope to earn their pay. driving time No more poker in the shade, No more chance to make a raid. No more chance for them to hide, They must ride and ride and ride. driving It long has been our own opinion, That here within our small dominion, Many men have paid a fine Just from persecution blind. If all our officers were true And treated as the same as you, Our friend would then feel he were safer Where'er he'd go in a Studebaker. —The Car wih Character.acter. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Sandburg, Carl Genre Poetry Journal or Book Chicago Poems Publisher Henry Holt and Company Year of Publication 1916 Pages 12 Additional information - Dust of the feet And dust of the wheels, Wagons and people going, All day feet and wheels. dust car part pedestrianism traffic urban Now. . . . . Only stars and mist A lonely policeman, Two cabaret dancers, Stars and mist again, No more feet or wheels, No more dust and wagons. car part dust Voices of dollars And drops of blood . . . . . Voices of broken hearts, . . Voices singing, singing, . . Silver voices, singing, Softer than the stars, Softer than the mist. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Sandburg, Carl Genre Poetry Journal or Book Chicago Poems Publisher Henry Holt and Company Year of Publication 1916 Pages 153 Additional information - Let us be honest; the lady was not a harlot until she married a corporation lawyer who picked her from a Ziegfeld chorus. Before then she never took anybody's money and paid for her silk stockings out of what she earned singing and dancing. She loved one man and he loved six women and the game was changing her looks, calling for more and more massage money and high coin for the beauty doctors. Now she drives a long, underslung motor car all by her- self, reads in the day's papers what her husband is doing to the inter-state commerce commission, re- quires a larger corsage from year to year, and won- ders sometimes how one man is coming along with six women. car driver metaphorwomen. car driver metaphor +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Sandburg, Carl Genre Poetry Journal or Book Cornhuskers Publisher Henry Holt and Company Year of Publication 1918 Pages 55 Additional information - It's a lean car… a long-legged dog of a car… a gray-ghost eagle car. The feet of it eat the dirt of a road… the wings of it eat the hills. Danny the driver dreams of it when he sees women in red skirts and red sox in his sleep. It is in Danny's life and runs in the blood of him… a lean gray-ghost car. animal zoomorphism car driver personificationersonification +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Service, Robert William Genre Poetry Journal or Book Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses Publisher Barse & Hopkins Year of Publication 1907 Pages 62-63 Additional information - One said: Thy life is thine to make or mar, To flicker feebly, or to soar, a star; It lies with thee—the choice is thine, is thine, To hit the ties or drive thy auto-car. car metaphor metaphysics I answered Her: The choice is mine—ah, no! We all were made or marred long, long ago. The parts are written; hear the super wail: "Who is stage-managing this cosmic show?" Blind fools of fate and slaves of circumstance, Life is a fiddler, and we all must dance. From gloom where mocks that will-o'-wisp, Free-will I heard a voice cry: "Say, give us a chance." Chance! Oh, there is no chance! The scene is set. Up with the curtain! Man, the marionette, Resumes his part. The gods will work the wires. They've got it all down fine, you bet, you bet! It's all decreed—the mighty earthquake crash; The countless constellations' wheel and flash; The rise and fall of empires, war's red tide; The composition of your dinner hash. There's no haphazard in this world of ours. Cause and effect are grim, relentless powers. They rule the world. (A king was shot last night; Last night I held the joker and both bowers.) From out the mesh of fate our heads we thrust. We can't do what we would, but what we must. Heredity has got us in a cinch— (Consoling thought when you've been on a "bust.") Hark to the song where spheral voices blend: "There's no beginning, never will be end." It makes us nutty; hang the astral chimes! The table's spread; come, let us dine, my friend.et us dine, my friend. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Shackelford, Otis M. Genre Poetry Journal or Book Seeking the Best Publisher Franklin Hudson Publishing Year of Publication 1909 Pages 98 Additional information - They would steal old master's horses, Fat and sleek and full of spirit; Steal them while that he was sleeping, Soundly sleeping in his mansion; From the stable would they steal them, Ride them upward through the valley To the place of fun and frolic, Till they reached the very doorway Of the place of fun and frolic. There a score or more of Negroes Would assemble in the night-time, Would assemble for their pleasure, After toiling hard the day long, After toiling hard the week long. Thus they whiled away their sorrow, Thus they made their burdens lighter, Thus they had their recreation, Through a life that was a struggle. road race animal struggle. road race animal +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Unknown Genre Poetry Journal or Book Motor Land Publisher - Year of Publication 1922 Pages 23 Additional information - I am the Spirit of Things that Are, Born of an urgent need, Of the Force that lies In a Man's surmise In a day ere the Age of Speed. metaphor speed I was at hand when the primal herd Toiled o'er the heavy sledge, As they dragged their load To their cave abode By the rippling river's edge. Mine was the thought in that early day, Stirred for the human weal, That inspired the sage In that darkened age With that vision of Life—the Wheel. Then came the horse as the slave of man, Carriage and coach and four, And the years flashed by And the time was nigh, To reveal what the future bore. Then came the quickening urge of Trade, Commerce must travel far, And my wings I gave To this earth-born slave With the joys of the motor car. car metaphor pleasure sublime I am the Spirit of Things that Are, Born of an urgent need, Of the Force that lies In a Man's surmise In a day ere the Age of Speed. metaphor speed Speed. metaphor speed +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Untermeyer, Louis Genre Poetry Journal or Book American Poetry Publisher Hartcourt , Brace and Company Year of Publication 1922 Pages 114 Additional information - What nudity is beautiful as this Obedient monster purring at its toil; These naked iron muscles dripping oil And the sure-fingered rods that never miss. This long and shining flank of metal is Magic that greasy labor cannot spoil; While this vast engine that could rend the soil Conceals its fury with a gentle hiss. zoomorphism engine personification metaphor sound oil It does not vent its loathing, does not turn Upon its makers with destroying hate. It bears a deeper malice; lives to earn Its master's bread and laughs to see this great Lord of the earth, who rules but cannot learn, Become the slave of what his slaves create. metaphysics personification metaphysics personification +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Williams, William Carlos Genre Poetry Journal or Book William Carlos Williams: The Collected Poems Volume I 1909-1939 Publisher MacGowan Year of Publication 1916 Pages 57 Additional information - At ten A.M. the young housewife moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband's house. I pass solitary in my car. car driver Then again she comes to the curb to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands shy, uncorseted, tucking in stray ends of hair, and I compare her to a fallen leaf. road roadside The noiseless wheels of my car rush with a crackling sound over dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling. car car part driver sound speed plantcar car part driver sound speed plant +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Wilson Baker, Karle Genre Poetry Journal or Book Modern Verse: British and American Publisher Henry Holt and Company Year of Publication 1921 Pages 111-113 Additional information - car personification sound We tumbled out into the starry dark Under the cold stars; still the sirens shrieked, As we reached the square, two rockets hissed And flowered: they were the only two in town. Down streamed the people, blowing frosty breath Under the lamps—the mayor and the marshal, The fire department, members of the band, Buttoning their clothes with one hand, while the other Clutched a cold clarionet or piccolo That shivered for its first ecstatic squeal. We had no cannon—we made anvils serve. Just as our fathers did when Sumter fell; And all a little town could do, to show That twenty haughty cities heaped together Could not be half so proud and glad as we, We did. Soon a procession formed itself— Prosperous and poor, young, old, and staid and gay, Every glad soul who'd had the hardihood To jump from a warm bed at four o'clock Into the starry blackness. Round the square— A most unmilitary sight—it pranced, Straggled and shouted, while the street-lamps blinked In sleepy wonder. At the very end Where the procession dwindled to a tail, Shuffled Old Boozer. From a snorting car But just arrived, a leading citizen Sprang to the pavement. “Hallelujah, Boss! “We's whop de Kaiser!” “Well, you old black fraud,” (The judge's smile was hiding in his beard) “What's he to you?” Old Boozer bobbed and blinked Under the lamps; another moment, he Had scrambled to the base about the post, And through the nearer crowd the shout went round, “Listen—Old Boozer's going to preach!” He raised His trancéd eyes. A moment's pause. “O Lawd, You heah dis gemman ax me dat jes' now, 'What's he to Boozer'? Doan he know, O Lawd, Dat Kaiser's boot-heel jes' been tinglin' up To stomp on Boozer? Doan he know de po', De feeble, an' de littlesome toddlin' chile Dat scream to Hebben when he tromp 'em down, Hab drug dat Bad Man right down off his throne To ebberlastin' torment? Glory, Lawd! We done pass through de Red Sea! Glory, Lawd! De Lawd done drug de mighty from his seat! He done exalted dem ob low degree! He sabe de spark from dem dat stomp it out! He sabe de seed from dem dat tromp it down! He sabe de lebben strugglin' in de lump! He sabe de—“ Cheering, laughing, moving on, With cries of “Go it, Boozer!” the crowd swirled About his perch; but, as I passed, I saw A red-haired boy, who stood, and did not move, But gazed and gazed, as if the old man's words Raised visions. In his shivering arms he held A struggling puppy; once I heard him say, “Down, Woodrow!” but he scarcely seemed to know He spoke. The stars paled slowly overhead; The din increased; the crowd surged; but the boy Stood rapt. As I turned back once more, I saw Full morning on his face. And at the end Of our one down-town street, the laughing sun Came shouting up, belated, but most glad. car sound anthropomorphism night +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Wyatt, Edith Genre Poetry Journal or Book New Voices Publisher The Macmillan Company Year of Publication 1915 Pages 343-344 Additional information - In the Santa Clara Valley, far away and far away, Cool-breathed waters dip and dally, linger towards another day— Far and far away—far away. Slow their floating step, but tireless, terraced down the great Plateau. Towards our ways of steam and wireless, silver-paced the brook-beds go. Past the ladder-walled Pueblos, past the orchards, pear and quince, Where the back-locked river’s ebb flows, miles and miles the valley glints, Shining backwards, singing downwards, towards horizons blue and bay. All the roofs the roads ensconce so dream of visions far away— Santa Cruz and Ildefonso, Santa Clara, Santa Fé. Ancient, sacred fears and faiths, ancient, sacred faiths and fears— Some were real, some were wraiths—Indian, Franciscan years, Built the Khivas, swung the bells; while the wind sang plain and free, "Turn your eyes from visioned hells!—look as far as you can see!" In the Santa Clara Valley, far away and far away, Dying dreams divide and dally, crystal-terraced waters sally— Linger towards another day, far and far away—far away. agriculture plant road scenery sublime West As you follow where you find them, up along the high Plateau, In the hollows left behind them Spanish chapels fade below— Shaded court and low corrals. In the vale the goat-herd browses. Hollyhocks are seneschals by the little buff-walled houses. Over grassy swale and alley have you ever seen it so— Up the Santa Clara Valley, riding on the Great Plateau? Past the ladder-walled Pueblos, past the orchards, pear and quince, Where the trenchèd waters’ ebb flows, miles and miles the valley glints, Shining backwards, singing downwards towards horizons blue and bay. All the haunts the bluffs ensconce so breathe of visions far away, As you ride near Ildefonso back again to Santa Fé. Pecos, mellow with the years, tall-walled Taos—who can know Half the storied faiths and fears haunting Green New Mexico? Only from her open places down arroyos blue and bay, One wild grace of many graces dallies towards another day. Where her yellow tufa crumbles, something stars and grasses know, Something true, that crowns and humbles, shimmers from the Great Plateau: Blows where cool-paced waters dally from the stillness of Puyé, Down the Santa Clara Valley through the world from far away— Far and far away—far away. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Young, Clarence Genre Fiction Journal or Book The Motor Boys Across the Plains: OR THE HERMIT OF LOST LAKE Publisher - Year of Publication 1907 Pages 1-248 Additional information https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/43509/pg43509-images.html Preface/Chapter I. - Ramming an Ox Cart (1-10) accident risk animal PREFACE Dear Boys: Here it is at last—the fourth volume of "The Motor Boys Series," for which so many boys all over our land have been asking during the past year. To those who have read the other volumes in this line, this new tale needs no special introduction. To others, I would say that in the first volume, entitled, "The Motor Boys," I introduced three wide-awake American lads, Ned, Bob and Jerry, and told how they first won a bicycle race and then a great motor cycle contest,—the prize in the latter being a big touring car. Having obtained the automobile, the lads went west, and in the second volume, called, "The Motor Boys Overland," were related the particulars of a struggle for a valuable mine, a struggle which tested the boys' bravery to the utmost. While in the west the boys heard of a strange buried city in Mexico, and, in company with a learned college professor, journeyed to that locality. The marvellous adventures met with are told in "The Motor Boys in Mexico." Leaving the buried city, the boys started again for the locality of the mine, and in the present tale are told the particulars of some strange things that happened on the way. A portion of this story is based on facts, related to me while on an automobiling tour in the west, by an old ranchman who had participated in some of the occurrences. With best wishes, and hoping we shall meet again, I leave you to peruse the pages which follow. CLARENCE YOUNG. March 1, 1907. car model nationality West navigation THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS CHAPTER I RAMMING AN OX CART Mingled with the frantic tooting of an automobile horn, there was the shrill shrieking of the brake-band as it gripped the wheel hub in a friction clutch. "Hi, Bob! Look out for that ox cart ahead!" exclaimed one of three sturdy youths in the touring car. "I should say so! Jam on the brakes, Bob!" put in the tallest of the trio, while an elderly man, who was in the rear seat with one of the boys, glanced carelessly up to see what was the trouble. "I have got the brake on, Jerry!" was the answer the lad at the steering wheel made. "Can't you and Ned hear it screeching!" sound car part technology car model passenger driver The auto was speeding down a steep hill, seemingly headed straight toward a solitary Mexican who was moving slowly along in an antiquated ox-drawn vehicle. "Then why don't she slow up? You've got the power off, haven't you?" "Of course! Do you take me for an idiot!" yelled Bob, or, as his friends sometimes called him, because of his fatness, "Chunky." "Of course I've shut down, but something seems to be the matter with the brake pedal." "Have you tried the emergency?" asked Ned. "Sure!" speed topography nationality animal pedestrian accident risk car part Toot! Toot! Toot! Again the horn honked out a warning to the Mexican, but he did not seem to hear. The big red touring car was gathering speed, in spite of the fact that it was not under power, and it bore down ever closer to the ox cart. sound onomatopoeia nationality speed animal pedestrian risk car model "Cut out the muffler and let him hear the explosions," suggested Jerry. Bob did so, and the sounds that resulted were not unlike a Gatling gun battery going into action. This time the native heard. Glancing back, he gave a frightened whoop and jabbed the sharp goad into the ox. The animal turned squarely across the road, thus shutting off what small chance there might have been of the auto gliding past on either side. car part sound metaphor nationality pedestrian animal risk "We're going to hit him sure!" yelled Ned. "I say Professor, you'd better hold on to your specimens. There's going to be all sorts of things doing in about two shakes of a rattlesnake's tail!" "What's that about a rattlesnake?" asked the old man, who, looking up from a box of bugs and stones on his lap, seemed aware, for the first time, of the danger that threatened. "Hi there! Get out of the way! Move the cart! Shake a leg! Pull to one side and let us have half the road!" yelled Jerry as a last desperate resort, standing up and shouting at the bewildered and frightened Mexican. "Oh pshaw! He don't understand United States!" cried Ned. "That's so," admitted Jerry ruefully. "Vamoose, is the proper word for telling a Mexican to get out of the road," suggested the professor calmly. "Perhaps if you shouted that at him he might—" risk animal passenger driver nationality pedestrian What effect trying the right word might have had the boys had no chance of learning, for, the next instant, in spite of Bob's frantic working at the brake, the auto shot right at the ox cart. By the merest good luck, more than anything else, for Bob could steer neither to the right nor left, because the narrow road was hemmed in by high banks, the machine struck the smaller vehicle a glancing blow. car part accident driver speed scenery road condition The force of the impact skidded the auto on two wheels up the side of the embankment, where, poking the front axle into a stump served to bring the car to a stop. The car was slewed around to one side, the ox was yanked from its feet, and, as the cart overturned, the Mexican, yelling voluble Spanish, pitched out into the road. Nor did the boys and the professor come off scathless, for the sudden stopping of their machine piled the occupants on the rear seat up in a heap on the floor of the tonneau, while Bob and Jerry, who were in front, went sprawling into the dust near the native. accident car part animal nationality pedestrian health passenger driver dust For a few seconds there was no sound save the yelling of the Mexican and the bellowing of the ox. Then the cloud of dust slowly drifted away, and Bob picked himself up, gazing ruefully about. "This is a pretty kettle of fish," he remarked. "I should say it was several of 'em," agreed Jerry, trying to get some of the dust from his mouth, ears and nose. "You certainly hit him, Chunky!" "It wasn't my fault! How did I know the brake wasn't going to work just the time it was most needed?" "Is anybody killed?" asked the professor, looking up over the edge of the tonneau, and not releasing his hold of several boxes which contained his specimens. "Don't seem to be, nor any one badly hurt, unless it's the ox or the auto," said Ned, taking a look. "The Mexican seems to be mad about something, though." sound nationality animal dust accident metaphor car part health By this time the native had arisen from his prostrate position and was shaking his fist at the Motor Boys and the professor, meanwhile, it would appear from his language, calling them all the names to which he could lay his tongue. "I guess he wants Bob's scalp," said Jerry with a smile. "It was as much his fault as mine," growled Chunky. "If he had pulled to one side, I could easily have passed." The Mexican, brushing the dust from his clothes, approached the auto party, and continued his rapid talk in Spanish. The boys, who had been long enough in Mexico to pick up considerable of the language, gathered that the native demanded two hundred dollars for the damage to himself, the cart and the ox, as well as for the injury to his dignity and feelings. "You'd better talk to him, Professor," suggested Jerry. "Offer him what you think is right." nationality health animal Thereupon Professor Snodgrass, in mild terms explained how the accident had happened, saying it was no fault of the auto party. The Mexican, in language more forcible than polite, reiterated his demand, and announced that unless the money was instantly forthcoming, he would go to the nearest alcade and lodge a complaint. The travelers knew what this meant, with the endless delays of Mexican justice, the summoning of witnesses and petty officers. "I wish there was some way out," said Jerry. As the Mexican had not been hurt, nor his cart or ox been damaged, there was really no excuse for the boys giving in to his demands. "Let's give him a few dollars and skip out," suggested Ned. "He can't catch us." This was easier said than done, for the auto was jammed up against a tree stump on a bank, and the ox cart, which, the native by this time had righted, blocked the road. law nationality animal health tree accident But, all unexpectedly, there came a diversion that ended matters. Professor Snodgrass, with his usual care for his beloved specimens before himself, was examining the various boxes containing them. He opened one containing his latest acquisition of horned toads, big lizards, rattlesnakes and bats. The reptiles crawled, jumped and flew out, for they were all alive. "Diabalo! Santa Maria! Carramba!" exclaimed the Mexican as he caught sight of the repulsive creatures. "They are crazy Americanos!" he yelled. With a flying leap he jumped into his ox cart, and with goad and voice he urged the animal on to such advantage that, a few minutes later, all that was to be seen of him was a cloud of dust in the distance. "Good riddance," said Bob. "Now to see how much our machine is damaged." Fortunately the auto had struck a rotten stump, and though with considerable force, the impact was not enough to cause any serious damage. Under the direction of Jerry the boys managed to get the machine back into the road, where they let it stand while they went to a near-by spring for a drink of water. maintenance tree accident scenery While they are quenching their thirst an opportunity will be taken to present them to the reader in proper form. The three boys were Bob Baker, son of Andrew Baker, a banker, Ned Slade, the only heir of Aaron Slade, a department store proprietor, and Jerry Hopkins, the son of a widow. All three were about seventeen years of age, and lived in the city of Cresville, not far from Boston, Mass. Their companion was Professor Uriah Snodgrass, a learned man with many letters after his name, signifying the societies and institutions to which he belonged. Those who have read the first book of this series, entitled, "The Motor Boys," need no introduction to the three lads. Sufficient to say that some time before this story opens they had taken part in some exciting bicycle races, the winning of which resulted in the acquiring of Motor cycles for each of them. On these machines they had had much fun and had also many adventures befall them. Taking part in a big race meet, one of them won an event which gave him a chance to get a big touring automobile, the same car in which they were now speeding through Mexico. pleasure risk equipment speed car model Their adventures in the auto are set forth at length in the second volume of the series entitled, "The Motor Boys Overland," which tells of a tour across the country, in which they had to contend with their old enemy, Noddy Nixon, and his gang. Eventually the boys and Jim Nestor, a miner whom they befriended, gained some information of a long lost gold mine in Arizona. They made a dash for this and won it against heavy odds, after a fight with their enemies. The mine turned out well, and the boys and their friends made considerable money. The spirit of adventure would not drown in them. Just before reaching the diggings they made the acquaintance of Professor Snodgrass, who told a wonderful story of a buried city. How the boys found this ancient town of old Mexico, and the many adventures that befell them there, are told in the third book, called "The Motor Boys in Mexico." Therein is related the strange happenings under ground, of the sunken road, the old temples, the rich treasures and the fights with the bandits. Also there is told of the rescue of the Mexican girl Maximina, and how she was taken from a band of criminals and restored to her friends. These happenings brought the boys and the professor to the City of Mexico, where the auto was given a good overhauling, to prepare it for the trip back to the United States. The boys and the professor, the latter bearing with him his beloved specimens, started back for civilization, keeping to the best and most frequented roads, to avoid the brigands, with whom they had had more than one adventure on their first trip. It was while on this homeward journey that the incident of the Mexican and the ox cart befell them. maintenance animal road condition safety nationality Having slaked their thirst the boys and the professor went back to the auto where, gathering up the belongings that had become scattered from the upset, they prepared to resume their journey. "Get in; I'll run her for a while," said Jerry. "One minute! Stand still! Don't move if you value my happiness!" exclaimed the professor suddenly, dropping down on his hands and knees, and creeping forward through the long grass. equipment driver Chapter II. - A Nest of Serpents (11-19) risk animal equipment CHAPTER II A NEST OF SERPENTS "What is it; a rattlesnake?" asked Bob, in a hoarse whisper. "Or a Gila monster?" inquired Ned. "Quiet! No noise!" cautioned the professor. "I see a specimen worth ten dollars at the lowest calculation. I'll have him in a minute." "Is it a bug?" asked Chunky. "There! I have him!" yelled the scientist, making a sudden dive forward, sliding on his face, and clutching his hand deep into the grass. As it happened there was a little puddle of water at that point, and the professor, in the excess of his zeal, pitched right into it. "Oh! Oh my! Oh dear! Phew! Wow! Help! Save me!" he exclaimed a moment later, as he tried to get out of the slough. The boys hurried to his aid, but the mud was soft and the professor had gone head first into the ooze, which held fast to him as though it was quicksand. "Get him by the heels and yank him out or he'll smother!" cried Jerry. The other boys followed his advice, and, in a little while the bug-collector was pulled from his uncomfortable and dangerous position. As he rolled about in the grass to get rid of some of the mud, he kept his right hand tightly closed. "What's the matter, are your fingers hurt?" asked Bob. "No sir, my fingers are not hurt!" snapped the professor, with the faintest tinge of impatience, which might be excused on the part of a man who has just dived into a mud hole. "My fingers are not hurt in the least. What I have here is one of the rarest specimens of the Mexican mosquito I have ever seen. I would go ten miles to get one." "I guess you're welcome to 'em," commented Jerry. "We don't want any." "That's because you don't understand the value of this specimen," replied the professor. "This mosquito will add to my fame, and I shall devote one whole chapter of my four books to it. This indeed has been a lucky day for me." "And unlucky for the rest of us," said Bob, as he thought of the spill. It was found that a few minor repairs had to be made to the auto, and when these were completed it was nearly noon. "I vote we have dinner before we start again," spoke Bob. "There goes Chunky!" exclaimed Ned. "Never saw him when he wasn't thinking of something to eat!" "Well, I guess if the truth was known you are just as hungry as I am," expostulated Chunky. "This Mexican air gives me a good appetite." Bob's plan was voted a good one, so, with supplies and materials carried in the auto for camping purposes, a fire was soon built, and hot chocolate was being made. maintenance pleasure equipment "I'm sick of canned stuff and those endless eggs, frijoles and tortillas," complained Bob. "I'd like a good beefsteak and some fish and bread and butter." "I don't know about the other things, but I think we could get some fish over in that little brook," said the professor, pointing to a stream that wound about the base of a near-by hill. A minute later the boys had their hooks and lines out. Poles were cut from trees, and, with some pieces of canned meat for bait they went fishing. They caught several large white fish, which the professor named in long Latin terms, and which, he said, were good to eat. In a little while a savory smell filled the air, for Ned, who volunteered to act as cook, had put the fish on to broil with some strips of bacon, and soon there was a dinner fit for any king that ever wielded a scepter. Sipping their chocolate, the boys and the professor watched the sun slowly cross the zenith as they reclined in the shade of the big trees on either side of the road. Then each one half fell asleep in the lazy atmosphere. Jerry was the first to rouse up. He looked and saw it would soon be dusk, and then he awakened the others. "We'll have to travel, unless we want to sleep out in the open," he said. Thereupon they made preparations to leave, the professor gathering up his specimens, including the Mexican mosquito that had caused him such labor. "I think we'll head straight for the Rio Grande," said Jerry. "Once we get into Texas I expect we'll have some news from Nestor, as I wrote him to let us know how the mine was getting on, and, also, to inform us if he needed any help." "I'll be glad to see old Jim again," said Bob. "So will I," chimed in Ned. The auto was soon chug-chugging over the road, headed toward the States, and the occupants were engaged with their thoughts. It was rapidly growing dusk, and the chief anxiety was to reach some town or village where they could spend the night. For, though they were used to staying in the open, they did not care to, now that the rainy season was coming on, when fevers were prevalent. The sun sank slowly to rest behind the big wooded hills as the auto glided along, and, almost before the boys realized it, darkness was upon them. passenger driver navigation "Better light the lamps," suggested Ned. "No telling what we'll run into on this road. No use colliding with more ox carts, if we can help it." "I'll light up," volunteered Bob. "It will give me a chance to stretch my legs. I'm all cramped up from sitting still so long." Jerry brought the big machine to a stop while Bob alighted and proceeded to illuminate the big search lamp and the smaller ones that burned oil. He had just started the acetylene gas aglow when, glancing forward he gave a cry of alarm. parking car part oil "What is it?" cried Jerry, seeing that something was wrong. "Is it a mountain lion?" "It's worse!" cried Bob in a frightened voice. "What?" "A regular den of snakes! The horrible things are stretched right across the road, and we can't get past. Ugh! There are some whoppers!" Bob, who hated, above all creatures a snake, made a jump into the auto. "There's about a thousand of 'em!" he cried with a shudder. "Great!" exclaimed the professor. "I will have a chance to select some fine specimens. This is a rare fortune!" "Don't go out there!" gasped Bob. "You'll be bitten to death!" Just then there sounded on the stillness of the night a strange, whirring buzz. At the sound of it the professor started. "Rattlers!" he whispered. "I guess none of us will get out. Probably moccasins, cotton-mouths and vipers! There must be thousands of them!" animal risk night sound As he spoke he looked over the side of the car, and the exclamation he gave caused the boys to glance toward the ground. There they beheld a sight that filled them with terror. As the professor had said, the ground was literally covered with the snakes. The reptiles seemed to be moving in a vast body to some new location. There were big snakes and little ones, round fat ones, and long thin ones, and of many hues. sound risk animal "Let's get out of this!" exclaimed Ned. "Start the machine, Jerry!" "No! Don't!" called the professor. "You may kill a few, but the revolving wheels of the auto will fling some live ones up among us, and I have no desire to be bitten by any of these reptiles. They are too deadly. So keep the car still until they have passed. They are probably getting ready to go into winter quarters, or whatever corresponds to that in Mexico." "It will be lucky if they don't take a notion to climb up and investigate the machine and us," put in Jerry. "I have—" risk animal car part health He gave a sudden start, for, at that instant one of the ugly reptiles, which had twined itself around the wheel spokes, reared its ugly head up, over the side of the front seat, and hissed, right in Jerry's face. "Here's one now!" the boy exclaimed as he made a motion to brush the snake aside. "Don't touch it as you value your life!" yelled the professor. "It's a diamond-backed rattler, and one of the most deadly!" "Here is another coming up on my side," called Bob. "Yes, and there are some coming up here!" shouted Ned. "They'll overwhelm us if we don't look out!" risk animal health For a time it seemed a serious matter. The snakes began twining up the sides of the car, and, though most of them dropped back to the ground again, a few maintained their position, and seemed to exhibit anger at the sight of the boys and the professor. "What shall we do?" asked Bob. "We can't run ahead, or go backward, and, if we stay here we're likely to be killed by the snakes." Jerry, who was feeling around in the bottom of the car for his rifle, gave a cry as his hand came in contact with something. animal risk weapon equipment "Get bitten?" asked the professor in alarm. "No, but I found this lariat," said Jerry in excited tones. "Are you going to lasso the snakes?" asked Ned, wondering if Jerry had gone crazy. "No, but you see this lariat is made of horse hair, and I think I can keep the snakes away with it." "How; by shaking it at 'em?" "No. I read in some book that snakes hated horse hair, and would never cross even a small ring of it." "Well?" "Well, if I run this lariat all around the auto the snakes will not cross it to come to us. Then we can stay here until they all disappear." "Good!" exclaimed Ned. "That's the ticket!" The reptiles that had climbed up the wheels had gone from sight. With the help of Ned and Bob, Jerry began to spread the horse-hair lariat in a circle about the car. risk equipment animal skill Chapter III. - The Deserted Cabin (20-29) animal skill night rural CHAPTER III THE DESERTED CABIN In a few minutes the hair rope was all about the auto, spread out on the ground in an irregular circle. As the boys dropped it over the sides of the car the lariat struck several of the big snakes, and the reptiles shrunk away as though scorched by fire. "They're afraid of it all right!" exclaimed Ned. "I guess it will do the business." equipment animal risk Sure enough, there seemed to be a desire on the part of the snakes to clear out of the vicinity of the hair rope. They glided off by scores, and soon there was a clear space all about the car, where, before, there had been hundreds of the crawling things. "Shake the lasso," suggested Bob, "and maybe it will scare them farther off." "Yes and we might try shooting a few now they are at a safe distance," put in Ned. "It's too bad I can't get some specimens," lamented the professor, "but I suppose you had better try to get rid of them." So Jerry, who had retained one end of the long lasso vibrated it rapidly, and, as it wiggled in sinuous folds toward the reptiles they made haste to get out of the way. Then Bob and Ned opened fire, killing several. In a little while there were no snakes to be seen. animal equipment weapon "I guess we can go ahead now," said Jerry. "Who'll crank up the car? Don't all speak at once." "My arm is a bit sore," spoke Ned, rubbing his elbow. "Then you do it, Chunky," asked the steersman. "I think I have a stone in my foot," said Bob, making a wry face. "Ha! Ha!" laughed Jerry. "Why don't you two own up and say you're afraid there's a stray rattler or two under the machine, and you think it may bite you?" The two boys grinned sheepishly, and both made a motion to get out. car part pleasure risk driver passenger "Stay where you are," called the professor preparing to leave from the side door of the tonneau. "I'm used to snakes. I don't believe there are any left, but if there are I want them for specimens. I'll crank the car." So he got out and peered anxiously under the body, while the boys waited in anxiety. "No," called the scientist, in discouraged tones, "there are none left." He crawled out, covered with dust, which fact he did not seem to mind, and then turned the crank that sent the fly wheel over. Jerry turned on the gasolene and threw in the spark, and, the next instant the familiar chug-chug of the engine told that the auto was ready to bear the boys and Professor Snodgrass on their way. animal car part passenger dust gasoline driver skill sound They were headed on as straight a road as they could find to the Rio Grande, but, because of the conditions of the thoroughfares it would be several days before they could cross the big river and get into Texas. Their main concern now was to reach some place where there was shelter for the night. "Keep your eyes peeled for villages," called Ned. "We don't want to pass any. I think a good bed would go fine now." "A supper would go better," put in Bob. "Oh, of course! It wouldn't be Chunky if he didn't say something about eating," remarked Jerry with a laugh. "But there seems to be something ahead. It's a house at all events, and probably is the mark of the outskirts of the village." navigation river pleasure rural On the left side of the road, about a hundred yards ahead they saw an adobe, or mud hut. They could see no signs of life about in the half-darkness, illuminated as it was by the powerful search light, but this gave them no concern, as they knew the native Mexicans retired early. When they came opposite the hut Jerry brought the machine to a stop, and he and the other boys jumped out. The professor, who, as usual was arranging some specimens in one of the many small boxes he carried, remained in the car. rural night car part nationality parking passenger animal "Hello!" shouted Bob. "Is any one home? Show a light. Can we get a supper here?" "Why don't you ask for a bed too?" inquired Ned. "Supper first," replied Chunky, rubbing his stomach with a reflective air. No replies came to the hail of the boys, and, in some wonder they approached nearer to the hut. Then they saw that the door was ajar, and that the cabin bore every appearance of being deserted. "Nobody home, I guess," said Jerry. "No, and there hasn't been for some time," added Ned. "Maybe there's a place to build a fire where we can cook a good meal," put in Bob, whereat his companions laughed. They went into the hut, and found, that, while it was in good condition, and furnished as well as the average native Mexican's abode, there was no sign of life. "Might as well make ourselves to home," said Ned. "Come on in, professor," he called. "We'll stay here all night. No use traveling further when there is such a good shelter right at hand." It was now quite dark, and the boys brought in the two oil lamps from the auto, as well as a lantern, to illuminate the place. As they did so they disturbed a colony of bats which flew out with a great flutter of wings. rural car part oil equipment night animal "There's a charcoal stove, and plenty of fuel," said Bob, as he looked at the hearth. "Now we can cook something." "Well, seeing you are so fond of eating, we'll let you get the meal," said Jerry, and it was voted that Chunky should perform this office. Meanwhile the others brought in blankets to make beds on the frame work of cane that formed the sleeping quarters of whoever had last lived in the hut. "Rather queer sort of a shack," remarked Jerry, as he sat down in a corner on a pile of rugs. "Seems to have been left suddenly. They didn't even stop to take the dishes, and here is the remains of a meal," and he pointed to some dried frijoles in one corner of the main room or kitchen. "Perhaps the people who lived here were frightened away," came from Ned. "Well I'm tired enough not to let anything short of a regiment of soldiers in action scare me awake to-night," said Jerry. Under Bob's direction supper was soon ready, and the travelers sat down to a good, if rather limited meal as far as variety went. There were no dishes to be washed, for they ate off wooden plates, of which they had a quantity and which they threw away after each meal. Then, after a good fire had been built on the hearth—for the night was likely to be chilly—the boys and the professor wrapped themselves up in their blankets and soon fell asleep. Jerry must have been slumbering for several hours when he suddenly awakened as he heard a loud noise. "Who's there?" he called involuntarily, sitting up. It was so dark that at first he could distinguish nothing, but, as his eyes became used to the blackness he managed to make out, by the glow of the fire, a shadowy figure gliding toward the door. "Who's there?" called the boy sharply, feeling under the rolled up blanket that served for a pillow, for his revolver. "Stop or I'll fire!" The shadowy figure halted. Then Jerry saw it drop down on all fours and begin to creep toward him. Though he was not a coward the boy felt his heart beating strangely, and he had a queer, creepy sensation down his spine. "What's the matter?" asked Ned, who was awakened by Jerry's voice. "Get your revolver, quick!" called Jerry. "There is some one in the hut besides ourselves! Look over by the fire!" "I see it! Shall I shoot?" asked Ned. There came a sudden crash, followed by a wild yell. "Help! Help! I'm killed! They are murdering me!" shouted Bob's voice. "They are choking me to death!" Bang! went Ned's gun. Fortunately it was aimed at the ceiling, or some one might have been hurt. "What's the trouble?" inquired the professor, who only just then awoke. "Robbers!" yelled Bob. "Brigands!" exclaimed Ned. "Some one is in the cabin!" cried Jerry. By this time he had managed to creep over toward the fire, on which he threw some light wood. The glowing embers caught it, and as the blaze flared up it revealed a big monkey tangled up amid the folds of Bob's blanket, while Chunky was buried somewhere beneath the pile. The beast was struggling wildly to escape, but Bob, in his terror, had grabbed it by a leg. "Stop your noise!" commanded Jerry. "You're not hurt, Chunky!" "Are you sure they haven't killed me?" asked Bob, releasing his hold on the beast, which, with a wild chatter of fear, fled from the hut. "You ought to be able to give the best evidence on that score," said Jerry, as he lighted one of the lamps. "The fellow tried to choke me," sputtered Bob. "I guess the poor beast was as badly scared as you were," remarked the professor. "It was probably attracted in here by the light and warmth. Well, we seem bound to run up against excitement, night as well as day." "The monkey must have knocked something over," said Jerry. "I was awakened by the sound of something falling." They looked and saw that the beast had tried to eat the remains of the supper, and had upset a big pot. "I was sure it was a man, at first," explained Jerry, "and when I saw it go down and start over toward me I was afraid it was some of those Mexican brigands that traveled with Vasco Bilette and Noddy Nixon, when those rascals were on our trail." It was some time before the excitement caused by the monkey's visit died down sufficiently to allow the travelers to go to sleep again. It was morning when they awoke, and prepared to get breakfast. "We need some water to make coffee," said Jerry, who had agreed to get the morning meal. "As chief cook and bottle washer I delegate Bob to find some. Take the pail in the auto." Bob started for the receptacle, and, as he reached the door of the hut he gave a cry. "What's the matter?" called Jerry and Ned. "There's a man out here," replied Bob. "Well, he won't bite you," said Jerry. "Who is he?" "Pardon, senors," called a voice, and then, into the hut staggered a Mexican, who bore evidences of having passed through a hard fight. His face was cut and bruised, one arm hung limply at his side, and his clothing was torn. "What's the matter?" cried Jerry. Before the stranger could reply he had fallen forward in a faint. "Bring some water! Quick!" called Ned. "Let me see to him! I have a little liquor here!" exclaimed the professor, kneeling down beside the prostrate form. Chapter IV. - News from the Mine (30-38) river night nationality navigation CHAPTER IV NEWS FROM THE MINE By the use of the strong stimulant the Mexican was revived. His eyes opened, and he sat up, muttering something in Spanish which the boys could not catch. The professor, however, made reply, and, at the words the stranger seemed to brighten up. He drank some water, and then, at the suggestion of Mr. Snodgrass the boys brought him some food, which the native ate as if he had fasted for a week. His hunger satisfied, he began to talk rapidly to the professor, who listened attentively. "What's the trouble?" asked Jerry at length. "It seems that the poor man lives in this hut," explained the scientist. "Night before last some robbers came in, took nearly everything he had and beat him. Then, driving him into the forest they left him. Only just now did he dare to venture back, fearing to find his enemies in possession of his home. He is weak from lack of food and from the treatment he received." The boys felt sorry for the Mexican, and, at Jerry's suggestion they gave him a sum of money, which, while it was small enough to the travelers, meant a great deal to the native. He poured forth voluble thanks. As the boys and the professor were anxious to get under way, a start was made as soon as it was found that the native was not badly hurt, and that he was able to summon help from friends in a near-by village if necessary. With final leave-takings the travelers started off. For several days and nights they journeyed north, toward the Rio Grande, which river separated them from the United States. Once they crossed that they would be in Texas. "And we can't get there any too soon," remarked Bob, one morning after a sleepless night, passed in the open, during which innumerable fleas attacked the travelers. It was toward dusk, one evening, about a week after having left the City of Mexico that the boys and the professor found themselves on a road, which, upon inquiry led to a small Mexican town, on the bank of the Rio Grande, nearly opposite Eagle Pass, Texas. health nationality navigation river animal night rural "Shall we cross over to-night or wait until morning?" asked the professor of the boys. "Probably it would be better to wait until daylight. I could probably gather a few more specimens then." This was something of which the scientist, who rejoiced in such letters as A.M.; Ph.D.; M.D.; F. R. G. S.; A. G. S., etc., after his name, all indicating some college honor conferred upon him, never seemed to tire. He was making a collection for his own college, as well as gathering data for four large books, which, some day, he intended to issue. "I'd rather get over on our land if we can," said Ned, and he seemed to voice the sentiments of the others. So it was decided, somewhat against the professor's wish, to run the automobile on the big flat-bottomed scow, which served as a ferry, and proceed across the stream. Quite a crowd of villagers came out to see the auto as it chug-chugged up to the ferry landing, and not a few of the children and dogs were in danger of being run over until Ned, who was steering, cut out the muffler, and the explosions of the gasolene, unconfined by any pipes, made so much noise that all except the grown men were frightened away. river rural animal risk car part gasoline sound There was no one at the ferry house, and after diligent inquiries it was learned that the captain and crew of the boat had gone off to a dance about five miles away. "I guess we'll have to stay on this side after all," remarked the professor. "I think—" What he thought he did not say, for just then he happened to catch sight of something on the shoulder of one of the Mexicans, who had gathered in a fringe about the machine. "Stand still, my dear man!" called the professor, as with cat-like tread he crept toward the native. "Diabalo! Santa Maria! Carramba!" muttered the man, thinking, evidently, that the old scientist was out of his wits. "Don't move! Please don't move!" pleaded Mr. Snodgrass, forgetting in his excitement that his hearer could not understand his language. "There is a beautiful specimen of a Mexican katy-did on your coat. If I get it I will have a specimen worth at least thirty dollars!" He made a sudden motion. The Mexican mistook the import of it, and, seemingly thinking he was about to be assaulted, raised his hand in self defense, and aimed a blow at the professor. It was only a glancing one, but it knocked the scientist down, and he fell into the road. "There, the katy-did got away after all," Mr. Snodgrass exclaimed, not seeming to mind his personal mishap in the least. This time the professor spoke in Spanish. The Mexican understood, and was profuse in his apologies. He conversed rapidly with his companions, and, all at once there was a wild scramble after katy-dids. So successful was the hunt that the professor was fairly burdened with the insects. He took as many as he needed, and thanked his newly found friends for their efforts. Matters quieted down after a bit. Darkness fell rapidly and, the Mexican on whom the professor had seen the katy-did invited the travelers to dine with him. He proved to be one of the principal men of the village, and his house, though not large, was well fitted up. The boys and the professor enjoyed the best meal they had eaten since leaving the City of Mexico. "Do me the honor to spend the night here," said the Mexican, after the meal. "Thank you, if it will not disturb your household arrangements, we will," replied the professor. "We must make an early start, however, and cross the river the first thing in the morning." "It will be impossible," replied Senor Gerardo, their host. "Why so?" "Because to-morrow starts the Feast of San Juarez, which lasts for three days, and not a soul in town, including the ferry-master, will work in that time." "What are we to do?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "If you do not cross to-night you will not be able to make the passage until the end of the week," was the answer. "Then let's start to-night," spoke Jerry. "We went over the Rio Grande after dark once before." "Yes, and a pretty mess we made of it," said Ned, referring to the collision they had with the house-boat, as told of in "The Motor Boys in Mexico." "But I thought they said the ferry-master was away to a dance," put in Bob. "He is, Senor," replied their host, who managed to understand the boy's poor Spanish. "However, if he knew the Americanos wanted him, and would go for him in their big marvelous—fire-spitting wagon, and—er—that is if they offered him a small sum, he might be prevailed upon to leave the dance." "Let's try it, at all events," suggested Jerry. "I'm anxious to get over the line and into the United States. A stay of several days may mean one of a week. When these Mexicans get feasting they don't know when to stop." He spoke in English, so as not to offend their kind friend. It was arranged that Jerry and Senor Gerardo should go in the auto for the ferry-master, and summon him to the river with his men, who could come on their fast ponies. This was done, and, though the master of the boat demurred at leaving the pleasures of the dance, he consented when Jerry casually showed a gold-piece. He and his men were soon mounted and galloped along, Jerry running the auto slowly to keep pace with them. The five miles were quickly covered and, while half the population of the village came out to see the strange machine ferried over, the boys and the professor bade farewell to the country where they had gone through so many strange adventures. river animal slowness rural It was nearly ten o'clock when the big flat-bottomed boat grounded on the opposite shore of the Rio Grande. "Hurrah for the United States!" exclaimed Bob. "Now I can get a decent meal without having to swallow red peppers, onions and chocolate!" "There goes Chunky again," laughingly complained Ned. "No sooner does he land than he wants to feed his stomach. I believe if he had been with Christopher Columbus the first thing he would have inquired about on landing at San Salvador would be what the Indians had good to eat." "Oh you're as bad as I am, every bit!" said Bob. A Eagle's Pass, where the travelers landed, was a typical Texas town, with what passed for a hotel, a store and a few houses where the small population lived. It was on the edge of the border prairies and the outlying districts were occupied by cattle ranches. Nearly all, if not quite all, of the male population came down to the dock to see the unusual sight of a big touring automobile on the ferry boat. Many were the comments made by the ranchmen and herders. After much pulling and hauling the car was rolled from the big scow, and the travelers, glad to feel that they were once more in their own country, began to think of a place to spend the night. nationality rural plains animal pedestrian South "Where is the nearest hotel?" asked Jerry of a man in the crowd. "Ain't but one, stranger, an' it's right in front of you," was the reply, as the cowboy pointed to a small, one story building across the street from the river front. "Is Professor Driedgrass in that bunch?" asked a voice as the travelers were contemplating the hostelry. "If he is I have a letter for him." "I am Professor Snodgrass," replied the scientist, looking toward the man who had last spoken. "Beg your pardon, Professor Snodgrass. I kinder got my brands mixed," the stranger went on. "Anyhow I'm th' postmaster here, an' I've been holdin' a letter for ye most a week. It says it's to be delivered to a man with three boys an' a choo-choo wagon, an' that description fits you." "Where's it from?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "Come in a letter to me, from a feller named Nestor, up at a place in the mining section," was the reply. "Th' letter to me said you might likely pass this way on your journey back." Chapter V. - Trouble Ahead (39-45) CHAPTER V TROUBLE AHEAD "I remember now, I did write to Nestor, telling him we were about to start back, and would probably cross the river at this place," spoke the professor. "I had forgotten all about it." "Well, here's your letter," said the postmaster. "Now allow me to welcome you to our city, which I do in the name of the Mayor—which individual you see in me—and the Common Council, which consists of Pete Blaston, only he ain't here, in consequent of bein' locked up for disturbin' th' peace an' quiet of the community by shootin' a Greaser." "Glad to meet you, I am sure," replied the scientist politely, as he received the letter from the dual official. river "What is the news from Nestor?" asked Jerry anxiously. "Is the mine all right?" "I'll tell you right away," replied Mr. Snodgrass, as, by the light of the gas lantern on the auto he read the letter. As he glanced rapidly over the pages his face took on an anxious look. "Is there anything wrong?" asked Ned. "There is indeed," replied the professor gravely. "The letter was written over a week ago, and, among other things Nestor says there is likely to be trouble over the mine." "What kind? Is Noddy Nixon trying to get it away from us again?" asked Jerry. "No," replied Mr. Snodgrass. "It appears our title is not as good as it might be. There is one of the former owners of the land where the mine is located who did not sign the deed. He was missing when the transfer was made, but Nestor did not know this, so there is a cloud on our title." car part visibility "But I thought we claimed the land from the government, and were the original owners," put in Ned. "It seems that a company of men owned the mine before we did, but they sold out to Nestor and some of his friends. They all signed the deed but this one man, and now some one has learned of this, and seeks to take the mine, on the theory that they have as good a claim to the holding as we have." "I should say that was trouble," sighed Bob. "To think of losing what we worked so hard to get!" "Well, there's no use crossing a bridge until you come to it," Professor Snodgrass went on. "Nestor and his friends are in possession yet, and that, you know, is nine of the ten points of the law." "Then if we can't do anything right away I move we have something to eat," suggested Bob. "It's a good suggestion," agreed the scientist. They had drawn a little to one side from the crowd of townspeople while talking about the letter from Nestor, but, having decided there was nothing to be done at present, they moved toward the hotel. "I reckon I've got some more mail for your outfit, Professor Hayseed—er I beg yer pardon—Snodgrass," said the postmaster-mayor. "There's letters fer chaps named Baker, Slade and Hopkins. Nestor sent 'em along with that other," and the dual official handed over three envelopes. "They're from home!" cried the boys in a chorus. And in the glare of oil lamps on the porch of the hotel they read the communications. The missives contained nothing but good news, to the effect that all the loved ones were well. Each one inquired anxiously how much longer the travelers expected to stay away, and urged them to come home as soon as they could. "Now for that supper!" exclaimed Bob, as he put his letter away. If the meal was a rough one, prepared as it was by the Chinese cook, it was good, and the travelers enjoyed it thoroughly. As they rose from the table a cowboy entered the dining room and drawled out: "I say strangers, be you th' owners of that there rip-snortin' specimen of th' lower regions that runs on four wheels tied 'round with big sassages?" "Do you mean the automobile?" asked Jerry. "I reckon I do, if that's what ye call it." "Yes, it's our machine," replied Jerry. "Then if ye have any great love for th' workin' of it in the future, an' any regard or consideration for it's feelin' ye ought t' see to it." "Why so?" "Nothin'," drawled the cowboy as he carefully pared his nails with a big bowie knife; "nothin' only Bronco Pete is amusin' his self by tryin' t' see how near he can come to stickin' his scalpin' steel inter th' tires!" "Great Scott! We must stop that!" exclaimed Jerry, running from the hotel toward where the auto had been left in the street. The other boys and the professor followed. pleasure cowboy nationality metaphor safety weapon car part They found the machine surrounded by quite a crowd that seemed to be much amused at something which was taking place in its midst. Making their way to the inner circle of spectators the boys beheld an odd sight. A big cowboy, who, from appearances had indulged too freely in something stronger than water, was unsteadily trying to stick his big knife into the rubber tires. "Here! You mustn't do that," cried Jerry, sharply, laying his hand on the man's shoulder. "Look out for him! He's dangerous!" warned some of the bystanders. "I can't help it if he is," replied Jerry. "We can't let him ruin the tires." "This is the time I do it!" cried Bronco Pete, as he made a lunge for the front wheel. Jerry sprang forward and the crowd held its breath, for it seemed as if the boy was right in the path of the knife. pedestrian pleasure cowboy weapon risk car part But Jerry knew what he was about. With a quick motion he kicked the cowboy lightly on the wrist, the blow knocking the knife from his hand, and sending it some distance away. "Look out now, sonny!" called a man to Jerry. "No one ever hit Pete an' lived after it." It seemed that Jerry was in a dangerous position. Pete, enraged at being foiled of his purpose, uttered a beast-like roar, and reached back to where his revolver rested at his hip in a belt. Jerry never moved an inch, but looked the man straight in the eye. "Here! None of that Pete!" called a voice suddenly, and a big man pushed his way through the crowd, and grabbed the cowboy's arm before he had time to draw his gun. "If you don't want to get into trouble move on!" "All right, Marshall; all right," replied Pete, the desire of shooting seeming to die out as he looked at the newcomer. "I were only havin' a little fun with th' tenderfoot." "You didn't appear to scare him much," remarked the town marshall, who had seen the whole thing. "You had your nerve with you all right, son," he added, to Jerry. "That's what he had," commented Pete. "There ain't many men would have done what he did, an' I admire him for it. Put it there, stranger," and Pete, all the anger gone from him, extended a big hand, which Jerry grasped heartily. "Three cheers for the 'tenderfoot,'" called some one, and they were given with a will for Jerry, as Pete, under the guidance of the marshall, moved unsteadily away. "I wouldn't have been in your boots one spell there, for a good bit," observed the postmaster as he came up. "Pete's about as bad as they come." "I didn't stop to think of the danger, or maybe I wouldn't have done as I did," said Jerry. "All I thought of was that he would spoil the tire, and it would take a long while to fix it." "Yes, and we don't want to delay any longer than we can help," spoke Ned in a low voice. "I'm anxious to get back to the mine and see what we can do to perfect our title." pleasure pedestrian risk car part Chapter VI. - On a Strange Road (46-54) storm animal rain risk forest CHAPTER VI ON A STRANGE ROAD For several days they made good progress, for the roads were in fair condition. The machine was kept headed as nearly as possible toward Arizona, though they often had to go some distance out of their way to get rid of bad places, or find a ford or bridge to cross a stream. road condition navigation bridge "We'll soon be out of Texas," remarked Bob one afternoon, when they had passed through a small ranch town where they had dinner. "And I think we're going to get a wetting before we leave the big state," put in Ned. "I think you're right," agreed the professor, as he turned and looked at a bank of ugly dark clouds in the southwest. "A thunder shower is coming up, if I'm any judge. There doesn't seem to be any shelter, either." South As far as they could see there was nothing but a vast stretch of wild country, though, far to the north, there was a dark patch which looked as if it was a forest. "It's coming just at the wrong time," remarked Jerry, who was steering. "I was in hopes the storm would hold off a bit. Well, we shan't melt if it does rain." And that it was soon going to pour in the proverbial buckets full was evident. The wind began to blow a half gale, and the clouds, from which angry streaks of jagged lightning leaped, scurried forward. At the same time low mutterings of thunder were heard. "We're in for it," cried Bob. scenery North driver wind lightning thunder storm The next instant the storm broke, and the whole landscape was blotted out in a veil of mist and rain which came down in sheets of water. Now and then the darkness would be illuminated by a vivid flash of fire from the sky artillery, and the thunder seemed to shake the earth. Jerry could barely see where to steer, so fiercely did the rain beat down. Fortunately they had time to put on their raincoats before the deluge hit them. The provisions and other things in the auto had, likewise, been covered up with canvas, so little damage would result from the downpour. storm rain visibility lightning thunder driver equipment safety "Look out!" yelled Ned suddenly to Jerry. "There's something ahead of us!" Jerry partially shut off the power, and, as the machine slowed down, he and the others peered forward to see what the object was. "It's some sort of an animal!" cried Bob, who had sharp eyes. "It's running along on four legs, right in front of the car!" "It's a bear, that's what it is!" shouted Ned. "A big black bear!" "Let me get it for a specimen!" exclaimed the professor, in his enthusiasm, not considering the size of the animal, nor the difficulties in the way of capturing it. "Let me get out! It's worth forty dollars if it's worth a cent!" passenger driver braking slowness visibility animal storm At the sound of the excited voices, which the animal must have heard above the roar of the storm, the bear turned suddenly and faced the occupants of the car. So quickly was it done that Jerry had barely time to jam on the brakes in order to avoid a collision. "Why didn't you run him down, and we could have some bear steaks for supper?" asked Bob. "Because I don't think it's just healthy to run into a three hundred and fifty pound bear with a big auto," replied Jerry. "We might kill the bear, but we'd be sure to damage the car." storm animal sound risk car part parking passenger The beast did not appear to be frightened at the sight of his natural enemies. Raising on its haunches the animal slowly ambled toward the stalled machine, growling in a menacing manner. "I believe he's going to attack us!" exclaimed the professor. "Let me get out my rifle!" But this was easier said than done. The weapons and ammunition were all under the canvas, and it would require several minutes to get at them. In the meanwhile the bear, showing every indication of rage was trying to climb up on the engine hood, despite the throbbing of the engine, which was going, though the gears were not thrown in. animal risk weapon equipment "Start the car and run over him!" exclaimed Bob. "Back up and get out of his way!" was Ned's advice to Jerry. "I've got to do something," muttered the steersman. Matters were getting critical. The storm was increasing in violence, with the wind lashing the rain into the faces of the travelers. The growls of the angry beast mingled with the rumble and rattle of thunder, and the machine was shaking under the efforts Bruin made to climb over the hood and into the front seat. passenger driver risk animal storm wind rain thunder sound "Hold on tight! I'm going to start!" yelled Jerry suddenly. He threw in the intermediate gear and opened wide the gasolene throttle. The car sprang forward like a thing alive. But the bear had too good a hold with his long sharp claws sticking in the ventilator holes of the hood, to be shaken off. "I should think he'd burn on the water radiator," said Ned. "His fur's too thick I guess," was Bob's reply. On went the auto, the boys and the professor clinging to it for dear life, while Bruin hung on, half crazed with fear and anger. risk car part skill driver gasoline animal speed "How you going to get rid of him?" shouted Ned above the roar of the storm. "I'll show you," replied Jerry grimly. Some distance ahead the steersman had seen a sharp curve in the road. It was dimly discernible through the mist of water. "Hold tight everybody!" shouted Jerry a second or two before the turn was reached. Then, suddenly swinging around it, at as sharp an angle as he dared to make and not overturn the car, Jerry sent the auto skidding. The next instant, unable to stand the impetus of the turn, the bear lost its hold on the hood, and was flung, like a stone from a catapult, far off to the left, rolling over and over on the muddy ground. passenger sound storm visibility rain skill animal car part "There, I guess it will be quite a while before he tries to eat up another live automobile," remarked Jerry as he slowed up a bit. Off in the distance they heard a sort of reproachful whine, as if Bruin objected to such treatment. Then the rain came down harder than ever, and all sight of the bear was lost. "Let's get out of this!" exclaimed Ned, as he felt a small stream of water trickling down his back. "Can't we strike for those woods we saw a while ago?" "I'm headed for them," spoke Jerry. "I just want to get my bearings. Guess we'd better light up, as it will soon be dusk." skill slowness sound animal rain storm forest After some difficulty in getting matches to burn in the wind and rain, the big search lights and the oil lanterns were lighted, and then, with four shafts of light cutting the misty darkness ahead of them the travelers proceeded. The roads seemed to be getting worse, but there was nothing to do except to keep on. Every now and then the machine would lurch into some hollow with force enough to almost break the springs. wind rain storm car part visibility oil road condition navigation risk "Hello!" cried Jerry suddenly. "Here are two roads. Which shall we take?" "The right seems to go a little more directly north," said the professor, peering forward. "Suppose we take that?" "Especially as it seems to be the better road," added Jerry. He turned the machine into it, and, to the surprise of all they felt the thoroughfare become hard and firm as the auto tires rolled over it. It was almost as smooth as asphalt, and the travelers were congratulating themselves on having made a wise choice. navigation road condition North car part asphalt All at once the rain, which had been coming down in torrents, seemed to let up. "I believe it's clearing up," said Bob. "No, it's because we've run into a dense forest, and the trees above keep the rain off," spoke the professor. The others looked about them and saw that this was so. On every side the glare of the lamps showed big trunks and leafy branches, while ahead more trees could be observed. "Why it's just like a tunnel in the woods," said Bob. "See, the trees seem to meet in an arch overhead." "And what a fine road it is," put in Ned. "An altogether strange sort of road," agreed Jerry. "Suppose we stop and look about before we go any further? I don't like the looks of it." rain storm forest scenery visibility metaphor road condition Accordingly the machine was brought to a halt, and the travelers alighted. They found it just as Bob had said, almost exactly like an immense tunnel in the forest. Beneath their feet the road was of the finest Macadam construction. "And to think of finding this in the midst of Texas," observed Jerry. "Some one built this road, and cut the trees to make this tunnel," remarked the professor. "I wonder what sort of a place we have stumbled into." "At all events it doesn't rain anything to speak of in here," said Bob, "and it's a good place to stay until the storm is over." parking metaphor macadam road condition forest storm Jerry, in the meanwhile had walked on ahead some distance. In a few minutes he came hurrying back. His manner showed that he had seen something. "What is it?" asked the professor. "Don't make any noise, but follow me," replied the lad. In silence, and wondering what was about to happen, Bob, Ned and the scientist trailed after Jerry. He led them several hundred feet ahead of the automobile, and away from the glare of the lamps, the tunnel curving somewhat. sound forest visibility "See!" whispered Jerry, hoarsely. "Well, I never!" "That's queer!" There, about three hundred feet to the left of the main road and on a sort of side path, the travelers saw a small hut, brilliantly lighted up. Through an open window, a room could be seen, and several figures moving about in it. Chapter VII. - The Rescue of Tommy Bell (55-64) CHAPTER VII THE RESCUE OF TOMMY BELL "I wonder who they can be, to hide off in the woods this way," whispered Bob. The next instant there floated out from the hut a cry of anguish. It was the voice of a boy, seemingly in great pain or fear, and the travelers heard the words: "Oh don't! Please don't! You are killing me! I don't know! I can't tell you, for I would if I could! Oh! Oh! Please don't burn me again!" "It's a gang torturing some one!" almost shouted Ned. "Let's go to the rescue!" He would have sprung forward had not Jerry laid a detaining hand on his arm. "Wait, Ned," counseled Jerry. "Some one there evidently needs our help, but we must go with caution. First we must get our guns. We may need them!" Once more the appealing cry burst out. "Quick!" whispered Jerry. "Professor, you and Bob go back for the rifles, and bring the bulls-eye lantern that has the dark slide to it. Ned and I will stay here and watch!" Mr. Snodgrass and Bob lost no time. In less than five minutes they had rejoined Ned and Jerry. "Has anything happened?" asked Bob. "Nothing since," whispered Jerry. "Now we will go forward. Every one have his gun ready. I will carry the lantern." Almost as silently as shadows the four figures stole forward, Jerry showing a cautious gleam now and then to guide them on their way. They found there was a fairly good path leading up to the hut. They had covered half the distance when once more the cries of anguish burst out. This time they were followed by angry shouts, seemingly from several men, and voices in dispute could be heard. "One of us had better creep forward and see what is going on inside the cabin," whispered Jerry. "We must know what sort of enemies we have to meet." "I'll go," volunteered Bob. "Better let me," suggested the professor. "I have had some experience in stalking animals, and I can probably advance more quietly than you can." They all saw the reasonableness of this and the scientist started off. Like a cat he made an advance until he was so close to the hut that he could peer into the uncurtained window. What he saw made him start back in terror. In the room were half a dozen roughly dressed men, all armed, and with brutal faces. The room was filled with smoke from cigars and pipes, and cards were scattered over a rough table in the middle of the apartment. But what attracted the attention of the professor and made his heart beat fast in anger, was the sight of a small, pale boy, bound with ropes up against a big stone fireplace, on the hearth of which logs were burning. In front of the lad stood one of the largest and strongest of the tough gang, and in his hand he held a redhot poker, which, as the scientist watched, he brought close to the bare legs of the terror-stricken lad. Then came again those heart-rending cries: "Oh don't! Please don't! I would tell you where he is if I knew! Please don't burn me again!" The professor's blood boiled. "We'll soon put a stop to this horrible work!" he exclaimed to himself as he glided back to where the boys were and quickly made them acquainted with what he had seen. "Come on!" cried Jerry. "We must rescue that boy!" As softly as they could, the travelers advanced toward the hut. They found the door and, while the others with rifles in readiness stood in a semi-circle about it, Jerry made ready to knock and demand admittance. "If they don't open the door we must burst it in," said the boy. "The professor and I will look to that, while you and Ned, Bob, must stand ready to rush in right after us with your guns ready. But don't shoot unless your life is in danger, and then fire not to kill, but to wound." There was a minute of hesitation, for they all realized that it was taking a desperate chance to tackle such a rough gang in the midst of woods, far from civilization. But the sound of the poor boy's cries nerved them on as, once more, the pitiful appeal for mercy rang out. Jerry sprang forward and gave several vigorous blows on the door with the butt of his gun. All at once silence took the place of the confusion inside the hut. "Who's there? What do you want?" asked a gruff voice. "Open the door! We want that boy!" cried Jerry. Confused murmurs from within told that the gang had been taken by surprise. "I don't know who you are, but whoever you are you had better move on, if you don't want a bullet through you," called the man who had first answered the knock. "This is none of your affair." "Open the door or we'll burst it in!" cried Jerry, knowing the best way to be successful in the fight was to act quickly and take the men by surprise. There was a laugh from within the hut. It was answered by a rending, crashing splintering sound as Jerry and the professor, using the stocks of their guns, began a vigorous attack on the portal. The door was strong enough, but the hinges were not, and, in less than half a minute the barrier had given way and, with a bound the travelers found themselves tumbling into the hut. Instantly confusion reigned. The men shouted hoarsely, and several tried to reach their guns, which were stacked in one corner. "Hands up!" commanded Jerry sharply, leveling his gun at the man who seemed to be the leader. "Why, they're nothing but boys! Knock 'em out of the way!" cried one of the gang. At the same time another began creeping up behind Jerry, his intention being to grab the lad from the back and disarm him. But Bob saw the movement, and, leveling his rifle at the fellow, told him to halt. "I guess you've got the drop on us," growled the man whom Jerry was covering with the gun. "What's the game anyhow? Are you stage robbers?" "We want you to stop torturing that boy," cried Jerry. "Why, that's my kid, and I was only givin' him a taste of the rod because he wouldn't mind me; 'spare the rod and spoil the child,' is a good saying, you know." "Not from you!" snapped the professor. "Is this man your father?" the scientist asked the bound boy. "Speak up now! Ain't I your daddy?" put in the leader, scowling at the boy. "Tell the truth! Don't let him scare you!" said the professor reassuredly. "We are in charge here now. Is he your father?" "No—no—sir," stammered the poor little lad, and then he burst into tears. "I thought so!" commented the scientist. "Now you scoundrels clear out of here before we cause your arrest!" "You're talkin' mighty high," sneered the leader, "but look out! This matter is none of your affair, and that boy belongs to us!" "Take me away! Oh, please take me away! They'll kill me!" sobbed the lad. There was such a fiery look in the professor's eye as he leveled his gun at the gang of men that they started back, evidently fearing to be fired upon. "Come on!" called one. "We'll get some of the Mexicans and then we'll see who's runnin' things around here!" With that the gang sneaked out of the door, leaving the boys and the professor master of the situation. Their first act was to unbind the lad, who was almost fainting from pain and fear. "Are there any more of them?" asked Jerry. "Yes," said the boy faintly. "There are a lot of half-breed Mexicans in the gang. They are in a hut about a mile farther up the road, where they keep a lot of horses on a ranch." "Then perhaps we'd better get out of here while we have a chance," said the professor. "We can't fight a score or more. Let's take the boy and hurry away." "Come on then," said Jerry. "We'll get back to the auto. I only hope these men don't discover it and damage the car." But when an attempt to start was made it was found that the boy, who said, in response to an inquiry from Ned, that his name was Tommy Bell, was unable to walk. The ropes bound about his legs had caused the blood to stagnate in the veins. "Here!" exclaimed Jerry. "Bob, you and Ned go ahead with the lantern, and the professor and I will carry Tommy. Step lively now!" Moving in that order the procession started, and in a few minutes the travelers were back at the machine, which did not seem to have been disturbed. There was no sight or sound of the gang. Tommy was made as comfortable as possible, and then there was a brief consultation. health equipment risk passenger "Which way had we better go?" asked Jerry. "I think it would be best to turn around," said Bob. "We'll run up against the gang if we go ahead." "The best road is straight ahead through this woods," spoke Tommy. "If you take the other your machine will get stuck." "Then we'll take this one, and trust to luck not to have any trouble with the gang," decided Jerry, as he cranked up the car. Just as they started the moon came out from the clouds, for the rain had ceased, and, though not many of the silver beams shone through the thick foliage, it was much lighter than it had been. Jerry threw in the gear and the next instant the car glided forward and shot along the tunnel of trees, leaving the hut where Tommy Bell had been a prisoner. navigation forest road condition night moonlight speed skill "Is the Mexican camp near this main road?" asked the professor of Tommy. "About three hundred feet in," answered the boy, who was feeling much better. "How many men are at it?" "About one hundred, I guess, from what I heard them say." "Then I guess we'd better go past it on the fly," muttered Jerry, as he speeded up the machine until it was skimming along at a fast rate. In a little while there was a gleam of light through the trees ahead. speed forest scenery visibility "There's the camp!" exclaimed Tommy. A minute later the travelers were made well aware of it, for, as they whizzed past in the auto, they heard shouts of anger, mingling with the sounds of rushing feet, while an occasional pistol shot rang out, the flash of fire cutting the darkness. "They saw us," spoke Bob. "Lucky it was pretty dark, or they might have damaged the auto." "To say nothing of ourselves," added Ned. speed sound risk visibility weapon Chapter VIII. - Pursued by Enemies (65-71) accident car part maintenance CHAPTER VIII PURSUED BY ENEMIES As the auto sped along, Professor Snodgrass asked Tommy Bell how he had come to the hut in the forest. "Those men took me there," replied the boy. "And what did they try to make you do?" asked Jerry. "They wanted me to tell them where my father was," went on Tommy. "I could not because I did not know, and they burned me, because they did not believe I was telling the truth." "What did they want of your father?" inquired Mr. Snodgrass. "They want him to sign some papers connected with some property," went on Tommy. "I don't know much about it, except that father used to work with those men developing a mine. It didn't pay, and they left it, after selling it to some other men. I lived with my father, and my mother was alive then." speed law health The boy stopped, and, at the mention of his mother's name began to cry softly. "Poor little lad," muttered the professor, putting his arm, with a sort of caressing motion about Tommy. "Don't cry, lad," the scientist went on, in what seemed a sort of husky voice, for he was very fond of children; "don't worry, we'll look out for you; won't we, boys?" "You bet!" exclaimed Jerry, Ned and Bob in one voice. The auto was slowed down now, as there seemed to be no danger of pursuit. safety slowness "After mother died," Tommy resumed, "and the mine did not pay, father started prospecting with Nat Richards and the others in that crowd. But they were bad men, and soon got the better of my dad, taking away what little money he had left. "This ruined my father, and he grew discouraged, for he was old, and in poor health. He wandered away and I haven't seen him for nearly a year. I traveled about, doing what little work I could get to do, until I struck Texas. One day, about a week ago, I passed a ranch, the same one we just came by. I asked for work, and got it. Then I found the same men owned it that had ruined my father. "As soon as Nat Richards saw me he demanded to know where dad was. I couldn't tell, and then he promised me one hundred dollars if I would tell. He said they needed my father's signature to a paper. "I don't know as I would have told them where dad was if I did know. When I kept on refusing to give them the information, Nat Richards grew ugly. He had me taken off to the hut where you found me, and said he'd starve me to death if I didn't tell. "I almost did die from hunger," Tommy went on with a catch in his voice. "Then they tried torture. They burned me on the legs with a hot poker. That's what they were doing when you came in," and, overcome again by the thought of all he had suffered Tommy cried bitterly. The boys and the professor did all they could to comfort the friendless lad, and, soon Tommy's grief wore off. "We'll take you along with us," said Jerry heartily, "and we'll try to help you find your father. Where did you see him last?" "He was in Arizona," answered Tommy. "That's just where we're headed for," exclaimed Bob. "We'll take you there all right." Jerry leaned forward to throw in the higher speed gear when there was a sudden ripping, breaking sound, and the auto began to slow up. navigation car part accident sound slowness "What's the matter?" asked Ned. "Stripped the gear, I'm afraid," replied the steersman. "This is a nice pickle to be in." "Won't it run on the low or intermediate gear?" asked Bob. Jerry tried them, and found they were all right. "I guess we'd better stop here for the night," he said. "We may need the high gear any minute, and perhaps I can fix it in the morning. I have a spare wheel." "Then let's camp and have supper," said Bob eagerly. "I haven't eaten in a week by the way I feel." "Same here! I agree with you for once, Chunky," spoke Jerry. "It has been a long time since dinner, but with the excitement of the storm, the bear, and rescuing Tommy I didn't notice it before." accident driver car part maintenance In a little while the camping outfit was taken from the automobile, and a fire started in the sheet-iron stove, with the charcoal that was carried to be used in emergencies, such as being unable to find dry wood after a rain. Ned ground the coffee, while Bob went in search of water, using the lantern to aid him in the somewhat dim forest, though the moon helped some. He found a spring close at hand, and soon a fragrant beverage was steaming under the trees. Then some bacon was placed in the frying pan, and the hard tack was taken from the tin and other things prepared. equipment night visibility "Fall to!" commanded Ned, who was acting as cook, and fall to they all did, with a will. "Do you often camp out and eat in the woods like this?" asked Tommy. "I think it's jolly fun," and the lad, who was about twelve years old, laughed for the first time since his rescue. He, too, was eating with an appetite that showed he needed the food. Jerry briefly related some of their travel adventures, at which Tommy opened his eyes to their widest extent. "Cracky! But you have had stunning times!" he exclaimed. The meal having been finished, they began to think of getting some sleep. Blankets were brought out, and rolling themselves up in them the boys and the professor were soon in the land of nod. It was nearly dawn when Jerry was suddenly awakened by the far off baying of a dog. At first he could not imagine what the sound was, and sat up to listen more intently. Then a long, mournful howl was borne to him on the wind. "That's strange," he muttered. "There are very few dogs about here. I wonder what it is." At the same time Tommy Bell roused up, and he, too, heard the sound. "It's the gang after us!" he exclaimed. "They have a lot of hounds on the ranch! Hurry up! Let's get out of this!" "Hark!" exclaimed Jerry, raising his hand. Then the boys heard, faint and far off, the sound of galloping horses. "They're coming!" cried Jerry. His cry awakened the others, who sat up bewildered and heavy from sound sleep. "Lively's the word!" called Jerry. "They're after us!" No further explanation was needed, for all knew what Jerry meant. There was a hasty piling of blankets into the auto; the stove was packed up, and, while the travelers jumped into the car, Jerry went in front to crank it up. The cheerful chug-chug told that the machinery was in good working order, and then, the boy, leaping into the steersman's seat, threw in the low gear for the start. sound animal risk night speed equipment skill As he did so Ned glanced back and saw, coming around the bend of the forest road a score of horsemen and a pack of dogs. "Speed her up, Jerry!" called Bob. "I will!" was the exclamation, as Jerry leaned forward to throw in the high gear. A mournful screeching of the engine was the only response. "I forgot! The high gear is broken!" the steersman cried. "We can only use the intermediate, and that is not very fast!" "It's the best we can do, though!" said Bob. "We may get away from them!" On the intermediate cogs the auto made good speed, and, for a while, distanced the gang, the members of which, with shouts of rage, put their horses to their best effort. animal risk skill sound accident car part Chapter IX. - Into the Cave (72-80) speed risk animal topograpy CHAPTER IX INTO THE CAVE The sun began to peep up from beneath the eastern hills, throwing a rosy light over the earth. The woods began to thin out, and the sides of the "tunnel," which had been dense, became more open, so that glimpses of the country could be seen now and then. The chase was now on in earnest. For some time, however, the auto kept well in advance of the horsemen, for Jerry used all the power possible on the differential gear. If the high speed one had been in working order there would have been no question of the outcome, but, for once, luck was against the boys. forest metaphor speed animal skill car part Nearer and nearer came the gang on horseback. They got so close that their shouts to halt could be plainly heard. But Jerry was not going to give up. He gritted his teeth and gripped the wheel with a firmer grasp. "We seem to be slacking up," observed Ned. "That's what we are," spoke Jerry. "The auto is going back on us." The car did seem to be dragging, and there was no excuse for it in the condition of the road, which was a fine level one. "The car needs repairing," said Jerry, "and the way I have to run it isn't the best thing in the world for it." "Do you think they'll catch up to us?" asked Bob. "I'm afraid so," muttered Jerry. "We are going the limit now." animal risk sound car part road condition maintenance speed The thunder of the horses sounded nearer and the shouts of the pursuing gang came more plainly on the morning breeze. The auto coughed and wheezed, seeming like a man who has run far and is about to collapse. The explosions became less frequent, and finally one of the cylinders ceased to work altogether, leaving only three in commission. "Now we're in for it!" muttered Jerry, as, by a hasty glance back he saw the men spurring their horses on. "You'd better give up!" one of the gang shouted. "Not yet, you scoundrels!" cried Jerry, as he advanced the sparkling lever to the final notch. This seemed to be the last straw to the auto engine, for with a dismal snort it stopped short. "This settles it," muttered Ned grimly. "We are done for." animal sound risk metaphor car part accident speed Fortunately, however, they were on a slight slope now, and the car, with the impetus it had gathered, began to glide down the hill under its own momentum. But the horsemen were not one thousand feet in the rear and were drawing nearer. There seemed to be no help at hand and there was every indication that the boys would fall into the hands of their desperate enemies. topography speed animal risk "How much farther can we go?" asked Tommy suddenly. "To the foot of the hill," replied Jerry. "Why do you ask?" "That's far enough!" exclaimed Tommy. "I guess we can escape them." "How?" "Steer straight for that dead pine tree," replied the young lad, "and when you get almost to it, make a wide turn to the right." "What good will that do?" "There's a big cave right at the foot of the hill," replied Tommy. "I know for I passed it as I was tramping toward the ranch. It is large enough to take in the auto, and maybe we can hold it against the gang." "Hurrah!" shouted Jerry, as he shifted the wheel to conform with Tommy's directions. "We'll beat 'em yet!" navigation tree topography Straight toward the dead pine Jerry aimed, and, as he came to the bottom of the slope, he saw an opening in the bush-lined side of the hill, that told him the cave was at hand. Into it, by a skillful turn, he steered the auto, and the machine, running in about one hundred feet from the opening came to a stop, just as the horsemen came dashing up, much surprised by the sudden disappearance of those they were pursuing. "We're safe!" whispered Ned. "Not yet," said Jerry. "We must arm ourselves," and he began to get out the rifles from the bottom of the car, and hand them around to his companions. navigation skill speed scenery animal risk weapon tree Outside the cavern, which was a natural one in the rocky side of the hill, there came confused shouts. "Where did they go?" they heard a voice ask. "Must have gone over some ledge and been killed," was the reply. "Then that settles it," said the first one. "That's just our bad luck!" Then came a curious cry, and, by it, the boys knew their hiding place was discovered. "Here are the tracks of the wheels!" the travelers heard some one shout. "They turned off somewhere about here." "Then they're in that cave," was the rejoinder. "Dismount!" came a sharp order. The boys could hear the men getting off their horses, and the animals being led away. "Get your carbines ready!" was the next command. sound scenery animal risk "It's time for us to act!" whispered Jerry. "We must each one take a gun, and stand at the mouth of the cave. We'll warn them not to enter. If they persist we will have to fire, but we must try not to hurt any one mortally. Aim at their legs!" In the half darkness of the cavern the boys and the professor each took a rifle and crept to the mouth of the opening. No sooner had they reached it than they heard the tramp of feet, and shadows told them the bad men were advancing. "Halt!" cried Jerry, who had naturally assumed command. "Who are you?" asked the leader of the gang. "Never mind who we are," replied Jerry. "We are in possession of this cave, and we warn you not to come in!" "Big words for a kid!" sneered the leader. "You'll find we can back them up," spoke Jerry. Then, in lower tones, he bade his comrades stand in readiness. There was a consultation in whispers among the members of the gang, and then, seeming to feel that they had nothing to fear, they made a rush. "Fire!" cried Jerry. Remembering his instructions, the boys and the professor aimed low. To the reports of the rifles there succeeded howls of pain. Several of the gang shot back, but, as it was dark in the cave they could not see to aim, and they did no damage. "Give them another volley!" yelled Jerry. Again the rifles spoke, and this time, to the chorus of howls there was added a command from the leader to retreat, and the men rushed from the cave, which was filled with smoke. "Are—are any of them killed?" asked Tommy. "I don't believe so," replied Jerry. "We fired too low to do much damage. I only wanted to let them know we were ready for them." Waiting several minutes to see if there would be any further attack, Jerry cautiously advanced to the mouth of the cavern. In the semi-light he saw several blood stains, but the absence of any bodies told him the battle had not resulted fatally, for which he was thankful. Though the men were desperate characters, who, perhaps, would not stop at murder, the boy did not want the responsibility of killing any of them. "They seem to have retreated," Jerry reported when he joined the others. "But I don't suppose they have gone for good. This probably will only make them more anxious to get Tommy away from us, for it is him they are after." "Do you think they want me?" asked the younger lad. "I am pretty sure, after what you have told us about the mine, that they would give a good deal to get you," replied Jerry. "Perhaps your signature may be as good as that of your father's in case—in case—" and Jerry stopped suddenly. "You mean in case dad is dead?" asked Tommy quietly. "Yes," answered Jerry. "I don't believe my father is dead," spoke the boy bravely. "Somehow I feel that he is alive, and that I will find him. But if the gang is after me, it is not right for you all to be in danger on my account. Give me up to them, I'm not afraid—that is, I'll try not to be. Let me go out and surrender, and perhaps they'll go away." "I'd like to see myself!" exclaimed Jerry. "You don't stir out of this cave, Tommy Bell, until we go! I'm not afraid of that gang. We've been in tighter places than this and gotten out; haven't we, fellows?" "You bet!" echoed Bob and Ned. "Then give me a gun and let me help fight," begged Tommy. "Can you shoot?" asked Jerry. "My father taught me," was all Tommy said, and Jerry gave him a rifle, at which Tommy's eyes sparkled. A cautious glance from the mouth of the cave showed that the gang had withdrawn some distance away. But that they had no notion of giving up the fight was evidenced by the fact that they were constructing a camp so as to command the entrance to the cavern. "I guess they're going to try and starve us out," remarked the professor. "Lucky we have plenty of provisions and ammunition on hand for a siege." "Well, I guess we're just as well off here as anywhere," observed Jerry. "We'd have to lay up a few days at any rate, to fix the machine, and it might as well be in a good roomy cave, where the rain can't wet us." The boys waited an hour before laying aside their arms. Then, as the gang showed no signs of renewing the attack, they proceeded to make themselves more comfortable. "Might as well get ready to camp out," said Ned. "I'll set up the stove, and we'll have breakfast, though it is a little late." maintenance weapon equipment So while he set up the sheet iron apparatus, Jerry instructed Bob to stand guard at the mouth of the cavern, and to give instant notice of any activity on the part of the enemy. "But what will we do about eating breakfast?" asked Bob in a sorrowful voice. "Don't worry about that, 'Chunky,'" said Jerry. "I'll relieve you, or some one will, in time to get a meal. In the meantime keep a good watch." Then Jerry went back to help Ned, and, at the same time, make ready to repair the machine. maintenance equipment Chapter X. - Attacked by a Cougar (81-89) maintenance risk animal car part CHAPTER X ATTACKED BY A COUGAR "I say, Jerry," called Ned, "we're in a sort of a pickle." "How's that?" "Why, I started to make coffee and I got along all right until I came to the water." "Well?" "No, it's not at all well. In fact we ought to have a well here." "What do you mean?" "I mean there's no water in the cave!" "Great Scott! Is that so?" exclaimed Jerry. "I never thought of such a thing. Are you sure there's not a spring away in the rear?" "The professor and I made a good search," replied the temporary cook. "The cave comes to an end about three hundred feet back, and there's not a sign of water." For a few seconds Jerry was silent. Then he gave an exclamation. "I have it!" he cried. "We can use the emergency water supply on the auto. It is not very fresh, but it will do for coffee." "The very thing!" ejaculated Ned. It was fortunate that the auto carried an extra tank of water, as well as one of gasolene. They had often found it useful in getting a supply of the fluid for the radiator in places far from a supply, and the reserve tank had been built with that purpose in view. It held about ten gallons. Drawing on this Ned had a supply for his coffee which was soon boiling merrily on the stove, while some canned chicken and bacon were put on to fry. car part gasoline equipment "I say, is anybody going to relieve me?" called Bob from his post on guard. He smelled the breakfast in preparation, and it added to his hunger. "I'll go," volunteered the professor. "I'm in no hurry to eat, and perhaps I may pick up a specimen or two. This cave ought to be a good place for them." Accordingly he took Bob's place, and soon the four boys were eating ravenously, and with as good appetites as if a band of bad men was not outside, ready to attack them at the first opportunity. "Now to fix the machine," said Jerry as he rose from the ground that served as a table. "Light all the lamps, Ned, and then you and Bob come and help me. Tommy and the professor can take turns standing guard." It was no easy matter to take the automobile engine apart, and substitute a new gear for the broken one. It was also found necessary to insert new spark plugs, which had become covered with a coating of carbon; and the cylinders also needed cleaning, while the pistons had to be adjusted. The afternoon was spent in working at the auto, and by night such good progress had been made that Jerry said by the next evening it would be in shape to start. maintenance equipment car part engine technology skill night "That is if the gang let's us," spoke Ned. "We'll make a dash for it," replied Jerry. "We needn't fear them with the car in good order, for we can leave them behind in less than half an hour. We'll try to escape to-morrow about midnight." "In the meanwhile let's eat," suggested Bob, and his cry brought forth the usual chaffing about "Chunky's" appetite. Ned started to get supper. He went to the tank of the auto to draw some water for the tea, when he gave a cry of surprise. risk night car part "What's the trouble?" called Jerry. "The water's gone!" exclaimed Ned. "That's a leak in the tank!" They all rushed to the car. There, on the ground under the reserve tank was a muddy spot, showing where the precious fluid had dripped away. A quick examination showed there was a small hole in the reservoir. "Now we are up against it," murmured Bob. "Not quite yet," said Jerry. "How can we get water without being shot?" asked Ned. "There is quite a bit left in the pipe coils of the radiator," answered Jerry. "It will be pretty poor stuff to drink I guess, but it's better than nothing." car part accident mud There was considerable of the fluid in the big brass radiator on the front of the car, and, though it was stale, and had been heated many times, as it circulated about the cylinders, still, it was better than none. Made into tea, which was served as a change from coffee, it did not taste so very bad. But the situation was grave. With only water enough on hand to last about half a day, the plight of the travelers was a critical one. "We'll have to have water for the car, as well as ourselves," spoke Ned. "We can't run the machine without water." "That's so," admitted Jerry dubiously. "Something will have to be done." car part equipment risk After the evening meal Jerry resumed his labors on the car, working at double speed, in which he was assisted by Ned and Bob. The professor and Tommy took turns watching at the cavern's mouth. But there seemed to be no need of this, as the men showed no inclination to make a second attack. They appeared to know that the boys were caught in a trap; a trap that contained no water. So they evidently felt sure of success sooner or later, and that without the danger of being wounded. maintenance speed Jerry and his comrades worked to such advantage that shortly after midnight the auto was in shape to be used, and with the new high gear wheel in place. The car was given a good oiling, and was repacked in readiness for a quick start. "Now if we only had water," sighed Jerry, "we could slip out, and, I believe get away." But he knew it was useless to proceed without at least a full radiator. The extra tank, which had been repaired, could be filled later. The radiator coils were empty however. What had not been used for cooking had been made up into weak tea, as it was not considered healthful to drink the water as it came from the pipes. maintenance midnight technology car part oil "We've got to do something," said Jerry decidedly. "If we stay here much longer we'll die of thirst. If we could only make a dash and get some water we could manage. Two pails full would do." "Let me go after them," exclaimed Tommy. "I'm not afraid. I can run fast. Maybe I can get out there by the brook, get the water and come back before any of them see me." "No you couldn't," spoke Jerry, pointing to where one of the men, as sentry, could be seen, from the mouth of the cave, walking up and down near the camp fire. "If any one goes I will, and I think I'd better start." Bob and Ned both offered to make the dangerous attempt, and the professor insisted that he be allowed to try, as he knew how to move over ground very silently. But Jerry was firm in his determination. "I'm going to make the try about two o'clock," he said. "They'll be sounder asleep then." As he was very tired he stretched out in some blankets until it would be time to make the try. He fell asleep soon, and the others moved away, talking in whispers lest they disturb him. Almost exactly at the appointed hour Jerry awakened. He sat up, and, slipping a pair of Indian moccasins over his shoes, to enable him to move as silently as possible, he cautiously approached the mouth of the cavern, carrying two water pails with him. The moon had gone down and it was quite dark, which was favorable to Jerry's plans. As he got to the entrance of the cavern the boy looked toward the gang's camp. There seemed to be no sign of life, and Jerry thought perhaps the sentry had fallen asleep. As silent as a cat the lad made his way toward the stream, which he could hear gurgling and splashing over the stones. His throat was dry, for the last of the cold tea had been drunk, and his exertions had made him very thirsty. As he heard the sound of the brook he felt a fierce desire for water, so strong was it that he felt he would brave anything to get it. Foot by foot he advanced, crouching down as low as he could. He was beginning to feel that he would be successful, and not be detected. He could see the sparkle of the water about three hundred feet away, and his parched mouth and throat seemed to be as dry as leather. He could hardly swallow. On and on he went. Now he was about two hundred feet away and he was getting ready to make a dash for the brook. Suddenly he heard a clicking sound, and knew it was a rifle being cocked. Next there rang out on the night air the command: "Halt or I'll fire!" Poor Jerry was detected! He came to a stop, sick at heart at the failure of his plan. For a moment there was no other sound. The boy could not see who had discovered him, though he instinctively felt the eyes of the man on him. Suddenly there was a shaking in the tree somewhat to Jerry's left, and about one hundred feet away. Then came a rustle of the leaves on the ground and the boy made out the figure of a man, dimly, standing with rifle aimed straight at him. "Throw up your hands!" was the next order, and, letting the pails fall to the ground, Jerry obeyed. Then, all at once, there burst out on the air a most terrifying sound. It was a blood-curdling yell, a screech as if from some one in mortal agony. Jerry felt the cold chills go down his back. The next instant there was a crashing sound, and, from the tree under which the man stood who had aimed at the boy a dark body shot downward. The screech of the cougar, for such it was, mingled with the terrific yells of the sentry. Jerry dimly saw a confused tangle of man and beast. He heard the man shout for help. He heard his rifle go off, and then came sounds that told that the camp had been aroused. The attack of the cougar had come just in time. Jerry, taking advantage of the diversion, grabbed up his pails, and running to the brook filled them with water. Then, as fast as he could go, he ran toward the cave. Chapter XI. - A Runaway Auto (90-97) speed maintenance car part night risk weapon CHAPTER XI A RUNAWAY AUTO Behind the boys sounded the yells and shouts of the men in camp, mingled with rifle shots and the screeching of several of the cougars, for, it developed, a band of three, grown desperate by hunger, had made an attack. "Are you hurt, Jerry?" cried Bob and Ned, as, with his pails of water, the boy staggered into the cave. "Not a bit, but I had a close shave," was the answer. "But we must be quick! Here! Help fill the radiator with the water." "Can't we drink any?" asked Bob who, like the others, was very thirsty. "Not a drop," said Jerry firmly. "We need every bit for the automobile. Without it we can't get away from here, and now is the only chance we may have to escape. We can drink later." animal sound risk speed car part While Jerry and Ned filled the radiator the other boys and the professor made ready for the escape. Everything was packed up and placed in the car, which, as soon as the coil was filled, would be ready to start and dash from the cave. "I'm afraid this is not going to be water enough," spoke Jerry as the second of the pails was emptied into the radiator. "Can't I make a dash for some more? There seems to be excitement enough in the camp to keep them from watching me," said Ned. "I'm going to try." maintenance equipment speed car part There was considerable activity among the ranch men. The cougars, though wounded, seemed to have temporarily lost all fear and made attack after attack on the men, who had to fire several volleys from their rifles. "Go ahead," said Jerry. "I'll start the engine slowly." Grabbing up the pails Ned walked from the cave. "I'm going to help, also," said Tommy. "No, you stay here," commanded Jerry. "Bob can go if he wants to." animal risk weapon equipment Bob joined Ned. They ran to the stream and had filled the pails when, just as they started on the way back, the wounded cougars, driven from the camp, came dashing after the boys. "Now we're in for it!" exclaimed Ned. "Run, Bob!" And run they did, as they had never run before, and left the beasts behind. "Have you the water?" asked Jerry eagerly as the boys came in. "We have!" exclaimed Bob. "And hard enough work we had getting it." "Good!" Jerry hurriedly poured most of it into the radiator, though every one in the cave looked at the fluid with longing eyes. "I must get a drink soon, or I shall go half crazy!" said the professor suddenly. "I never was so thirsty in my life." "I'm saving just a little bit for each of us," spoke Jerry. "But it is a very small quantity, and will only serve to wet our mouths. If all goes well we shall soon have plenty." He distributed about a pint of the water among his companions, and though each one got only a little it brought welcome relief. maintenance car part "Now we're ready to skip out!" announced Jerry as he screwed the cap on the radiator tank, and increased the speed of the engine. "But first we had better take a look outside to see if any of that gang are in sight." The professor, who had good eyes, went to the mouth of the cave, and, coming back, reported that he could see a dark mass moving on the further bank of the stream. car part speed engine "They have evidently gotten over their scare about the cougars," Mr. Snodgrass said, "and are waiting to bag us. What are we going to do?" "There's only one thing to do," replied Jerry. "And that is what?" "We must make a dash for it. The road is fairly good, and I guess we can speed up enough to get out of the range of their bullets in a short time. They can't be very good shots or they would have killed the three cougars, with all the bullets they fired." So it was decided. They all took their places in the car, and Jerry, who, as if by mutual consent, assumed the place of steersman, leaned forward to throw in the gear clutches. "Here we go!" he cried. "Look out everybody!" risk road condition speed driver passenger car part skill Slowly at first, but gathering speed, the auto moved out of the cave. The lamps lighted up the path, and, though the boys realized that the lanterns disclosed their position to their enemies, they had to use them for their own safety. It was too dark to do without them. A few seconds later and the car emerged from the cavern. As it shot out there came a chorus of angry cries from the camp of the ranchmen, and several shots were fired, though none of them came close enough to be uncomfortable. slowness car part visibility risk night speed sound weapon "Here we go!" cried Jerry again, as he increased the speed, and the auto fairly leaped forward. It swayed from side to side, and struck several ruts, so that the occupants were tossed about. But the main thing was that they went ahead, and away from their enemies. Jerry, peering as best he could into the darkness ahead, made a course for the stream, intending to go close to it, and then run along the bank, or near it, as he had noted in the afternoon that there was a fairly good road there. speed skill risk navigation visibility night river road condition Gradually the shouts of the men, and the firing of their guns died away, and the travelers began to breathe more freely. They had made their escape, and, for the present, were safe. "Oh do let's stop and get a drink!" pleaded Bob. "Not yet!" exclaimed Jerry. "Five minutes more will not kill you, and it may save all our lives," for he did not want to slack up while there was any danger of the ranchmen coming after them. The five minutes seemed like an hour to Bob, and the others, too, were impatient. But at last Jerry shut off the power and the machine came to a halt not far from the creek. Out scrambled the boys and the professor, and then, in spite of the danger of drinking snakes and lizards in the darkness, they all made for the stream, where they quenched their thirst from small collapsable cups which each one had been holding in readiness for just that chance. sound weapon risk speed parking river equipment "That's better than an ice cream soda!" exclaimed Ned. "You bet!" agreed Bob heartily. "I never tasted such fine water." "Very good!" said the professor. "I guess we can stop long enough to lay in a supply now," remarked Jerry. "We can start off again in five minutes, and in that time they can not catch up to us." So the radiator was filled to the top, and the auxiliary tank likewise, while the boys indulged freely in the liquid, thinking, perhaps, they might have some of the characteristics of the camel, and could drink enough at one time to last a week or more. Then they started forward again, and the auto soon carried them beyond the possibility of capture that night. They camped out in the open, and, in spite of their rather exciting adventures they slept soundly, awaking as the sun rose. maintenance car part night pleasure Ned was given a chance to run the machine, and he took the front seat with Tommy, who was delighted to be there for the first time. They had not been going long before they found the land was rising. "We're coming into the mountains now," said Jerry. Up a long hill, with a gradual assent, puffed the auto. On either side were broad fields where tall Pampas grass was growing, amid which thousands of grasshoppers, or some similar insect, were singing. "Better be sure your brake is in good working order," suggested Jerry, as they came to the steep descent on the other side. "We don't want any more accidents." driver passenger mountain topography scenery car part risk Ned tried the ordinary brake. There was a clicking sound, followed by a snapping one. "Brake's busted!" exclaimed Jerry. "Try the emergency!" Ned did so. That, too, gave out only a faint screech, and did not grip the axle as it should. "Look out now!" yelled Jerry. "We're in for it!" An instant later the auto began to move forward at a rapid pace. All Ned's efforts to check it were in vain. "We're running away!" cried frightened Tommy. "I wish I'd stayed in back!" "Keep to the middle of the road!" Jerry cried above the noise of the auto rushing down the steep hill. At the bottom the road took a sharp turn, and the hearts of all beat rapidly with fear as they beheld it. accident car part risk speed topography Chapter XII. - Tommy Finds a Friend (98-106) accident car part risk agriculture CHAPTER XII TOMMY FINDS A FRIEND So rapidly did the machine shoot down the descent that it almost seemed the curved road was rushing to meet the travelers. Again and again Ned tried the brakes, but without avail. He had shut off the power at the first indication that something was wrong. "We can never make that turn!" exclaimed Bob. "I'm afraid not," agreed Jerry. They were all clinging to the sides of the car, while Ned gripped the steering wheel with a desperate hold. "Look out for the turn!" cried the professor as they came to the sharp curve. speed risk car part driver passenger accident But, to the surprise of all, Ned, instead of shifting the wheel in at least an attempt to swing around the half circle kept straight on the course. The boy had resolved on another plan. Directly in front of him, and to the left of the road was a big field of tall waving Pampas grass, the plumes nodding eight feet above the ground. It was shut off from the thoroughfare by a frail wooden fence. "I'm going to steer into the grass!" cried Ned. "It's our only chance!" skill car part risk scenery agriculture speed plant The next instant there was a splintering sound as the auto crashed through the fence, which offered no more resistance, because of the great speed, than a paper hoop does to a circus performer. Then it seemed to the travelers as though they had been plunged into a tossing, waving sea of grass. The tall Pampas plumes and the stems wrapped themselves about the boys and the professor, almost choking them by the pollen that was shaken off. The feathery-like tops tickled them in the eyes, nose and mouth as, carried by the runaway auto, they were dashed through them. But the grass had just the effect Ned had intended and hoped for. It clogged the wheels of the machine, and though soft, offered so much resistance that the machine soon began to slow down, as does a locomotive when it runs into a snow drift. After plowing through the field for about two hundred feet the car came to a final stop, with a little jolt. sound accident speed agriculture risk plant skill slowness "Santa Maria! Caramba!" yelled a voice and then followed such a string of Spanish that the boys thought they had run down a whole camp of Mexican herders. "Did we hit any one?" asked Jerry, peering forward as well as he could through the tall grass. "Caramba! Hit any one! The Americano pirates have killed Don Elvardo!" exclaimed the unseen one. "You have broken—!" and then followed such a confusion of words that the boys could not understand. "Have we broken your leg?" asked Jerry, speaking in Spanish this time. "Santa Maria! No! You have broken the cigarette I just rolled!" and with that the grass parted in front of the auto, and a little Mexican, wearing a suit profusely trimmed with silver braid, showed himself. nationality risk health agriculture plant The boys felt like laughing as they beheld the woe-begone face of Don Elvardo. In his hand he held the remains of a cigarette. "Behold!" he went on tragically. "I am peacefully walking in my field, looking over my crop of Pampas, when I feel a desire to smoke. I sit me down and roll a cigarette. I am about to light it, when—Santa Maria! There is a rushing sound of ten thousand imps of darkness. My grass is mowed down as if by a sickle in the hands of a giant. I turn in fear! I see something coming! I can not tell what it is, for the tall grass hides it! I turn to flee! The infernal thing keeps after me! Presto! Caramba! It hits me so—" Don Elvardo illustrated by slapping himself vigorously on the thigh. "Then I fall! I am crushed! I am killed! I die in pain and fear! I arise! Behold, senor Americanos, my cigarette is broken!" "We're very sorry, of course," said Jerry politely. "But you see our auto ran away on the hill, and as the brakes would not work, the only thing to save our lives was to steer into this field. We did not know you were here, or we would have sent around to your house to ask permission to enter," added the lad sarcastically. "But I am here!" snapped the Mexican. "So we see," admitted Jerry. "We are willing to pay for any damage we have done." The Mexican's eyes sparkled, and he rubbed his hands as if in anticipation. accident car part agriculture pleasure "That alters the case," said Don Elvardo. "The Americano senors are welcome ten thousand times to my field. I bid you welcome. I salute you. Pay. Oh, yes! It is but right that you should pay!" Again he rubbed his hands together. "About what would you say it was worth?" asked Ned. "I am no miser," replied the Mexican. "I do not wish to insult my friends the Americanos. I will only charge them for the damage to the grass. The broken fence is of no moment. Pay me one hundred dollars and I will say no more about the affair." "He's a robber!" said Jerry in a low voice. "We haven't done five dollars' damage to his crop and the fence combined." "I guess he will whistle for his one hundred dollars," said Ned. Don Elvardo heard him. "So!" he exclaimed. "You will not pay me one little hundred dollars for the damage. Caramba! Then it is I who shall at once lodge a complaint with the authorities. We will see if there is a law in the land, or if crazy Americanos can spoil a poor man's crop and pay nothing. We shall see!" "Offer him ten dollars," suggested Bob. The boys consulted together a minute or two. They wanted to be fair, but they did not care to be robbed. The professor had taken no part in the discussion. He seemed to be intently examining the tall grass on either side of the machine. Suddenly the scientist stepped from the side of the car, and rapidly made his way to the front, where Don Elvardo stood. Mr. Snodgrass gazed intently at the Mexican. Then he gave a leap toward the Don, exclaiming as he did so: "There it is! Right on your hat! Don't move an inch or it will jump away! I have it now! This is indeed a lucky day! Just a second and I'll have it!" With that the professor made a leap toward the Mexican with outstretched hands. law agriculture plant speed "Santa Maria! Diavolo?" screamed Don Elvardo as he saw the scientist coming for him. "Caramba! It is to murder me that you come!" Then, calling for help at the top of his voice, the Mexican turned and fled in terror, his course being marked through the tall grass by the wave-like motion he imparted to the plumes in his haste. "Why—why what in the world ails him?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "He probably thought you were going to choke him to death," said Jerry with a laugh. "In fact your actions were not so very far from giving that idea." "Why bless my soul!" ejaculated the professor. "All I wanted was to get a fine specimen of a blue grasshopper from his big hat, where the insect had alighted. It was worth about forty dollars." "I saw some just as good in a city once for twenty dollars," put in Tommy, "and they had more silver braid on." "What! A grasshopper with silver braid on?" cried the scientist. "I thought you said his hat was worth forty dollars," went on Tommy, somewhat embarrassed. "I was speaking of the blue grasshopper," explained Mr. Snodgrass. "My, I am sorry to have missed that one." "But you did a good service in scaring this Mexican away, as you did the chap with the ox cart," spoke Ned. "He might have made trouble for us." "And we had better get out of here while we have the chance," said Jerry. "He may come back any minute." Accordingly the auto was turned around, and run over the same course by which it had entered the field. Otherwise it would have been almost impossible to have advanced, so thick was the grass. The road regained, the machine was sent along it at good speed, for fear Don Elvardo or some of his friends might appear. "We had better stop and fix the brakes," suggested Ned, after an hour's run. "And get dinner at the same time," put in Bob. "We'll kill two stones with the same automobile, as the poem says." "I guess you're a little twisted," remarked Ned, "but your intentions are good." agriculture plant navigation maintenance speed A halt was made under a big tree, near a little stream, and soon a good fire was built and dinner was being cooked. It was found that some nuts had become loose on the brakes, and this trouble Jerry soon remedied. After the meal they sat about and talked a while. "We'll soon be in New Mexico," remarked Jerry, consulting a small map. "Will we?" asked Tommy. "I'm so glad." "Why?" "Because there's a man who was once a friend of my father at a place called Las Cruces. It's near the Rio Grande river. If we could go there I know Mr. Douglass would take care of me." "Then we'll go there," said Jerry. "It will be right on our route." tree river maintenance car part navigation map They all agreed this would be a good plan. That night the travelers stopped in a small village where they had good beds and meals. They resumed the journey next day, and for several days thereafter met with no mishaps as they speeded toward Las Cruces. They had left the lowlands and were well up among the hills by this time. One day, just at dusk, they rolled into Las Cruces and, after a little inquiry found Mr. Douglass, who was very glad to see Tommy. "I will be glad to take care of him for the present," he said. navigation speed topography Chapter XIII. - The Colored Man's Ghost (107-116) navigation rural African American CHAPTER XIII THE COLORED MAN'S GHOST The travelers found the town where Tommy's friend lived such a pleasant place that they spent several days there. It was a thriving place, and the auto was a source of endless wonder to most of the inhabitants, who had never seen one. Had the boys wished they could have made considerable money taking parties out in the car for short trips, but they knew they had a long journey before them and they wished to save the machine all they could. It needed some repairs which were made by the local blacksmith, and then the travelers were ready to move forward again. city rural pleasure mechanic maintenance "I don't know how to thank you for all you did for me," said Tommy, as the boys were leaving. "You saved my life. Maybe I will have a chance to do you a good turn some day. If I have, you can bet I'll do it." "We know you will, Tommy," said Jerry. "Well, good-by. I hope we see you again." "Same here!" exclaimed Bob and Ned. They did not know how soon they were to meet their friend again, nor in what a peculiar manner he was able to aid them in return for what they had done for him. For several days the auto skimmed along through a somewhat lonely country. The roads were not very good and a number of times progress was so slow that only a few miles were made between sunrise and sunset. Now and then the travelers would come to a lonely cabin, where they could replenish their food supply or get a night's lodging. But, in the main, they had to depend on their own resources. Occasionally they would reach a little settlement, where their arrival never failed to produce as much excitement as a fire and circus combined. Every day brought them nearer their gold mine, concerning which they were very anxious, as they had heard nothing further from Jim Nestor. navigation road condition slowness equipment rural pleasure "The mine may have been taken away from him for all we know," chafed Jerry as he fretted at the delay caused by bad roads. "We'll hope for the best," said Ned. "No use crossing a bridge until you come to it." The travelers were well up among the lower mountains now, though compared with the heights they had still to scale the range was one of mere hills. One evening just at dusk, after a particularly hard day of travel, during which the auto had broken down several times, necessitating minor repairs, the Motor Boys came to a place where two roads divided. road condition mountain maintenance navigation "I wonder which we had better take?" asked Bob, who was at the wheel. "The right," said Jerry. "The left," advised Ned. "Toss up a cent," suggested the professor. "Make it heads right and tails left." They did so. The coin came down heads up, and Bob turned the machine to the right. It had not proceeded far on this road when, about a mile ahead, the travelers saw a couple of log cabins. "Well, there's shelter for to-night, at all events," Jerry remarked, "and, I hope, supper as well. I'm getting a little tired of bacon and coffee." navigation driver passenger They found one of the cabins occupied by a negro, his wife, and seven children, the oldest a boy of sixteen and the youngest a little girl, just able to toddle. "Good evening," greeted the professor, "can we get supper and lodging anywhere about here?" "I reckon I kin fix yo' up on th' eatin' question, boss," remarked the darkey as he stood in the cabin door as the auto drew up, "but I 'clare t' goodness I can't find no room t' stable that there rip-snortin' beast ye got." "We don't expect you to take the auto in," spoke Jerry. "If you give us beds for ourselves, or even a room to sleep in we'll pay for it and glad to do it." parking rural African American "Land sakes, I'd like t' 'blige yo', deed 'n I would boss," went on the negro, "but my cabin am jest crowded t' th' doah wif me an' my fambily. Yo' am welcome t' suthin' t' eat, but land a' massy whar I'se goin' t' have yo' sleep hab got me cogitatin'." "What's the matter with that other cabin?" asked Ned. "What other cabin?" asked the negro, not turning to look in the direction of the second shack, about a quarter of a mile down the road. "That one," went on Ned, pointing to it. "There may be room in it." "Oh I reckon there's room enough," replied the colored man, "only—well to tell you th' truff, boss, it ain't exackly healthy t' sleep in that cabin, er even t' talk about it. 'Scuse me but I don't want even t' look at it." "Why not?" The colored man seemed to hesitate. He fidgeted and seemed ready to go back into his house. "Why not?" asked Ned again. "Kase it's--it's got ghosts an' it's hanted!" exclaimed the negro, "an' it ain't safe fer any one to go near it, let alone sleep in it." "Nonsense," remarked the professor. "There are no such things as ghosts." "Yo' wouldn't say so if yo' went to that there cabin after dark," persisted the colored man. "'Tain't safe t' talk about it, so yo'll please 'scuse me." "But what sort of a ghost is it?" asked Jerry. "It's big an' it's white, an' it rattles chains an' groans sumthin' turrible," said the negro. "Did you ever see it?" asked Ned. "Did I ever see it, boss? Couse I done see it. Only t'other night it near skeered me to deff." "How long has it been there?" asked Bob. "'Bout a week I reckon," replied the negro. "Ever since Rastus Johnson moved away from th' cabin." "I guess we'll take a chance with the ghost for the sake of spending a night under shelter," said Jerry. "Meanwhile we can get supper here." And a fine supper they had. Mrs. Jones, wife of the colored man, proved an excellent cook. She fried some chicken, made some corn bread, and that, with preserves and some good coffee, made up a meal which the travelers voted one of the finest they had eaten in many months. "Can we get breakfast here, also?" asked Jerry when supper was finished. "If yo' am alive," replied Jones solemnly. "If we're alive? What do you mean?" "Well I reckon ef yo' sleeps in that hanted cabin, there won't be any of yo' left t' want a meal in th' mo'nin'," explained Jones. "It's takin' yo'uns' lives in yo' hands t' go nigh it suah yo' is boahn!" All they could say did not induce the man to change his mind. He was plainly afraid of the cabin and the "ghost." But the travelers were determined not to let a little thing like that interfere with a chance to sleep under shelter. Accordingly they covered the auto with the tarpaulin provided for that purpose, and moved their blankets into the deserted cabin, which was fairly clean and in good condition. One of the big oil lamps gave sufficient light. The cabin contained only two rooms, one on the ground floor, and the other above it, reached by a movable ladder. "I think we had better sleep upstairs," said Jerry. "The door doesn't fasten very securely, and besides I think it will be drier there." equipment night visibility So they mounted the ladder, spread their blankets out on the floor, and were all soon fast asleep. None of them expected to be disturbed, for they laid the story of the ghost to an overwrought imagination of the colored man. So it was with a sudden feeling of terror that Jerry was awakened in the middle of the night by hearing a deep groan, seeming to come from the room below. He sat up, rubbing his eyes to further awaken himself, and then he became aware that Bob was also sitting up. He could see because of the moonlight streaming in through a window. "Did you hear anything?" asked Jerry. "I thought so," answered Bob. "I thought I did," put in Ned, who, it seems had been awakened at the same time the others were. Once more there sounded an unmistakable groan. It came from the ground floor, and was so loud, penetrating and, in spite of the would-be bravery of the boys, so awful coming out of the darkness, that they shuddered. "What's that?" asked the professor, who also, this time, was roused from his slumbers. Before either of the boys could answer the groan was repeated and this time it was followed by the unmistakable clanking of chains. "The colored man's ghost!" whispered Bob. "Nonsense!" exclaimed the professor, but, no sooner had he spoken than there came another weird noise, and the chains rattled louder than ever. "Light the lantern," whispered Jerry. "We must see what it is. Perhaps it's only some one playing a joke." "Let me take a look before you make a light," suggested the professor. "I can look down the ladder hole." Softly he crawled over to the opening and peered down. As he did so the noises were repeated. The professor uttered an exclamation. "It bears the other descriptive marks of the creature the negro told about," he said, crawling back to where the boys were huddled together. "It is big and white and it seems to be trying to climb up the ladder." "Wait until I get my revolver," whispered Jerry. "We'll soon see if it's a ghost or not." "Don't fire," cautioned the professor. "It may be some one trying to scare us, but we have no right to fire at any one." "I'll give 'em a warning, at any rate," said the lad. He went to the opening and called down: "Tell us who you are or I'll shoot, do you hear?" A groan and the clanking of chains was the only answer. This was followed by a violent agitation and shaking of the ladder. "Bang!" went Jerry's revolver. He had fired into the air. Succeeding the report there was a silence. This was broken by a further clanking of chains. Then came a crash, and when the echo of this died away the sound of feet running away could be heard. "Pretty solid footsteps for a ghost," commented Ned. "Look! Look!" cried Bob, pointing out of the window. There, running down the moon-lit road the boys saw a big white mule, to the neck of which was fastened a chain that rattled with every step. "There's the ghost," said the professor. "I thought I recognized the voice as that of a quadruped with which I was familiar. The animal has probably broken loose from the field and came here in search of food." "Well it certainly scared me all right," admitted Bob. The others did not commit themselves, but there was no doubt but that they had several heart-flutters. "I wonder what that crash was?" asked Ned. The professor glanced down the hole leading to the first floor. "The ghost made it by kicking our ladder away," the scientist replied. "I wonder how we can get down." But the boys did not worry about this, being too sleepy. Soon they were all snoring again, and did not awaken until the sun was streaming in the window. Chapter XIV. - Trouble With a Bad Man (117-126) rural navigation pedestrian risk CHAPTER XIV TROUBLE WITH A BAD MAN "This is a nice pickle!" exclaimed Bob, who was the first to rise. "What's the matter, lost your collar button?" sleepily inquired Jerry. "No, but the mule knocked the ladder down, and we'll have to jump or stay here." "It isn't far to the ground in this shanty," remarked Jerry. "Go ahead and drop down." "It may not be very far," said Bob, "but I don't want to take the chance." "Afraid you'll sprain your ankle?" "No, but I don't want to fall into the cistern." "Cistern? What are you talking about?" "Well," went on Bob, "there's a cistern right under this ladder opening. The mule pulled the cover off last night, and whoever drops down is going to land goodness knows where." The others soon confirmed what Bob had said. When the cabin was built a cistern had been sunk in the middle of the ground floor. This had been covered, and the ladder rested on it when the travelers went to bed, but the mule, probably in search for a drink, uncovered it. "Can't get down without a ladder," observed Ned. "What's the matter with jumping from one of the outside windows?" asked Jerry. They thought the idea a good one until they saw that the only one there was opened onto a pile of sharp rocks, into which even a jump of fifteen feet might be dangerous. "What's to be done?" asked Bob. "Guess we'll have to wait until Jones comes to see if we are dead," replied Jerry. "Then he can cover the cistern and raise the ladder." "I guess we'll have a long wait for Jones," commented Ned. "He's so afraid of this place that he'll never come within hearing distance of it." "Let's yell out of the window," suggested Bob. They did so, uniting their voices in a volume of sound. It seemed to have no effect though, for there was no movement about the colored man's cabin. "Once more," urged the professor. This time they produced a result, for, down the road they could see Jones come to the door of his shack and peer out. Thereupon they waved their hands to him, and in a few minutes the colored man was standing as close as he seemed to dare to come to their shelter. "Is yo' all daid?" he asked in awed accents. "Not quite all of us," answered the professor, "but we will be unless you come in and hoist the ladder for us." "Did th'—th' ghost knock it down?" asked Jones. "It did," replied Bob, solemnly. "I knowed it! I knowed it! Maybe you'll believe me next time. Golly! I ain't goin' t' stay here," and Jones was about to run off down the road. "Here! Come back!" commanded the captives, and the colored man reluctantly did so. "I doan laik t' stay round yeah!" pleaded the negro. "'Tain't no ways healthy. What yo' done want, anyhow?" "We want you to hoist the ladder for us," said the professor. "Come now, don't be silly. The only ghost there was, and we saw it, was an old white mule with a chain on its neck." "Co'se it were! Dat's de form it took when I seed it!" cried Jones. "But it can take on any shape, dat ghost can. Next time it'll be a lion er a tiger er a elephant. Monstrous terrible things, ha'nts is. So de ghost done knocked de ladder down! I knowed it would do suthin'." Amid a show of genuine fear the colored man entered the cabin, and after replacing the cistern cover cautiously raised the ladder. Then he ran out as if the ghost were after him. "I guess we'll never be able to convince Jones that there isn't a ghost here," said Jerry as they came down and started down the road toward the colored man's cabin, where they were to have breakfast. "Here's something that may prove to him that the mule was the ghost," spoke Ned, picking up a horse shoe, which was on the cabin floor. They showed it to the negro, but he only shook his head. "It looks like a hoss shoe, dat I admit," said Jones, "but it's enchanted. It'll turn inter a snake er a tiger er suthin' terruble 'fore long. I don't want nothin' t' do with it," and he cast it into the bushes by the side of the road. The excitement of the night had taken none of the travelers' appetites away, and they made a good meal. Then, once more they took the road, disappearing in a cloud of dust, while Jones, his wife, and the seven children stood and stared in wonder. They traveled all that day with only an occasional glimpse of civilization in the shape of some house or cabin. No villages were reached, it being a centre of vast grazing lands, where only a lonely herder, or, perhaps two, remained to guard the cattle. That night they camped in the open, and found it rather uncomfortable, for it began to rain about midnight. "I wish we were back in the cabin, with the ghost-mule and everything else," muttered Jerry, as he tried to find a dry spot to lie down on. dust rural night rain But troubles can not last forever, and morning came finally, bringing a clear day and a bright sun which was very welcome. Breakfast over they took the road once more. About noon they came to a small town that boasted of what was called the "Imperial Hotel." "I suppose we'd better try the Imperial," suggested Ned. "It don't look very scrumptious, but you can't always tell by the appearance of a toad how far he can jump." The auto drew up in front of the inn with a noise that brought a score of men from the barroom. "Jumpin' Gila Monsters and rattlesnakes!" cried one of the men, evidently a miner from his dress. "I've read about them Satan go-carts, but I never believed in 'em. Sakes alive, but they do look funny without a hoss in front." sunshine city class He and the others gathered about the car, asking so many questions that it took all the boys and the professor as well to answer them. When curiosity had been partially satisfied the boys went into the hotel. While there was nothing to make a weary traveler glad he had found it, the place was not as bad as many where the Motor Boys had stopped. They had a good meal, and decided to rest a few hours before proceeding. It was along about three o'clock. The crowd of men in the barroom had become larger as new comers arrived. It was also noisier and loud voices, and occasional threats to shoot, made the travelers think it was about time to move on. pedestrian sound risk city They were about to go to their machine when they were approached on the porch where they were sitting, by the miner who had first remarked about the auto. He had evidently been drinking more than was good for him, and was in a quarrelsome mood. "If you don't want to play with me you needn't," he called, evidently to some one inside. "I can find some one to shuffle the cards with me. Here, you kid"—to Jerry, "you come an' we'll have a little game." "Thank you, I don't play," said Jerry quietly. "What's that?" came the sharp return. "I said I didn't play." "Why hang my buttons! You got to play when I tell you to," cried the miner. "Pete Simmons ain't used to bein' told no. Here, sit down to this table an' deal the cards," and he grabbed Jerry by the arm, and attempted to force him into a chair. class risk rural city "Let go my arm!" exclaimed Jerry. "You do as I tell you or I'll make you!" exclaimed the brute. "I'm used to havin' my way!" "Take your hand off!" commanded Jerry, drawing back his fist, for he was strong and hot tempered. "Now be nice, be nice!" sneered the man. "Let go of him!" exclaimed Ned coming forward and standing beside his chum, while Bob also ranged up alongside. "We'll all take a hand in this if you force us to." "I can tackle the three of you with both hands tied behind my back," cried the miner, flushing with anger at being defied by the boys. "Count me in too," spoke Professor Snodgrass, joining the lads. "I don't want to fight, but I will if I have to." Now the professor, though a mild man, was, by reason of his out-of-door life, in fine physical condition, and no mean antagonist, which fact the miner saw. "Oh well, I was only foolin'," the ugly chap remarked with a poor attempt at a smile. But his face showed his rage. He moved away in a few seconds, and shuffled to the end of the porch, where he soon fell asleep on a bench. Bob looked over and saw him, as the boys were discussing the program for the remainder of the day. "Let's play a trick on that brute," said Bob. "What kind?" asked Jerry. "You watch," replied Chunky. "You'll see some fun." Now it happened that the professor had among his collection of specimens several large stuffed snakes, for he was an expert taxidermist. There were also several horned toads and big lizards. Bob got several of the ugliest ones and, with the aid of the scientist, who entered into the plan to pay a well deserved lesson to the miner, arranged the things about the sleeper, on the bench and on the floor of the porch. By this time most of the crowd at the hotel was aware what was going on, and, as few of them had any too much love for Simmons they waited the outcome with interest. When the reptiles were placed in a circle about the sleeping miner, one of the men fired his revolver in the air. At the sound Simmons awoke. At first he did not notice the reptiles, as he was on his back, staring up at the sky. Then he suddenly sat up, and caught a glimpse of the ugly looking things. For a moment he seemed to be in doubt as to what he beheld. Then he let out a yell that could have been heard almost a half mile. "Wow!" he cried. "Take 'em away. I'll never drink another drop! Honest I won't! Oh! Oh! the horrible snakes! I'll shut my eyes so I can't see 'em!" But when he opened them again the reptiles were still there. "Oh! Oh! I see 'em still!" he yelled. "Take 'em away, somebody, please do. Oh I forgot! They ain't real! I only imagine I see 'em!" He got up on the bench and was dancing about in terror. Then he drew his revolver, and was about to fire into the midst of the snakes. "He'll ruin my specimens!" cried the professor. One of the men ran forward, and began collecting the reptiles. Simmons saw them being gathered up, and noticed that they were not wiggling. Then the truth of it dawned on him, and he knew he had been fooled. His companions laughed loud and long. But Simmons, unable to stand the jokes and jibes he knew would be poked at him, leaped over the porch railing and ran down the road as fast as he could go. "Serves him right!" was the general verdict. Chapter XV. - The Story of Lost Lake (127-134) animal risk weapon CHAPTER XV THE STORY OF LOST LAKE The trick Bob had played seemed to be much appreciated among the crowd of miners and herdsmen who were gathered at the hotel. They laughed loud and long over the sight Simmons had presented. "I guess he'll know better than to fool with the next lad that comes along in one of them choo-choo wagons," was the hotel proprietor's comment. Bob gathered up the specimens that belonged to the professor and they were put in the car, together with a fresh supply of provisions that were purchased at the village store. pleasure pedestrian animal car equipment "I guess we'll be traveling," suggested the professor. The boys agreed with him, for though they knew the pleasures of sleeping beneath a roof, yet the character of the men who stayed at the hotel was so rough that they feared further rows. So, in spite of the entreaties of the hotel keeper they started off, having inquired the best roads to take. navigation risk rural Through the afternoon they bowled over a well elevated table land. The air was fine and bracing. Off in the distance to the west could be seen the first ranges of the big mountains. "That's where our mine is," said Jerry, his eyes shining. "Maybe it isn't ours after all," put in Bob. "Now there you go, Chunky. What do you want to call up unpleasant subjects for?" asked Ned reproachfully. "Anyhow it's our mine until some one takes it away from us, and I guess they'll have quite a fight, with Nestor on guard." topography pleasure mountain The others thought so too. Jerry, who was steering, was sending the auto forward at a fast clip, when the professor, who always had his eyes open called out: "What's that just ahead of us? Looks like a bear." "Where?" asked Ned. "Right in line with that big rock," went on the scientist, who had very good eyes and could see a long distance. "It's only a tree stump," spoke Bob. "I didn't know tree stumps could move," went on Mr. Snodgrass, "for this one is certainly coming toward us. It's not a bear after all," he continued, now that the object was nearer. "It's a bull! That's what it is! It looks as if it meant to go for us!" driver speed vision animal The boys could now see that the beast was one of the big, long-horned western cattle. It had evidently strayed from the herd, or had been made an outcast because of a bad temper and a perpetual desire to fight. The latter seemed more likely, for, as the auto proceeded, and the bull came on, lessening the distance between the two, a defiant bellow of rage sounded. "I hope he don't try to ram us," spoke Jerry. "We don't want any more collisions." "See if you can't run away from him," suggested Ned. animal risk car speed By this time the bull was about one hundred yards away. It was coming straight for the auto. Jerry opened the muffler and at the sound of the explosions the bull stopped short. At this point the road ran in a sort of depression, with hills rising on either side. It was rather narrow, so there was no chance to turn to one side. Jerry had to bring the machine to a stop or else run the risk of hitting the bull. He thought the animal might run away if it saw the machine coming toward him, but there was nothing sure about this. animal risk car part sound topography "Well, this is a regular hold-up," said the professor. "I wonder whether the bull wants to collect toll?" The animal seemed to be growing angrier and angrier every minute. It bellowed loudly, pawed the earth with its hoofs, and shook the lowered head, armed with sharp horns. Occasionally the keen points would tear up the ground. "I wouldn't want him to strike one of our tires," remarked Ned. "It would be all up with it." "Hurrah! I have it!" cried Bob at length. He dove beneath the rear seat and pulled up a shining object. "The ammonia squirt gun!" he exclaimed. "The same we used on the hold-up tramps. Give the bull a dose of it!" "Good idea," commented Jerry. animal risk sound car part equipment weapon The bulb of the automatic pistol was still filled with the fiery liquid, for the boys kept it loaded in readiness for use. Bob handed it over to Jerry. The latter took careful aim, and pressed the rubber. A fine stream of the powerful stuff struck the bull full in the face. With a bellow that fairly shook the ground near-by the bull reared up in the air, and coming down on all fours snorted with rage, shook its head to rid its eyes of the terrible burning, and then dashed madly away. equipment weapon animal risk "Now I guess we can get past," remarked Bob, "and get some supper. I'm as hungry as a bear." A good fire was soon started and Ned began to prepare the meal. While the others were setting out the dishes, or getting ready for the night camp, since it seemed there was no place for shelter in the neighborhood, the travelers were startled by a voice: "Evenin' strangers," called a tall, thin man who strolled down the slight hill at the foot of which the party were encamped. "Have you got a bite to spare?" "Plenty," replied the professor cheerfully. "Come right along. Supper will be ready in a little while. Are you hungry?" "Hungry? I should say so. I haven't had a bit to eat for two days, except what berries and old nuts I could gather." "What's the matter? Get lost?" asked Jerry. "Exactly," replied the stranger. "My name's Johnson," he went on. "I was prospecting up in the hills, and got lost there." "Anybody with you?" asked Ned. "Nary a soul; I'm all alone. I used up the last of my grub in trying to find the trail, and I guess I'd been looking for it yet if I hadn't heard the noise of your steam engine here, and smelled the cooking. I s'pose you're huntin' for it, same as me." "Hunting for what?" asked the professor, struck by Johnson's manner. "Why Lost Lake, to be sure. Nobody comes out this far unless they're huntin' for the lake, but you're the first to come in a steam car without rails." "Well, it's a free country," remarked the scientist, wishing to evade giving a direct answer, in the hope of learning something. "I guess we have a right to hunt for the lake." "Of course, of course you have, strangers," went on Johnson. "No offense. Have you struck a trace of it yet?" "Not yet," replied Mr. Snodgrass. "To tell you the truth," the professor went on, "we don't know much about this lost lake." "Nor no one else," said Johnson. "I'll tell you all I know, which isn't much. I've been looking for it 'most a year now." "Suppose we have supper first," suggested the professor as he noted the eyes Johnson was casting at the food. "We can talk afterward." "That's the best word I've heard in a good while," said the newcomer. He ate with a rapidity that left no doubt about his hunger. Nor were the others far behind him, as the crisp air of the mountain region had given them all famous appetites. "Now for Lost Lake," spoke Jerry when all had their fill. "It's supposed to be in those mountains over there," began Johnson, pointing to the range off in the west, now dimly discernible in the dusk. "It's said to be a beautiful sheet of water, with high peaks all around it. It was discovered forty years ago by a prospector, and he came to the nearest village with the news. But when he went to lead a party back they couldn't find the trail. Ever since then people have tried to find Lost Lake, but no one has ever succeeded. Many have been killed trying." "But why does any one want to find a lake hidden in the mountains?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "Yes, tell us?" asked Ned. "Why, for the gold on its banks, of course," said Johnson. "Didn't I say that? I meant to. The man who discovered it said there were pebbles of gold on the shores. He brought back a pocket full to prove it. I got the fever quite a few months ago, but nothing has come of all my efforts, and this time I nearly died. It was terrible up in the mountains. There's not a soul there I believe." "And you didn't even get a glimpse of the lake?" asked Ned. "Nary a look, young man. But I'm sure it's there. I'm going back to town, get a new outfit and some provisions, and have another try." He was another example of how the gold fever grips one. "Maybe we'll come across the lake, though we're not looking for it," said Jerry. "Maybe you will," assented the prospector. "That's generally the way. The first man was not hunting for it, but he came upon it one night when the moon was shining. If you do find it, look out for the old hermit, that's all." Chapter XVI. - A Lonely Cabin (135-143) animal health risk CHAPTER XVI A LONELY CABIN "What hermit?" asked Jerry. "Why you haven't heard half the story of Lost Lake," went on Johnson. "There's supposed to be a sort of wild man who lives on the shores of the lake, and he murders travelers. At least that's the yarn they tell." "Was the hermit always there?" asked Ned. "No, only the last few years," replied Johnson. "He is said to be an old man with white hair. But I don't believe that part. Let me find the lake and the gold, and I won't worry about hermits." The prospector camped with the travelers that night. They were all up early the next morning, and, at the professor's suggestion the boys gave Johnson plenty of provisions to last him until he could get back to civilization. "Maybe you would like to go along with us and look for the lake?" suggested Bob. "No, thank you," replied Johnson. "I'm afraid your chances of finding it are slimmer than mine are. I'll have another try all by myself. I'm much obliged for the help you've given me." Then, shouldering his pack, he started off down the trail, while the travelers, packing their things in the auto, set forward again. equipment car The boys talked about little save the story of Lost Lake, but the professor was too busy arranging his latest specimens to join in the conversation. "I'd like to find it and see the wild hermit," said Bob. "I don't s'pose you'd care anything about the gold," put in Ned. "Of course I would," replied Bob. "But we've got one gold mine now, what do we want of another?" "It might be well to have a second in case we lose the first," Jerry ventured. "Nothing like having plenty while you're at it." "I wouldn't like to be a hermit," went on Bob. "Think of always being hungry." "Chunky is thinking of misers, I guess," laughed Ned. "There's nothing to prevent a hermit from living off the fat of the land. If it wasn't for being lonesome I'd be a hermit for a while." "Stop the auto!" called the professor suddenly. "I just saw a fine specimen of a snapping turtle scoot across the road. I must have it. It's worth about twenty dollars to me. Stop the car! I must get out!" Ned, who was running the auto, shut off the power and the machine came to a stop. Before it had ceased to move Mr. Snodgrass had leaped out and was running back. He began a hurried but careful search over the ground. Then he was seen to spring forward. animal passenger driver parking "He's got it, I guess," remarked Jerry. An instant later there came a howl from the scientist, who was hidden from sight by the tall grass. "Help, boys! Help!" "What's the matter? Won't he let you catch him?" cried Ned. "He's caught me!" yelled the professor. "Come quick and bring a knife to cut his head off with!" The boys piled out of the auto in a hurry, Jerry stopping to grab up a big carving knife from the camp utensils. sound weapon risk equipment car When they came up to the professor they hardly knew whether to laugh or not. The turtle, which was a big one, had grabbed the scientist by the thumb, and was clinging so tightly that it was suspended in the air, swaying to and fro. Meanwhile Mr. Snodgrass was dancing about in pain. "Why don't you take hold of the turtle's shell in the other hand, and you won't feel the weight so much!" called Jerry. "I can't," replied the professor. "I have a rare specimen of a toad in my other hand, and I don't want to lose it. Oh boys! Hurry up, and pry the turtle's jaws open, but don't hurt him, for he's valuable." "Can't you put the toad in your pocket?" asked Ned, knowing the scientist had no scruples about loading his garments up with all sorts of things. "Then you would have one hand free." "I never thought of that," said Mr. Snodgrass. "I can do that, can't I?" He did so, and, once the toad was secure he took hold of the turtle, which relieved his lacerated thumb from the dragging weight. "He won't let go!" exclaimed the professor, after a vain attempt to pull the turtle loose. "It is a genuine snapper, and they have a grip like a bull dog. I am glad I found it, in spite of the pain," he added, though just then, the turtle took a fresh hold and the professor squirmed in agony. "Here; I'll cut its head off," said Jerry, coming forward with the knife. "No, no!" exclaimed the professor. "It is too valuable to spoil. Just take the point of the blade, and pry the jaws open while I hold it steady." Jerry tried to do this, but the turtle only seemed to grip the tighter, and the professor's thumb was bitten through nearly to the bone. "What shall I do?" wailed Mr. Snodgrass. "I don't want to kill it." "I have it!" exclaimed Ned. "There's a little puddle of water over there beside the road. Dip the turtle in it, and he'll think he can swim. Then he'll let go." "Good!" cried the professor as he proceeded to put the plan in operation. "Then I can save him alive." The scheme worked well. As soon as the turtle felt the water it let go, and started to swim off. But the puddle was too shallow, and the professor, watching his chance, grabbed the reptile again. This time he took care to catch it at the middle of the shell, where the turtle could not reach around and bite. "I have it, after all," remarked the scientist as he deposited his prize in a box, and proceeded to put some salve and a rag on his thumb. "It's a rare specimen. I'm glad I got it." "And we're all glad we didn't get it," spoke Jerry with a laugh in which the others joined. But the professor took it good naturedly. He was used to such accidents he said. Resuming their journey, the travelers made only one more stop, that at noon, to get dinner. They had seen no signs of human habitation, and, as the afternoon wore on, and no house or cabin was seen, they began to feel that they might as well prepare to camp out again. As they were descending a gentle, sloping hill that led down into a small valley, just as the sun was setting, they saw, about a mile ahead a lonely cabin. The sight of smoke coming from the chimney told them there was some one at home. navigation scenery topography "I hope whoever lives there can accommodate us," remarked Chunky. "My appetite's getting the upper hand of me again." "It don't look large enough to hold us all," observed Jerry. "There's a barn, or some sort of building, in the rear," remarked Ned. "Some of us can use that if the man or woman lets us." A few minutes later the auto came to a stop in front of the cabin, which was indeed a lonely one, not another dwelling, large or small, showing in the whole valley. "Good evening," greeted an old man, with snow-white hair falling over his shoulders. He came to the door of the shack, and seemed to regard the coming travelers as a matter of course. "I am glad to see you," he went on. "You are just in time." "Time for what?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "For the great final and successful experiment," proceeded the aged man. "The test is about to begin. Come in and see me make gold from common earth. At last I have found the long-lost secret!" parking scenery The eyes of the lonely man glowed with a strange light, and he seemed so excited that the boys did not know what to do. "Humor him," advised the professor in a whisper. "He is probably a harmless lunatic. Let him have his way, and pretend to agree with all he says." "Will you come in?" went on the old man. "I must proceed with my work." "We'll be glad to," went on the scientist. "That is, if we will not disturb you at your labors." "My labors are now ended," the man said. "I have worked for twenty years on the secret of making gold from the baser metals. At last I have the correct method. I will be a millionaire in another month. But come in! Come in!" The boys, obeying Mr. Snodgrass's advice, went in, the scientist following them. They saw that the cabin, though small, was neat and clean. Nearly all of the first of two rooms was occupied by a large, rudely made furnace, while on a table near it stood all sorts of chemical apparatus. On the furnace a pot was boiling furiously. "Now for the last act in the drama of life," said the aged man. "See, I place in the pot these pieces of brass," and he showed the travelers some chunks of the yellow stuff. He put them in the pot, from which arose a cloud of steam. "Next I throw in this powder, which I have labored on for years. It is the secret that men would give their lives for." He threw the powder into the pot, which boiled more furiously than before, and a white cloud of steam arose. Then it died away, and the pot seemed to cool off. "Now for the gold!" exclaimed the chemist. He lifted the pot from the furnace, and, holding it with some thick cloths poured the water off into a hole in the ground floor of the cabin. Out toppled the pieces of brass which had been thrown in, but while they had been dull before, they now glittered with the yellow gleam of gold. "The test! The test!" exclaimed the old man in a voice that trembled with eagerness. He placed one of the yellow pieces on the table, and put a few drops of gold-testing acid on it. There was a little hissing sound, and then, on the shiny surface of the piece of metal there came a dull black spot. The old man uttered a despairing cry. "Another failure!" he exclaimed. "It is brass still. I thought it would turn to gold! I must have made a mistake in mixing the powder." Chapter XVII. - The Indian and the Auto (144-151) Native American animal speed skill CHAPTER XVII THE INDIAN AND THE AUTO For a few moments the scientist who hoped he had discovered the fabled power to transmute metals stared at the result of his latest trial. He appeared lost in thought. Then he seemed to recollect that there were strangers present. "I am sorry my experiment did not succeed," he said in a more quiet voice than he had yet used. "I hoped to show you what I can do. Well, I must try again. I think I know where I made the error. I had too much soda in the powder. I will use less next time." "We are sorry to interrupt your experiments," put in the professor, "but we are travelers, and our object in stopping here was to find out if you could take us in for the night." "Gladly," replied the old man. "There is a barn in the rear, but it has not been occupied in years; not since I came here. You are welcome to use that. Some of you can spend the night in the rear room. As for me I shall not go to bed. I must start at once and make up some fresh powders." "I think perhaps we had all better sleep in the barn," said the professor. "Then we will not disturb you at your labors." The truth of it was Mr. Snodgrass saw that the aged man was not altogether right in his head, and he preferred not to be too near in case the fellow should suddenly become violent. "Just as you like, just as you like," was the reply to the professor's decision, and the chemist seemed to be dreaming over some problem he was trying to solve. "May we cook some of our food on your stove?" asked Jerry. "Why certainly. I beg your pardon for not mentioning supper," spoke the man, "but you see I am so used to getting a bite whenever I need it, so as not to interrupt my work, that I forgot there is such a thing as hospitality. Make yourselves at home, and, if you find anything in the cupboards help yourselves. Meanwhile please excuse me if I do not join you. I must go out and gather some roots and herbs I need in my experiments." He left the cabin, and, after bringing in some provisions from the auto, having first ascertained that there were few in the cabin, the travelers proceeded to make a meal. "Do you suppose he can be the hermit of Lost Lake?" asked Bob. "Well, he's certainly a hermit," spoke the professor, "but I don't believe there's a lake of any kind about here. Certainly if he was the hermit of the lake he would not be away off here. No, I am inclined to think we shall never see the lost lake or the hermit either." equipment car lake "Do you think it will be safe to stay here all night?" inquired Chunky. "I think so," was the professor's reply. "You see we will be out in another building, and we can fasten the door. If he tries to get in, which I am sure he will not, he will make noise enough to awaken us." "We could mount guard," suggested Ned. "It will not be necessary," Mr. Snodgrass said. Nor did the travelers find it so. After their meal, having left a good supply of victuals for the old man in case he came back, they retired to the rear building where they slept soundly. After breakfast, which the old man did not spend more than five minutes over, the travelers prepared to resume their trip. "You had better stay one more night," urged the owner of the cabin. "I feel sure that I shall be successful to-night. I have discovered a new root. See, I call it gold threads," and he held up some bulbs that had been dug from the ground. Clinging to them were small yellow fibres or roots. "I found them last night, down in the hollow by the mineral spring," the man went on. "I am sure they are just what I need. Please stay; won't you?" But the professor told him, as gently as possible, that they must keep on. So, after bidding the gold-seeker good bye, and wishing him success, the boys and Mr. Snodgrass proceeded, the auto puffing along at a good rate. The weather continued fine and the air was bracing and cool, for they were well up among the foothills now. During the morning the road led up a gentle slope, but at noon they camped on a sort of ridge that marked the divide. On the other side was a vast plain, bounded at the further side by tall mountains. speed mountain navigatio plains topography scenery It was well along in the afternoon, when having descended to the plain, the travelers found themselves bowling along a fine road, on either side of which were rolling fields. Mile after mile was covered, everyone enjoying the trip very much. The professor, however, was beginning to show signs of uneasiness. He fidgeted about in his seat, and seemed unable to remain quiet. "What's the matter?" asked Bob at length. "To tell you the truth," said the scientist, "I want to get out and get some specimens, but I did not like to ask you, for I do not want to delay the party." plains road condition agriculture navigation pleasure They all voted that the professor should be given a chance to get as many specimens as he wanted. Accordingly Jerry brought the car to a stop, and the boys and the scientist got out. As the engine had not been running as smoothly as was desirable Jerry did not shut off the power, merely throwing out the gear clutches. He said he wanted to have the cylinders warm up, and so the engine was left going, though the car itself stood still. parking engine maintenance car part skill The professor was soon busy gathering insects of various kinds from the tall grass, and even crawling on his hands and knees over the ground. The boys walked some distance off, to stretch their legs, for they were a little tired of sitting still so long. Suddenly Bob, who happened to glance back toward the auto, uttered a cry. "Look!" he shouted. "Some one is stealing our car and going off in it!" animal risk car The others looked. The sight that met their eyes was enough to astonish any one. Climbing into the automobile was a big Indian, attired in gay colored blankets, a rifle slung across his back, while near him stood a Pinto pony, clean-cut and wiry. While they watched they saw the red man seat himself comfortably at the steering wheel, reach forward to throw the gear clutch in place, and then the car moved off, taking the Indian with it. Native American weapon animal car part skill driver "Here! Come back!" "Stop that auto!" "Get out of that!" These were some of the things the boys yelled at the bold thief. But all of no avail. The Indian threw in the second gear, and the auto went faster than before. Native American skill car part speed "Come on! We must catch him!" cried Jerry, and he began to run in the direction the auto was fast disappearing in, down the road. "We can never catch him," called Bob. "Yes we can! He can't know anything about running an auto!" panted Jerry. "He'll put on the brake or pull the wrong lever next, and the machine will stop!" "That is unless he blows it up first or smashes it," said Bob. speed risk Native American skill "What's the matter?" asked Mr. Snodgrass, appearing at this juncture. Bob was the only one left to tell him, as Jerry and Ned were running down the road at top speed. But it seemed that their race would be useless, for the auto was now running on third gear. And, strangest of all, the Indian seemed to know how to operate it. He kept a straight course, and the puffing of the exhaust told Jerry that the engine was running to perfection, with a good supply of gasolene, and the spark coming regularly. speed risk skill Native American navigation engine gasoline [Illustration: THE INDIAN SEEMED TO KNOW HOW TO OPERATE IT.] "Who—ever—heard—of—an—Indian running—an—auto," panted Ned. "Running—away—with—one—you—mean," said Jerry, his breathing labored. Further and further away from the pursuing boys the auto went. It seemed hopeless to keep after it, but neither Jerry nor Ned would give up. They realized what it meant to lose their machine, though they could not understand how an Indian, in all his wild regalia, would think of getting into an auto. Suddenly there sounded down the road the patter of hoof beats. speed Native American risk sound "Maybe that's more Indians," said Jerry turning around and slowing up in his running. "No," he added, "it's Bob on the Indian's pony. I wonder you or I didn't think of that." "He couldn't catch up with the auto if he had two ponies," growled Ned. "The only chance is that the gasolene may give out, or the sparker refuse to work, or that he may run into a sand bank," lamented Jerry. "And there don't seem to be much chance of either taking place right off," put in Ned. "Hark! What's that?" From down the road sounded the Toot! Toot! of the auto horn. "It sounds as if he was coming back," said Jerry. Just then Bob caught up to them on the pony. Native American animal gasoline car part sound onomatopoeia Chapter XVIII. - Lost Lake Found (152-160) Native American skill night accident CHAPTER XVIII LOST LAKE FOUND "Let me past! I'll catch him!" cried Bob. "Wait a minute! Maybe that's him coming back?" replied Jerry. Sure enough the next instant the auto, which had been lost to sight by reason of a turn in the road, came into view. Straight up the highway it came, the figure of the Indian, wrapped in his blanket, with his headdress of feathers, an altogether brilliant figure, seated at the wheel; a strange enough combination as any one will admit. speed car visibility navigation Native American highway The red man acted as though he had been used to running autos all his life. He sat straight as an arrow, his hands grasping the wheel, which was sending the car straight for the boys. "He's just doing this to taunt us!" exclaimed Jerry. "I have a good notion to take a shot at one of the tires with my revolver and scare him into stopping." "Don't do it! You might kill him," said Ned, "and you wouldn't want to do that. But what does he mean by stealing the car, and then bringing it back?" Native American skill car part risk driver A few seconds later the auto drew up in front of the boys, who had come to a halt. With an ease that bespoke long experience the Indian brought the machine to a stop, and then, while the lads looked on, so full of wonder at the whole occurrence that they did not know what to say, the red man grunted: "Heap fine wagon. Ugh! Indian like um, he buy um! How much?" "Look here!" burst out Jerry, so angry that he hardly took note of what the red man had said. "Do you know you are a—" parking Native American skill Then a strange thing happened. Wrapping his blankets closely about him, and drawing himself up to his full height of over six feet, the Indian said calmly: "I really beg your pardon for the unwarranted liberty I took with your car, but when I saw it standing out here, so far from civilization, I could not resist the temptation to take a ride. I trust you will overlook it." For a moment the boys were speechless, for the Indian they had supposed one from the half-wild plain tribes, and whose every appearance indicated that, had spoken in English as cultured as that of a college professor. Native American car class "What—why—when—where?" stammered Jerry, and the Indian burst into a laugh. "I see I must explain," he said. "I am not what I seem." "Aren't you an Indian?" asked Ned. "A full blooded one, and the chief of a tribe," spoke the red man. "But I am not the half dime library sort. "You see," he went on, "I have just come back from the school at Carlisle, where I am taking a post graduate course. I felt a sudden longing to don the dress of my ancestors, and roam the broad fields. I did so, starting from my home on the reservation this morning. I came along and saw the auto. As I said, the temptation was too strong to resist. I got in and took a little spin, as you saw. I am sorry if I caused you annoyance, or made you fear your machine had been stolen." The eyes of the Indian twinkled and, beneath the paint on his face, the boys could see a smile coming. Native American pleasure class car "But how in the world did you learn to run a car?" asked Jerry. "Easy enough," was the answer. "I acted as chauffeur for several months this vacation to earn money enough to continue my studies. I got to be quite an expert. That is a fine car you have." "Well I'm stumped!" exclaimed Bob. "How do you like my pony?" asked the red man. "I think we made a sort of unfair exchange, though, in spite of the fact that the animal is valuable. Now let me apologize once more, and then I will take my animal and go home." "You are welcome to the ride," said Jerry. "We were so surprised at first that we took you for a thief." "I don't blame you," spoke the Indian. "The sight of a red man in an automobile is enough to make any one wonder. Well, heap big chief, Whistling Wind in the Pine, must go." "Is that your name?" asked Ned. "It's my Indian one," was the answer, "but at the school I am known as Paul Rader. Now let me bid you good day, and a pleasant journey." Native American skill animal class Then, before they could ask him to take a ride with them, the boys saw the Indian leap on his pony, from which Bob had dismounted, and ride away at a smart gallop, his blanket flying out behind him in the wind. "Well, that's the limit!" exclaimed Ned. "To think of a wild-civilized Indian playing a trick like that." "I certainly thought he was as wild as they come," put in Bob. "I was afraid it was all up with us." Then the professor appeared and they told him the story. "I wish I had met him," said the professor. "What for; did you know him?" asked Jerry. "No, but he would probably be able to tell me where to get some fine specimens," remarked the scientist. In a short time they were all in the auto again, and were bowling along over the table land, the machine humming in a way that told that the cylinders were working well. They camped for supper, and then, as it was a fine moon light night they determined to continue on slowly, as they wanted to make up for lost time. The moon rose early, a big silver disk shining among the trees, when the autoists started on their night journey. "This is great!" exclaimed Bob, who seemed to have forgotten his desire for a bed under shelter. "Wouldn't it be fun to have a lot of Indians chase us now?" "It might if they were tame ones," put in Jerry, who was steering, "but excuse me from any wild ones." car scenery speed night slowness driver passenger The road soon began a gentle ascent, and the auto ran more slowly up the hill. The road, too, became narrower, winding in and out. The trees, which had been scattering, were thicker, and the travelers could see they were getting well up among the mountains. "How late are you going to travel?" asked Bob of Jerry. "Until nearly midnight," was the answer. "The moon begins to go down then and it will not be very safe. But I think we ought to cover as big a distance as possible while we can. We have had delays enough." topography slowness road condition tree mountain night safety The only noise, besides the puffing of the machine, were the cries of owls, the chirping of crickets and katy-dids, with, now and then, the howl of a wolf or fox. In spite of the number in the party, there was a feeling of loneliness about being so far from civilization among the wilds of the mountain region. Up and up went the car, until the ascent became so steep that Jerry was obliged to run on the low gear. This made progress slow, and, because of the uneven road, so risky, that it seemed unwise to proceed further that night. "I'll slow up when we get to the top of this hill," said Jerry, "and we'll go into camp." sound animal night mountain scenery car part slowness road condition risk But he reckoned without knowing what sort of a hill it was, nor did he calculate on the auto failing to stop as soon as he expected. For that was what happened. Reaching the summit of the slope Jerry shut off the power. But something went wrong with the mechanism. The auto continued on, slowly to be sure, but with enough momentum to send it over the brow of the hill. Then it plunged down on the other side, gathering speed every minute. "Is she running away?" asked Ned. "Seems so to me." "She's not behaving as well as she should," replied Jerry, "but I have her under control. The brake is working all right," which fact he soon ascertained. mountain accident slowness risk car part speed Faster and faster, however, in spite of the brake, did the auto plunge down the slope. Jerry kept his head, however, and was working to bring the machine to a halt. All at once Bob, looking up, saw where the road made a sudden turn to the left. "Look out for that!" he cried, pointing. Jerry tried to make the turn, but the steering wheel suddenly became a little stiff, so that, instead of the car being turned to the left, and around the bend, it kept straight on. speed risk topography accident There was a crackling of brush and tree branches, and the big machine left the road and began plowing up the side of a slope, around the lower edge of which the road wound. "Duck!" cried Ned, as a tree branch hit him in the face. They all did so, and the next instant the big machine crashed through some briars, bending down several saplings in its journey. Then, having exhausted the momentum, the auto came to a stop, at the summit of the little slope, and Jerry jammed on the brakes to hold it there, the band this time gripping the axle firmly. tree accident speed car part road "Look! Oh look!" cried Ned, pointing ahead and down below them. There, in a sort of basin formed by high hills, lay a body of water, sparkling and beautiful in the moonlight, the shadows of tall black mountains reflected in its calm surface. "It's Lost Lake!" exclaimed Jerry, softly. "Boys! We have found Lost Lake! I am sure of it!" For a few seconds no one spoke after that, for they were all lost in wonder at the beauty and strangeness of the sight. It was so quiet that it seemed almost as if it was but a picture painted by a master's hand. Suddenly Bob, who was staring intently at the upper end of the lake, grasped Ned by the arm. "See," he whispered. "What's that? That thing in white?" Chapter XIX. - The Ghost of the Lake (161-168) night lake visibility CHAPTER XIX THE GHOST OF THE LAKE They all looked to where Bob pointed. At first they could make out nothing, but Bob insisted that he had seen some tall, white object moving. "It was just like the description of ghosts," he said, with a queer little laugh. "I see it," said Jerry, softly. "Right by the big white birch." "Sure enough," remarked the professor. Then they all beheld a tall white form in the pale moonlight, gliding from tree to tree, on the shore of the lake. visibility tree "Look, it is picking up something from the shore," said Ned. "Maybe it's the hermit the miner told us about, gathering gold." "Nonsense," said Jerry. "It's probably a bit of fog, or it may be a white fox, or a wolf." "No fox or wolf is as big as that," insisted Ned. "I'll bet it's the hermit." "Whatever it is, it's gone now," put in Bob. And, sure enough, the object suddenly disappeared among the trees, and there was nothing in sight but the lake, the mountains and the moonlight. "Well, we seem to have stumbled onto the lake," remarked Jerry. "If the auto had not misbehaved we would have taken the regular road, and Lost Lake would still be lost. As it is we have found it." "I hope we find some of the gold, as well," put in Ned. "We may need the yellow pebbles if our mine is gone." "Whatever we do, we shall stay here until morning," said Jerry. "It will be a good place to camp, anyhow, gold or no gold." So they all busied themselves in preparing to stay there for the rest of the night. A fire was built and a midnight supper was soon in preparation. They had good appetites, and, tired with the day's journey and events, they got out their blankets and slept soundly. By daylight the lake was seen to be a large sheet of water, rather irregular in outline, with many small bays and coves. Shimmering in the sunlight the water made a beautiful picture. "Here goes to see if there are any golden pebbles on the shore," remarked Bob, with a whoop as soon as he had crawled from the improvised bed. He did not have to stop and dress for the travelers slept in their clothes. Chunky climbed down the slope, along a rather rough path to the water. Some time later Jerry and Ned were about to follow, when they heard Bob yelling at the top of his voice. "What's the matter?" called Jerry. "Have you found the gold?" cried Ned. "Maybe the hermit has attacked him," suggested the professor. They all ran to the water's edge. When they reached the shore Bob was nowhere in sight. "Hi, Bob! Where are you?" cried Jerry looking around. "Here!" exclaimed Chunky, suddenly, bobbing up from beneath the little waves about one hundred feet from shore. "Did you fall in?" asked the professor, anxiously. "No, I jumped in," replied the boy. "I'm in swimming. Come on in, the water's fine!" "Good for you!" called Ned and the next instant he was undressed and splashing out toward Bob. Jerry soon joined them, and even the professor took a dip. The water was somewhat cool, but after they were once in it was invigorating, and they swam about for half an hour, greatly enjoying the luxury of a bath. "Hark! What was that?" asked Ned, suddenly. There came a whirring of wings and a rustling of the leaves of the bushes off to the left. Then a bevy of birds sailed through the air. "Partridge, or some similar bird, I would say," was the professor's opinion. "And there goes a big rabbit!" cried Bob. "Yes, and there's another!" exclaimed Jerry. "Say, we have struck a game country if we haven't a gold one. I say, what's the matter with having a hunt?" "Good!" cried Bob and Ned. "I think it would do no harm to replenish the larder with something fresh," remarked the professor. Accordingly, after breakfast, guns were gotten ready and the boys and the professor tramped off through the woods, taking care not to go too far from the lake, as the trees were thick, and, as there were no trails blazed, it would be easy to get lost. Ned bagged the first partridge, and Bob came second, getting two in succession. Jerry had hard luck, for twice he missed easy shots. A little later, however, he bowled over a plump rabbit, and followed it up with a second. Then Ned got one, and Jerry succeeded in bagging a couple of fine birds. Some of the game was served for dinner, which was eaten by a campfire, and very fine it was voted. Then some was packed away in salt, against a possible time when provisions might be hard to get. "What do you say, shall we stay here another night or push on?" asked Jerry, about the middle of the afternoon. "If you ask me," said the professor, "I should say to remain here. I saw a number of fine and rare specimens I would like to gather." "The only thing is, perhaps we had better join Nestor as soon as possible," remarked Ned. "I think a few days' delay can do no harm," Mr. Snodgrass said. "From the tone of Nestor's letter I would say there was no immediate danger of the mine being claimed by others." "Then we'll stay," said Jerry. "I would like to investigate the lake a little more. We did not go very far along the shore. Perhaps there might be an outcropping of gold somewhere around this locality." "And maybe we will see the hermit, or the ghost, or whatever it is," added Ned. "Let's stay." "Then we ought to rig up some kind of shelter," went on Jerry. "It may rain in the night, and it's not the most pleasant thing in the world to sleep in a mud puddle." "We can build a shack of boughs," said Bob. And this they did. They had often done the same thing before. Branches from a pine tree, stacked up against a sapling cut to fit between the crotches of two trees, with the same sort of boughs for a roof and floor, made a very good shelter. Rubber blankets on top insured the rain being kept out, and with woolen coverings for inside, beds were made that were very comfortable. When these preparations had been made it was growing dusk. While Bob and Ned were getting supper, and the professor was busy arranging his specimens gathered that day, Jerry removed one of the big search-lights from the auto. "What are doing that for?" asked Bob. "I'm going to try and find out what that white thing is," said Jerry. "I'm going to rig up a lantern in front of the shack, facing the lake, and if the hermit or whatever it is, shows up, I'm going to flash the light on it." "Maybe it won't come to-night," suggested Bob. car part technology equipment But it did. It was along about midnight when Ned felt a light touch on his arm. "What's the matter?" he asked, sitting up. "Come on," whispered Jerry. "I see something down by the lake, and I want to investigate. Be careful, don't make any noise." Bob and the professor were both sleeping so soundly that they did not hear Jerry and Ned leave the shack. "Where is it?" asked Ned. "There," replied Jerry, pointing to a spot about three hundred feet away, and on the shore of the lake. "It was there a minute ago, but it's gone now. Watch, it will come back." He busied himself over the search-light, making ready to light it quickly and flash the beams on the ghost or hermit, or whatever it should prove to be. "There it is!" called Ned, in a hoarse whisper. "Right by that big rock that runs out into the water." "I see!" said Jerry, softly. There was a hissing sound as Jerry turned on the acetylene gas, a snapping sound as he lit the match, and then a slight puff as the vapor ignited. The next instant a glaring shaft of light shot down toward the lake, glint on a strange object. equipment visibility night There in the glare of the white beams stood the figure of an old man. His hair was snow white, and hung down long over his shoulders. He seemed bent with age, and this was made more pronounced because he bore a heavy bag on his back. He was right at the edge of the water. The sudden glare had startled him, and he turned in surprise and fear to see whence it came. His face stood out in strong relief, and Jerry started, for he dimly remembered seeing some one who looked like that some time before. Then, all at once the stillness of the night was broken by a shrill scream. Ned and Jerry were startled, and Bob and the professor, in the shack, were awakened. Chapter XX. - The Mysterious Woman (169-174) lake rain night CHAPTER XX THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN "Look!" exclaimed Ned. Then, as he and Jerry watched what took place in the circle of light, they beheld a woman, her long hair streaming down her back, run from the woods up to the old man. In her hand she held a big club, and with it she endeavored to strike the aged man. The latter dropped his sack, and seemed to engage in a struggle with the woman. "He's killing her!" exclaimed Ned. "This is the hermit we were warned against." "Come on!" cried Jerry. "We must see what it means." But, just as he started down the slope, the search-light went out, leaving the place in utter blackness, for the moon was under a cloud. When Jerry had succeeded in getting the light going again, the man and woman were nowhere to be seen. "Well, that certainly was a queer sight," remarked Ned. "I wonder what it all means?" "I guess we'll have to stay here until we find out," said Jerry. "It looked as if there was going to be trouble, at one time." "What's all the excitement about?" asked the professor, coming out of the shack, followed by Bob. Jerry related what they had seen, and the professor agreed that it would be better to remain and make an investigation. "I say, you fellows are mean to go off alone and have a cracking adventure like that," objected Bob, in a grieved tone. "We didn't want to disturb your slumbers," said Ned. "Don't eat so much supper next time, and you will not sleep so sound," advised Jerry. But Bob was not to be appeased until promised that the next time Ned and Jerry went ghost hunting they would take him with them. Having been so thoroughly aroused from their sleep the travelers decided to sit up a while and see if they could catch another glimpse of the strange man and woman. But, though they sat and talked for more than an hour, there was no further sign of the two queer creatures. "I'm going to bed," announced Bob at length, and the others decided to follow his example. They slept soundly until morning, though Jerry said afterward that he dreamed he was being chased across the frozen lake by a white haired man on a black horse. He got stuck in the ice, and was freezing to death, when he awakened to find that his blanket had slipped from him, and that a cold rain was blowing in through the cracks of the shack. Morning had dawned cold and dreary. "Wow! This isn't exactly pleasant!" exclaimed Jerry, as he poked his head out of the front of the screen of branches. "I wish there was a hotel handy." The others crawled from beneath the blankets, not in any too good humor at the dismal prospect. "And I'll bet there isn't any dry wood to be had," said Bob. "That means a cold breakfast." A search proved that he was right. Nor was there any charcoal, since the last had been used some days before, and they had been to no place where they could get more. "Just when a fellow needs a hot cup of coffee," went on Bob. "I never saw such beastly luck." Jerry said nothing. He seemed to be studying over some matter. "I have it," he exclaimed. "What? Some dry wood?" asked Ned with much eagerness. "No, but I know how to make some hot coffee," was the answer. Jerry lost no time in explaining. He first went to the auto where he got out rubber coats for himself and his companions. Then, ready to defy the rain, which was coming down at a good clip, Jerry hunted about until he found two large stones. These he set up a short distance apart, placing another each at the front and rear of the first two. "There's the stove," he remarked. "A heap of good it will do, with no fire in it," growled Bob. "Wait," advised Jerry. Taking the big search-light, which he had used the night previous, he removed the top, so that the flame could be used for cooking purposes. They prepared a good meal and enjoyed it. car equipment rain It continued to rain, and to fill in time the boys went fishing in the lake. Luck was with them and within half an hour they had ten fine fish, and then, though they could have taken many more, they did not, as Jerry said they would have no use for them. "Fish for dinner for me to-day," said Bob, while the others laughed at his usual exhibition of how fond of eating he was. The fish did prove an excellent dish, fried in corn meal on Jerry's improvised stove. Some bacon gave them a relish, and with hot coffee they felt they had as good a meal as many a hotel could serve. "I wonder where the professor is?" said Ned, when the meal was almost over. "I forgot that he wasn't with us." "He's off gathering birds, bugs or reptiles," said Jerry. "He'll come when he feels good and hungry." "He's more likely to forget all about being hungry if he gets chasing a fine specimen," remarked Ned. "I think I'll just take a stroll and see if I can come across him." "We'll go along," said Jerry and Bob. So the three started off together. They could easily follow the professor's trail, as he had broken through the underbrush, snapping off many twigs and breaking small branches. The boys wandered on for nearly a mile, but saw no sign of the scientist. They were about to turn back, and wait for him at camp, when Jerry held up his hand to indicate silence. "Hark!" he whispered. The others stood still, and, listening intently, heard above the patter of the raindrops, voices in conversation. "That's the professor," said Ned. "Some one is with him then," put in Jerry. "They are coming this way." The sounds of persons advancing through the bushes could be heard. The voices also sounded plainer. A minute later the brush was parted and the professor, followed by a woman, came out into the little clearing where the boys were. At the sight of the woman, Jerry started, for he recognized her as the strange person who had been with the old man the night previous. The professor seemed excited about something. "Boys, this lady has just told me some strange news," he said. "What is it?" asked Ned. "Beware of the hermit of Lost Lake!" the woman exclaimed suddenly. "Have a care of him. Many poor travelers has he murdered. He would have murdered you last night if I had not prevented him." "So that's what it was all about," said Jerry, half aloud. The woman heard him, and turned: "Did you see him?" she asked. "Did you see me?" "I—we—" began Jerry. "You have been spying on me!" exclaimed the woman, growing much excited. Chapter XXI. - The Den of the Hermit (175-184) forest lake pleasure risk CHAPTER XXI THE DEN OF THE HERMIT "No, no!" said the professor calmly. "The boys were not spying. They happened to see a man and a woman on the shore of the lake last night, and they thought it might have been you." "It was me," said the woman. "I was trying to prevent him from coming and killing you all in your sleep." The boys began to feel a queer creepy sensation run up their spines, as if some one had poured cold water down their backs. "It's true," the strange creature went on. "I will tell you all about it. Listen to me," and she sat down on a stump. "Perhaps we had better go where there is shelter," suggested Jerry, for it was raining hard again, though the boys and the professor in their rubber coats did not mind it. The woman was drenched. "No," she said. "I can go to no place save these woods. I am safe from him here." She seemed nervous and excited, and her eyes seemed unnaturally bright. "The old man is a hermit," she went on. "He has lived near this lake for many years. He kills travelers and takes their money. He tried to kill me but I escaped from him because I can run fast. Since then he has been after me. Last night he started for your camp, but I got a big club and stopped him. Then he ran away." "What was in the bag?" asked Ned. "What bag?" asked the woman. "The one the old man had on his back?" "Hush! Don't speak about it," was the reply. "He had a murdered man's body in there, and he threw it into the lake." "Are you sure?" asked the professor, thinking the woman might, perhaps, be trying to scare them away. "Positive," she replied. "I saw him kill the poor fellow, but the hermit did not know I was watching." "Where does he live?" asked the professor. "He has a den in the darkest part of the woods," was the answer. "He takes travelers there and kills them. He does not know that I know where it is, but I do. Would you like to see it?" "Not if he is the kind of a person you say he is," spoke Jerry. "I think we had better steer clear of him." "I can take you there when he is not at home," said the woman. "Listen, once each week he takes a long trip over the mountain, to bury the gold he has taken from travelers. I can hide and watch him go. Then I could come and bring you to his den. Shall I?" "It might be a good plan," mused the professor. "If this man is a murderer he should be taken in charge by the authorities. Yes, come and let us know when he goes away. Perhaps we could capture him ourselves." "I'll come," said the woman. "Now I must go, for I hear some one coming," and, rising suddenly, she ran off at top speed through the woods. The boys listened intently but could hear no one approaching, and began to think the woman must have been mistaken. "Where did you meet her?" asked Jerry of the professor, when it was seen that the woman was not coming back. "She saw me while I was gathering some specimens," was the reply, "and she came up to warn me about the hermit. It seems that she lives not far away, and roams through the woods. Besides telling me about the old man, and to be on our guard against him, she showed me where to get some beautiful tree toads," and the scientist opened his pocket and showed it full of the little creatures. "Do you think she is telling the truth about the hermit?" asked Jerry. "There may be some exaggeration to it," rejoined the professor, "but I have heard of old half crazed men who lived in the woods as this one does, and who occasionally murdered lone travelers. We can't be too careful." "Besides, it did look as though she was trying to prevent him doing something last night," put in Jerry. "Well, we'll keep a good lookout," suggested the professor. "That's all we can do now, unless we decide to move on away from this place." "I would rather like to solve the mystery," said Jerry. "I do not think we have much to fear. He is an old man, and I guess we four are a match for him." "Then we had better do as the woman says, wait until she comes to lead us to his hut, or cabin, or whatever it is," the professor advised after a moment's thought. That plan settled on, they made their way back to camp and the professor was given his rather late dinner. But he did not seem to mind this in the least. "Are you going to keep watch again to-night?" asked Bob of Jerry. "Of course. I want to get at the bottom of this. There is a mystery somewhere, and I think the hermit, the lost lake and the strange woman, together, can explain it." The rain stopped after supper, though it remained cloudy, and Jerry again prepared the gas lamp. It was arranged that he and Ned would stay up on guard until twelve o'clock and that Bob and the professor would take the rest of the night. Whichever party saw the hermit was at once to notify the other. Jerry and Ned began their vigil. Several hours passed and it seemed they were to have their trouble for their pains. At length, however, just as they were preparing to turn in and let the others take their turn, Jerry saw a movement in the bushes about five hundred feet away, and down near the edge of the lake. The moon, shining faintly through the clouds, illuminated the scene. "Be ready to turn on the light when I say so," said Jerry to Ned. Ned was all alert. Jerry, with his eyes straining to catch the slightest movement of the underbrush, peered through the darkness. Something white attracted him. "Now!" he whispered to Ned, and the light, that had been burning low, was suddenly turned on at full power. In its glare the two boys saw again the white haired hermit stealing along the edge of the water, the big bag on his back. "Call the others!" whispered Jerry to Ned. "I'll keep watch!" "All right." Ned softly went back to the shack where he awakened the professor and Bob. They were out in an instant, and made ready to go quietly down as close as they could to where the hermit was, while Jerry showed the way by the searchlight. But again they were doomed to disappointment, for, no sooner had Jerry turned the light so that it shown full on the old man, than he jumped as though struck by lightning and made a dive for the woods, into the black depths of which he disappeared. "I guess that's the last we'll see of him," said Ned. "He dropped his bag," cried Bob. "Let's get that and see what's in it." At this the professor and Ned ran down to the edge of the water, and soon returned with the sack the old man had carried on his back. "Open it and let's see if there are any murdered persons in it," said Jerry, with an uneasy laugh. Ned untied the string, and, not without some misgivings, peered inside. "Well I never," he exclaimed. "What is it?" asked Bob. "Fish! Nothing but fish!" replied Ned. "Fine ones at that. I guess all we have done is to have scared the poor old man away from his fishing grounds." "Certainly there is nothing suspicious in having a bag of fish," put in the professor. "I wonder if that strange woman could have been telling the truth." "We'll know better if she keeps her word and comes to take us to the hermit's den," said Jerry. There seemed nothing more to do that night, so they all went to bed, not being disturbed until morning. They were awakened by the sun peeping in through the chinks in the shack, and they got up to find a fine day had succeeded the rainy one. The beams of Old Sol were bright and warm, and the first thing the travelers did was to go down and have a dip in the lake. Then breakfast was served, and when it was over Jerry and Ned started to overhaul the machine. "For," said Jerry, "we may want to leave at any time, and the car is in none too good condition since we plowed up the side of the mountain." sunshine lake maintenance Several minor repairs were made and the auto was run down to the main road, where it stood in readiness for a quick start. It was some time after dinner before all this was done, and along about three o'clock the four travelers stretched out under the trees and took a well earned rest. "Now if that strange woman would—" began Ned. "Hush!" cautioned the professor, "some one is coming." maintenance navigation tree road Hardly had he ceased speaking before the bushes opened and there appeared the figure of the queer woman, with her long hair hanging loose down her back. "Hush!" she whispered, placing her finger on her lips. "I have come to keep my promise. The hermit has gone over the mountain. Come, and I will take you to his hut, and you can see where he has murdered travelers." The boys hardly knew whether to obey or not, but a nod from Professor Snodgrass, to whom they looked, indicated they were to do as the woman wanted. So they arose and prepared to follow her. The professor brought up the rear. Through the woods their strange guide went, for several miles. At length she reached a thick part of the woods. "It is very close now," she said. "Wait until I take a look." The travelers halted, while the woman crept softly forward. She peered through the brush into a sort of clearing, and apparently seeing that everything was safe, she motioned for the others to advance. They did so, and, a moment later emerged from the woods into a place where many trees had been cut down. In the centre of this space was a small log cabin, and toward it the woman pointed. "There is his hut," she said. "Come on, I will lead the way." She advanced with great caution, as though she feared to disturb some one. Closer and closer to the door she went, the others close behind her. "He never locks it, so we can go right in," she said. By this time she was near enough to grasp the latch. She raised it, and was about to enter, when the door suddenly swung back, and the old hermit himself, stepping out, stood before the astonished travelers. "There he is! There he is! There is the murderer!" cried the woman, pointing her finger at the hermit. The old man did not appear greatly surprised. He looked from the woman to the boys and the professor, and remarked: "To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit?" "I we,—er—that is—we—er—I—" began the professor, finding it was hard to tell the truth. "Oh, it's poor old Kate," went on the hermit. "She has probably been telling you some strange stories. Will you not come into my cabin?" "Don't go into the murderer's hut!" cried the woman, as she turned and fled back through the underbrush, leaving the travelers in a somewhat queer situation. Chapter XXIII. - Searching for the Hermit (195-202) CHAPTER XXIII SEARCHING FOR THE HERMIT "Let's go to his help!" exclaimed Bob. "Come on!" cried Ned. "You had better not," said the woman, in a calm voice. "It is probably only the police after him for the many murders he has committed, and we had better not interfere. Besides if you want me to take you to your camp you had better come, as I have my house work to do before sunrise." She started to lead the way, and, though the boys felt inclined to follow and see what became of the hermit, they concluded it would be better to go back to camp. Kate seemed to have lost much of her excited manner as she led them through the woods, over a scarcely discernible path. Neither the fast gathering darkness nor the maze of trees seemed to confuse her. She made better progress than did the boys or the professor, as they were not familiar with the ground. "Well of all the queer adventures we've had," remarked Ned to Jerry, who had lagged somewhat in the rear with him, "this is the worst. Think of going to capture a murderer and then being led home by an insane woman! I wonder what will come next?" The journey to camp took some time, as the path was hard for the boys and professor to follow, and several times Kate had to wait for them to catch up to her. At last, however, she brought them out near the little open place where the auto stood, and the boys breathed a sigh of relief. "Our car is safe, anyhow," said Jerry. "Now for some sleep." "Ain't we going to have something to eat first?" demanded Bob in an aggrieved tone. The others laughed at Chunky's sorrowful voice. road condition car navigation "We'll see," said Jerry. "Perhaps you would like a cup of chocolate," he went on, turning to Kate. "No, thank you," she said. "I must not stay here. I want to see if they have captured the murderer, so I will go back," and, turning suddenly, she returned over the path they had come, her footsteps growing fainter and fainter. "Come on, let's make the chocolate," said Bob, when Kate had gone. Jerry soon had the beverage in preparation, and they all enjoyed it. Then they fixed up the beds in the shack, and soon were slumbering, too tired even to post a guard, though, as events proved, there was no need for one. "Well," remarked Jerry, after breakfast had been eaten, "I suppose we may as well push on for Arizona. No use staying here since the mystery is solved." "I don't believe it is solved," spoke Professor Snodgrass, suddenly. "I'm not altogether satisfied about that hermit." "You don't think he's a murderer, do you?" asked Ned. "No, but there is something odd about him. I can not get over the feeling that I have met him before, or some relative of his. Yet I can not recall it clearly. He has certain queer little actions that remind me of some one. I would like to see him again." "If you want to, I think I could find our way back to the cabin in the day time," spoke Ned. "I took pretty good notice of the trail when we went over." "I wish you could," said the professor, eagerly. "I want to have a talk with that old man. Besides, I think I can get some more specimens at his hut. I saw a fine lizard around the door step in the afternoon." So it was decided they would pay another visit to the hermit's cabin. Accordingly they started off after dinner, and, led by Ned, followed the trail. They went astray several times, and had to search about for the path, but finally they came to the place where Kate had halted them the day before to go forward and peer at the hut. "Shall we go right on now?" asked Ned, pausing to see what the rest wanted to do. "The cabin is just ahead." "Go on," said Mr. Snodgrass. They came out into the little glade, in which the cabin stood. As they emerged from the woods they saw Kate standing in front of the hut, crying. "What is the matter?" asked the professor. "They have taken the poor old man away and killed him!" sobbed the woman. "It's another of her imaginations," said Ned, softly. "Probably the hermit is inside." But when they looked he was not to be seen, and his bed showed that it had not been slept in that night. "Will you help me hunt for him?" asked Kate. "Certainly we will," answered the professor. "Then follow me!" exclaimed the woman, striding off into the woods. She led the way, explaining in disjointed sentences, yet so that she could be understood, that the old man frequently imagined some one was after him. At such times he would go to one or another of his hiding places, of which he had a number in the different parts of the woods. But this time he was not to be found easily. Place after place, including caves and deep ravines, were visited by the searchers, but there was no sign of the hermit. "I am sure he has been killed," said Kate in a sorrowful tone. "And he was the kindest man that ever lived." "I thought you said he was a murderer," spoke the professor, wondering in what strange channels the woman's mind ran. "So he is!" exclaimed Kate, "but he is a good murderer, and not one of the bad kind." "Poor woman," sighed Mr. Snodgrass. "Her mind is hopelessly gone." Kate started off in a different direction, and the boys and the professor followed her. She went at a rapid pace, and soon the travelers were aware that they were going up hill. The trail became more steep as they advanced, until they were panting from their exertions. Yet the crazy woman did not seem to become exhausted by the hard pace in the least. "There is the hill!" she exclaimed at last, pointing upward, and the boys saw ahead of them a big half round mound, at the very summit of which was an immense tree. "He sometimes stays in that tree," spoke Kate, as they neared the big forest giant. "In the tree? I presume you mean he has a sort of platform built among the branches," said the professor. "A number of Indian tribes live that way." "He lives right inside the tree what little time he does live up here," replied Kate. "The trunk is hollow, and he crawls into it, and hides until all danger is past. We will soon see if he is there." An examination of the hollow trunk, however, showed that the hermit was not within, nor did the place disclose any signs of his having been there recently. Kate showed the despair she felt and the professor and the boys could not help feeling disappointed. For a while they stood beneath the spreading branches, wondering what would be best to do. All at once the professor, who had been intently gazing up into the leafy branches, gave utterance to an exclamation. "There it is!" he cried. "A regular beauty! I must secure that if I never get another. Keep quiet, every one." "It's another specimen," said Jerry. "Can't you forget them for once, professor?" "This seems to be a sloth or an ant-bear," replied the scientist, as he made preparations to climb the tree. "It has long white whiskers, a black body and no tail. Wait until I crawl up and get it." "Never mind coming up, I'm coming down," spoke a voice, seeming to come from the animal, the capture of which the professor was intent upon. "Bless my soul, it's a combined sloth and parrot!" exclaimed the professor. "That is a rare animal-bird. I must secure it at all hazards. Help me, boys." But there was no need for help, as, the next instant, two dangling legs descended from the lower branches of the tree, to be followed, a little later by a body, and then came a mass of white hair and whiskers. "It's the old hermit!" cried Bob. "Yes! It's him! it's him!" cried Kate. "He is safe! We have found him." "Be quiet!" cautioned the old man, when he had reached the ground. "There may be spies all around, though I think I have escaped them for the time being." "How did you get here?" asked Kate. "I ran as soon as I heard the noise of men coming after me," replied the aged man. "But I did not dare get into the hollow trunk, for fear of being seen. So I just crawled up into the branches, and there I'd be yet if the professor had not mistaken me for a specimen." "You can come down in safety," said Mr. Snodgrass, "as there seems to be no one in the neighborhood but ourselves." "That's good," was the rejoinder, "but there is no telling when some one may come. I think I will go back to my own cabin." The hermit started off with Kate, the others following. He had not proceeded far when he uttered an exclamation: "There is one of them!" At the same instant a roughly dressed man appeared in the narrow path, as if by magic. At sight of him the hermit turned and fled back into the woods. Chapter XXV. - Attacked by the Enemy (212-220) pleasure speed mountain risk weapon CHAPTER XXV ATTACKED BY THE ENEMY "Are you sure the boy we have in mind is your son?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "We do not want to raise false hopes. Perhaps you may be mistaken." "Something tells me I can not be mistaken," exclaimed the hermit. "Tommy Bell is not a common name. Besides, I can describe my son, and then you will know whether he is the one you know," and he rapidly gave a short description of Tommy. "That's him all right," said Jerry, and the others agreed that the lad they had rescued from the hands of the rough men was, indeed, the son of the hermit. "And I thought him dead," said the old man. "After I had been abused by the wicked gang that got me in their control I lost sight of poor Tommy. As soon as I could I made a search for him, but it was of no use." "Tommy thought you had wandered away from him," said Ned. "He told us his story after we had rescued him." "Then you saved his life, just as you have mine," broke in Mr. Bell. "I have much to thank you for. But first I must find my son. Where did you leave him?" "At a place called Las Cruces," replied the professor. Thereupon he told briefly how they had taken Tommy from the hands of the lawless gang and left him with a friend. "I must go to him at once," exclaimed the old man. "I can hardly wait to start. To think that the boy I thought was dead is alive! And I suppose he thinks I am dead also," Mr. Bell went on. "He was going to search for you," replied Bob, "but he did not know where to start. We can send him word now." "I'll take him word myself!" cried Mr. Bell. "I'll start as soon as it is daylight." "Then you had better get some rest and sleep now," observed Mr. Snodgrass. "Come into the shack, and we will make you some hot coffee." The hermit begged them to go to no trouble on his account, but they insisted, and soon the coffee was boiling on the coals of the camp fire. "I'm too excited to sleep," remarked Mr. Bell, as he went inside the rough shelter to lie down. And so it would seem, for, every few minutes he would rouse up from his position, and ask some particular about his son. He appeared scarcely able to believe the good news. At length, however, he grew weary, and along toward morning fell into a doze. The others were so tired and sleepy from being awake the night before that they slumbered late, and the sun was quite high when Jerry roused himself, and sat up, wondering what day it was. He got up, took a plunge in the lake, and came back to start breakfast, finding that, in the meanwhile, the others in the camp, including Mr. Bell, had arisen. "Now to start and find my son," cried the hermit. "You had better have something to eat first," suggested Mr. Snodgrass. "Then perhaps we can think of some plan to aid you." Though impatient to be gone the old man consented to remain to breakfast. He did not eat much, however, and seemed ready any minute to start on the long search for Tommy. "How would it be if we took you to the nearest town in our automobile," suggested the professor, when the meal was over. "From there you can get conveyances and reach Las Cruces in a short time. If you need any money—" "Thank you, I think I have enough for the present," interrupted Mr. Bell. "I do not need much. When I find Tommy I will bring him back with me, and we will be together once more. It seems too good to be true!" "What will become of Kate in the meanwhile?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "Though she has queer ideas concerning you I think she is your friend. Will she be able to live in these woods all alone?" "Kate is able to take care of herself," was the reply. "She was in these woods before I came and she may be here after I am gone. But I will tell her where I am going, and that I expect to return." A trip was made to the hermit's hut, and, after several blasts had been blown on the conch horn, Kate appeared. She was overjoyed to see the aged man again, and was told of the latest developments. "You had better hurry up then, and get away from these woods," said the woman. "Why so?" asked Jerry. "Because there are a number of strange men lurking about," was the answer. "I think they are after this good old man. So be on your guard." "It is the same crowd," said Mr. Bell. "They hate to give me up." "What do they want of you?" asked Jerry. "You said you might tell us the secret some day, adding that perhaps we could help you. Maybe we can help you now." "You can help me, and you have helped me," said Mr. Bell. "I can tell you the rest of my story now. As I said I have long been in quest of some one. That some one is my son Tommy. I did not want to tell you of him before, as I was afraid the news would get out. Nor did I tell you why the gang wanted me in their power. It is because I hold the final title to a piece of valuable property, and they can not get possession of it until I sign off, which I refused to do!" "Why so?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "Because I understand the property is now claimed by persons who, if not in the eyes of the law, are, still the rightful owners. If I should sign my rights away to the gang they would take the property away from the innocent holders now. So I refused to sign, and they have ruined me for it." "Never mind," said the professor, cheerfully. "We will get you out of their power, never fear." "I wonder if the gang that had Tommy is not the same one that had Mr. Bell in their power," suggested Bob. "He told us about men wanting him to sign papers that would give them control of some land." "They must be the same," commented Mr. Bell. "I will be on my guard now. Neither Tommy nor I will sign a single document. But now I must start." "Very well," said Ned. There was no further cause for delay, so Jerry got the automobile ready, and, the various belongings having been stowed away, the engine was started, after a somewhat longer rest than usual, and, puffing away in a manner that awoke all the echoes of the forest, the car started toward the village at the foot of the slope. From there, it was arranged Mr. Bell would go forward to Las Cruces by stage coach, or whatever other means of travel presented themselves. car part equipment engine maintenance rural Once fairly on the road the spirits of all in the party rose. It was a fine day, and the fresh mountain air, crisp and cool, put new life into their veins. They were bowling along the road at a good clip with Jerry at the wheel, when, suddenly in the air above their heads, there sounded a shrill buzz. "That's a new kind of a bumble bee," cried Uriah Snodgrass. "I must have it for my collection." "I guess you wouldn't want many of that kind," said Mr. Bell, quietly. "Why not? I like all kinds." "That was a lead one," went on the old man. "You mean a bullet?" asked Bob. "Is some one firing at us?" "I'm afraid so," answered the hermit. Then came a distant report, followed by the peculiar buzzing sound. "Speed her up!" cried Bob to Jerry. "Let's get out of this danger zone. It's too much like being on the firing line to suit me." The auto, all this while was speeding along, and, soon, the shooters, whoever they were, had been left far in the rear. The sound of the bullets was no longer heard. pleasure mountain speed driver sound risk weapon "The reason they are doing it," answered Mr. Bell, "is that they want to get me alive. If I was to be killed their last chance of getting me to sign the papers would be gone." "But there is your son, Tommy," said Jerry. "He told us they wanted him to sign. If you were dead, he would be your heir, and his signature would be legal when he became of age. Perhaps the men could make use of it even before then." "I see! I see!" exclaimed Mr. Bell. "It is important then that I live so I can beat them at their own game." "Unless you don't care about living on your own account or that of your son's," said the professor, grimly. They kept on steady after this and at last reached the bottom of the mountain slope. "Now for the village," exclaimed Mr. Bell. "I shall soon see my boy!" Faster and faster went the auto. The traveling was good, and Jerry speeded the car to the last notch. About six o'clock they rolled into town, to the surprise of many of the inhabitants, who had never seen one of the puffing, snorting things, though they had read of them. A knot of curious persons gathered around the machine as Jerry brought it to a stop in front of the post-office. Several boys began to inspect every part. The travelers were about to alight when a shrill voice cried out. mountain rural speed pedestrian "Hey, Jerry! And Bob! And Ned! Hey there! Oh, how glad I am to see you!" For a moment the Motor Boys did not recognize the voice. Then Ned saw a lad trying to break through the crowd. "It's Tommy! It's Tommy Bell!" exclaimed Ned. "Hey, Tommy! You can't guess who we have with us!" "Tommy Bell! Did you say Tommy Bell!" exclaimed the hermit. "Where is he? Let me see him!" But Tommy had heard his parent's voice, and the next instant the boy had made a flying leap into the car, and was clasped in his father's arms. pedestrian car [Illustration: THE NEXT INSTANT THE BOY HAD MADE A FLYING LEAP INTO THE CAR.] Chapter XXVI. - On the Road Again (221-226) navigation slowness mountain pleasure CHAPTER XXVI ON THE ROAD AGAIN "Where in the world did you come from?" asked Jerry of Tommy. "How did you get here?" inquired Ned. "How did you know where to find us?" Bob wanted to know. But to all these questions Tommy turned a deaf ear. He was so overjoyed at seeing his father, and the hermit was so excited at seeing his son once more, that neither had eyes nor ears for anything or any one except the other. The crowd looked on curiously, the interest divided between the automobile and the meeting between father and son. Finally, when Mr. Bell and Tommy had, temporarily, exhausted the theme of telling each other how glad they were at being united, the boys had a chance to get a word in edgeways, and Tommy answered a few of their questions. He told them that he had remained for several days with his friend in Las Cruces, and how a traveling miner had, in a general conversation, mentioned the lake and told of the queer hermit that lived on the shores. pedestrian car pleasure Something in the description of this odd character impressed Tommy with the belief that the hermit might be his father, who had taken that method to escape the gang which wanted him to sign away his rights. Accordingly, the boy had started from Las Cruces and made his way to Deighton, the town where Mr. Bell expected to start in search of his son. "I got here this morning," said Tommy, "and I found a little work to do to earn some money. I was going to start up the mountain to-morrow and try and find the lake." "Now you don't have to," said Mr. Bell. "Well, it certainly is a queer world." The travelers spent the night at the Deighton hotel, and, in the morning, after a good breakfast, assembled to talk over their plans for the future. "Do you intend to go back to Lost Lake, Mr. Bell?" asked the professor. "If you do, you and your son can ride that far in the automobile, since we are going back in that direction." "Where are you going after you leave Lost Lake?" asked Mr. Bell. "To Arizona," answered Jerry. "We have a mine there, and we must go to see how things are getting on." lake car passenger "That's rather odd," commented the hermit. "I have an interest in some mining property in Arizona, though I don't suppose it is anywhere near yours. But I have made up my mind not to go back to Lost Lake, except to bring away a few things that I left in the cabin. I would also like to provide for poor Kate. After that I think Tommy and I will go to Arizona and try our fortunes over again." "Then why not go with us?" spoke Jerry. "We have plenty of room in the machine, and we'd be glad of your company." "I would like to very much," said Mr. Bell, "if I thought I would not bother you." He was assured that he would be very welcome, and then he consented to go. A new stock of provisions was purchased, together with some ammunition and some other supplies for the auto. Then, amid the cheers of more than half the populace of Deighton, the travelers began their journey toward Lost Lake again. Mr. Bell had made arrangements with a family in the town to take charge of Kate whom he promised to send to them, for he knew he could depend on the woman to obey him and make the journey alone. lake passenger pleasure equipment car Lost Lake was reached on the second day, for the travelers were delayed by a landslide, and had to camp out one night. They found the camp and the hermit's hut undisturbed. "I guess none of the gang has been around lately," remarked Jerry. "I hope we have seen the last of them," put in Mr. Bell. "They certainly caused enough trouble." A few blasts on the horn brought Kate, and the poor demented woman was overjoyed to see her friends again. She made much of Tommy, who, she said, looked enough like his father to be recognized on the darkest night. accident sound car part pleasure At first the crazy woman objected to being sent to Deighton, but Mr. Bell knew how to reason with her, and after some argument, she consented to go. She started away on the second morning, and, as the travelers learned later, eventually reached the family that had consented to care for her. Under skillful medical treatment Kate partly recovered her reason, and continued to live in Deighton for many years. "Now," remarked the professor, when they had seen Kate started off on her journey, "I suppose it is time for us to move. So let's get started toward our mine, for I'm sure Nestor must be quite anxious to see us." "Onward it is, then!" exclaimed Ned. "All aboard, and may we have a safe trip!" With Ned at the steering wheel the auto was started off. The way was rather rougher than any they had yet traveled over, and for some distance the ascent was steep. But with a new set of batteries and spark plugs, and with everything on the car well adjusted, matters went along smoothly, though no very great speed could be attained. driver road condition topography car part maintenance slowness Mile after mile was covered, the auto mounting higher and higher amid the mountains. There were no signs of human habitation, not even a deserted miner's hut being passed the first two days of the trip. Of course there was no shelter to be had, and nights were spent in the open. But as the weather was mild, and as it did not rain, this was considered more a pleasure than a hardship. The third day they began to see signs that told them they were approaching a town. Now and then cabins and huts would be passed, mostly the lonely homes of solitary miners, who were prospecting for gold. Sometimes they would pass quite good sized camps, and about noon of the fourth day they were invited to come in and have a meal, which they were glad to do. mountain topography pleasure rural slowness The miners told them the nearest town was Sleighton, seventy-five miles away, and that it was the centre of activity for a large area of country round about. "And I wouldn't advise you folks to speed that there machine of yours when you strike the village," said one of the miners. "Why not?" asked Jerry. "Because the marshal is very strict, and he ain't got no very great hankerin' fer choo-choo wagons." "We'll look out," promised Jerry. "We are in too much of a hurry to want any delays." "I wonder if we'll hear anything more of that gang," said Ned as they rode away from the mining camp. "It seems queer that they would drop the thing when they seemed so anxious to capture Mr. Bell." "We'll hear of them again, and in a way we won't like, I'm afraid," said the former hermit. "We'll have to be on the lookout." navigation rural law Chapter XXVII. - Trouble at the Mine (227-236) health law risk navigation CHAPTER XXVII TROUBLE AT THE MINE Several days' travel brought the party over the line into Arizona. They passed through a small village one noon, and, on inquiring their where-abouts were told that they were well within the borders of the state where their gold mine was located. It began to rain shortly after this, and their trip was rather unpleasant, but, well wrapped up in rubber coats, they managed to keep fairly dry. As for the auto it did not seem to mind what kind of weather it was. navigation rural rain equipment Southwest They camped that night under a clump of pine trees which served as a partial shelter, and it was so wet that no fire could be built. Jerry resorted to the stove made from one of the search-lights, and made some hot chocolate that warmed them all up. The next day dawned clear, however, and with a better feeling the travelers took up their journey again. The way was becoming familiar to them, and they recognized many landmarks they had observed in their great race across the continent to secure the gold mine before Noddy Nixon and his crowd could win the claim, as told in detail in "The Motor Boys Overland." tree rain navigation That night they stayed in the town where the government assay office was located and to reach which there had been such an exciting brush between the two automobiles, the one run by Noddy, and that run by the Motor Boys. They saw several men whom they knew slightly, and who appeared much surprised to see them again. "Well, well, well, where in the world did you come from?" asked the proprietor of the hotel, as the auto drew up in front of his place. He had been quite friendly with the boys while they stayed at the mine, and had sold them many supplies. rural equipment "We've been down to Mexico for a change of air," said Jerry. "I suppose it didn't agree with you, or you wouldn't be coming back so soon," went on the proprietor. "Well, we thought our mine needed looking after," Jerry remarked. "Looking after? I should say it did," the proprietor continued. "Jim Nestor was here the other day and he said if you didn't come back pretty soon and do something, there wouldn't be any mine." "Is that right?" asked Ned, thinking the man might be trying to scare them for a joke. "Straight as a string," was the answer. "It seems that the title to the place is in doubt." "I know, Nestor wrote us about that," put in Jerry. "But he is still in possession, isn't he?" "Can't say," replied the hotel man. "He was very anxious the last time I saw him, and that was a week ago. If I was you I'd look after it the first thing in the morning." "We will," said Jerry. "I wonder if the government office is closed." "Long ago," said the proprietor of the inn. "Why?" "I was thinking I could go there and find out what sort of claim there was against our property," answered the boy. "You'll have to wait until ten o'clock to-morrow morning," went on the man. "They've got a new official in charge and he takes more time off than he puts in. Some one ought to write to the President about it. There's lots of kicks about the way he acts." Neither the boys nor the professor did much sleeping that night, because of worry over the mine tangle. They made an early breakfast and then started for their claim, which they expected to reach in about two hours unless something unexpected occurs. The way was familiar to them, and recalled many old memories of the exciting times they had in locating and proving their claim. They pointed out to Mr. Bell the various landmarks as they passed them, but the former hermit seemed to have fallen into a sort of stupor. His eyes had a vacant stare and he took no interest in what was being said. navigation scenery "I'm afraid he's going to be sick," said Jerry to the professor. "He has hardly spoken since we came into Arizona, and he used to be quite a talker." "I guess it is only the excitement wearing off," said Mr. Snodgrass. "He will be all right in a day or two. He has had a pretty hard life the last few weeks." Tommy was worried about his father, and sat beside him, holding his hand, now and then looking up into his face, as if he feared to lose his parent again. As they neared the mine Mr. Bell seemed to become more dazed. Yet he appeared to be struggling to recall something that he had once known and forgotten. Suddenly he stood up in the automobile, as the car passed a deserted and tumbled down hut and exclaimed: "See! There it is! There is the place!" "What place, father? What do you mean?" asked Tommy. But Mr. Bell sat down again, and seemed to have forgotten that he had spoken. The professor could note, however, that there was a struggle going on in the old man's mind. "I hope he does not become raving mad, yet it looks bad for him," the professor thought to himself. scenery rural "Ten minutes more and we'll be there!" exclaimed Jerry, crowding on a little more speed. "I do hope Nestor is having no trouble." They were in the midst of a wild mountainous country now. On either side of the road were great bowlders, while a little further back was scrub timber which extended for a mile or more before the deeper woods were reached. They were just rounding the last turn of the road to swing into the straight stretch that would take them to the mine when there sounded on the air the crack of a rifle. An instant later Mr. Bell gave a convulsive start and fell over in his seat. navigation speed topography scenery sound risk forest "They've killed him! They've shot him!" cried Tommy, while Jerry suddenly brought the machine to a stop. Glancing across to the left a small curling cloud of smoke could be seen floating above a big stone. "There's where the shot came from," said Ned. "Is he badly hurt?" asked Jerry of Professor Snodgrass, who was bending over Mr. Bell. "It is hard to say," was the answer. "The bullet struck him on the head, but there is so much blood I can't tell how bad the wound is. Push on to the mine. Perhaps Nestor can help us." parking visibility risk health Jerry started the machine again. It had attained a good speed when, from the side of the road came a hail. "Motor Boys, ahoy!" "There's Nestor!" cried Ned, pointing to a man who stood in front of a small shanty. "Hello, Nestor!" he called. "Hello!" responded the miner, running down to the road. "Well, I am certainly glad to see you." speed sound "Quick, Nestor!" exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass. "We have a wounded man here, and must get him to the shanty at the mine as soon as possible." "We can't do it," replied Nestor. "Why not?" "Didn't you get my letter?" "Only the one saying there might be a possibility of trouble." "Well trouble came all right. I've been driven from the mine, and it's in possession of a bad gang. So we can't take the wounded man there." "What are we to do?" asked Jerry, seeing that Mr. Bell was bleeding badly. "Bring him into my cabin," said Nestor. "I came here after the gang drove me out. I can put you up, I guess." Jerry ran the car up close to the shanty and Mr. Bell, who was unconscious, was carried in and laid as tenderly as possible on the single bunk of which the place boasted. "Now some warm water and clean clothes," said Mr. Snodgrass. "I must wash the wound and see how bad it is." "I haven't a bit of hot water," said Nestor. "There's plenty in the radiator of the auto," spoke Jerry. "Give me a pail and I'll soon get some." He soon had a plentiful supply that was almost boiling, and, cooling it somewhat, the naturalist carefully washed the blood from the wounded man's head. Then he examined the hurt. health parking equipment car part "Will he die?" asked Tommy, as he stood around, tearfully. "Not this time," replied Mr. Snodgrass, cheerfully. "The bullet appears to have only grazed the scalp a bit, but it probably gave him a pretty hard knock. He'll soon come around right I guess." Mr. Bell was made as comfortable as possible, and, as there was nothing to do but wait until he became conscious, he was left in charge of his son. Tommy was told to call as soon as his father showed signs of awakening, and then the others surrounded Nestor, eager to hear about the mine. "I guess it's gone," said the old prospector. "As I wrote you, the title seems to have some flaw in it, and this gang, which came from somewhere to the southeast, found it out, and served papers on me. It appears that there is a man missing who holds the key to the situation, and who owns the majority of the mine, but he can't be found, and so our title is no good." The news depressed the spirits of all. They had been hoping that the trouble was small and temporary and that Nestor would find a way out. Now they stood to lose the mine they had struggled so hard to get. "Did you resist their claim?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "You bet I did," replied Nestor. "I went to court over it, but the judge said though it was morally wrong to put me out, yet the others had the law on their side, and he had to decide against me. "I didn't give up even then, for I barricaded the place and defied 'em to get me out. But the sheriff came and said that was no way to do. He had the law with him, and he said it would be his duty to shoot me if I resisted. He advised going to a higher court, and so, rather than have any bloodshed I gave up, and decided to camp out here until you came. I've been here about two weeks now." "Then the mine's gone," remarked Jerry, sorrowfully. "We can try the courts," said Nestor, hopefully. "It would take years to settle the case," put in Mr. Snodgrass. "No, I guess you are beaten, boys." "I will not give up yet," said Jerry. "What are you going to do?" asked Ned. "I'm going to town, hire the best lawyer I can get, and see what he says. There may be a way out of this yet." "That's the way to talk!" exclaimed Bob. "I'm with you." Jerry lost no time. He hurried to the auto, and with Bob for company made the run to town in record time. He was directed to a lawyer's office, and, finding the attorney, who was a young chap, in, paid him a retainer and stated the case briefly. "I just want to know how we stand, what sort of a claim there is against our title, and what we can do to perfect it," said Jerry. "It's quite a lot of information to get at in a hurry," said the lawyer, "but I'll do my best. I'll be ready for you at four o'clock this afternoon." "I'll call for you then," went on Jerry, "and take you back to Nestor's shanty, where you can explain the whole thing to us." Then the boys, with a feeling of dread that their mine was gone forever, in spite of all they could do, went back to where the others were. speed navigation rural law Chapter XXVIII. - All's Well that Ends Well (237-248) law health pleasure CHAPTER XXVIII ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL They found Mr. Bell in much the same condition as before, though Mr. Snodgrass said the wounded man's breathing was a little easier, which was a good sign. "And what about the mine?" asked the naturalist. Jerry told him the lawyer was coming. "I'm afraid it will be of little use," said the professor. "Nestor says they had a big lawyer to represent the gang, and they also have a large force in charge of the mine, taking out gold." "And it's our gold," exclaimed Jerry. "Oh, why didn't we get back sooner?" "It wouldn't have done much good," spoke Nestor. "I did all I could, but the law was on their side." "Of course, I didn't mean that you failed," Jerry hastened to add, for fear of hurting the old miner's feelings. "It's too bad, that's all." After a somewhat gloomy dinner, which the professor tried to liven up by telling jokes and funny stories, Jerry oiled the machine, and, about two o'clock started back to town for the lawyer. He found the attorney waiting for him, with several big law books in a valise. "Any luck?" asked Jerry. "Not a great deal," was the answer. "Well, don't tell us until we are all together," went on Jerry. "I don't want to stand it all alone." maintenance oil navigation law car part When, on arrival at Nestor's cabin, the lawyer proceeded to tell what he had learned, there were six very attentive listeners. The attorney went over the ground carefully, and told the boys, Nestor and Professor Snodgrass, much that they had already heard. How, because of a missing owner who held more than a half interest in the mine, the title was not good when the boys preëmpted it. In fact it was still the property of others, though about to lapse. "I don't understand all them legal terms," put in Nestor, "but didn't we make a good claim to the government for that mine?" "You did, as far as it went," replied the lawyer. "Uncle Sam gave you a title, but did not guarantee that some one did not have a better one, which it seems is the case." "But that gang hasn't a good title either, not if the owner of over half the shares is missing," went on Nestor. "No, but it seems, according to the records, that they have some sort of an agreement from this missing man that they are empowered to work the claim until he comes to demand his share." "If that's the case I'm for going up there and driving them out with a gun!" exclaimed Nestor. "They haven't any more right than we have, and we can at least make them go shares with us until this missing man shows up. What's the matter with attacking them to-night." "If you're going to resort to lawless means I'll have to throw up the case," said the attorney. "That is no way to talk." "Nestor doesn't mean it at all," put in Jerry. "Of course we will have no battle with that gang." "There are two ways we might proceed," the lawyer went on. "There may be more, but they are the only ones that suggest themselves to me from what time I was able to give to the case." "What would you advise?" asked Mr. Snodgrass. "You can apply to the courts for an injunction to prevent the working of the mine until the missing half-owner shows up." "But that would bar us as well as them," put in Jerry. "Yes, it would have that effect, if you secured the injunction, which is doubtful. It would be a long and costly litigation, I fear." "And what is the other plan?" "You might try to find the missing man, and buy him out, or make some arrangement with him. From what I can learn he and the others have quarreled and are opposed to each other." "Where is the missing man?" asked Bob. "That is something on which I can not be of the least help to you," was the reply. "There is nothing to show where he is." "Then it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack to search for him, and as long and costly as the injunction means," commented Mr. Snodgrass. "I'm afraid it would," was the lawyer's answer. "What is the man's name?" asked Jerry. "I have it here," proceeded the attorney. "It is Mr. Well, no, that's not it. Oh yes! Here it is. Bell, that's it. Mr. Jackson Bell." "What?" fairly shouted the three boys at once. "What name?" inquired the professor, wondering if he had heard aright. "Jackson Bell," repeated the lawyer. "Why, do you know him?" "Know him?" went on Jerry, jumping up in his excitement. "Why he is in the next room this very minute! Well of all the strange pieces of luck!" Then they all tried to tell the lawyer at once the story of the hermit and his son, making such a jumble that the attorney had to beg them to stop, while he listened to one at a time. Finally the tale was related, and the boys and the professor as well, greatly excited, paused to see what the lawyer would say. "Then I don't see any further trouble to your getting possession of the mine," said the attorney. "If Mr. Bell is on your side, and you make a joint application to the court or even to the government agent, I am sure you will be given instant charge of the claim." "There is only one difficulty," said Mr. Snodgrass. "Mr. Bell is wounded. His mind was not strong before the shooting, and it may be altogether gone when he recovers consciousness. In that case—?" "In that case I'm afraid you are as badly off as before," finished the lawyer. The door to the inner room, where Mr. Bell was in the bunk, opened, and Tommy came out, looking worried. "Is he worse, Tommy?" asked the professor. "He's acting very queer," replied the boy. "He is sitting up in bed, and is trying to get something out from under his shirt. He's talking something about a mine." "He is probably delirious," said Mr. Snodgrass. "We must have a doctor. I'm afraid it looks bad for us, boys." At that instant the form of Mr. Bell, weak and tottering, showed in the doorway. He seemed greatly excited. "There you are!" he cried tearing open his shirt and throwing a bundle, done up in oiled silk on the table. "There are the papers. There are the proofs to the mine. The gang did not get them after all!" "Calm yourself," spoke Mr. Snodgrass, in a soothing tone that one uses to sick children or fever patients. "I'm all right!" exclaimed Mr. Bell. "Don't think I'm crazy. I was a little off my head, but the wound the bullet gave me, and the blood I lost, accomplished just what was needed. There, I tell you, are the papers proving my claim to the mine." "What mine?" asked the professor, while the others waited in anxiety for the answer. "The mine we were going to," responded the old man. "From the description you boys gave of it I recognize it as the same one I have more than a half share in. All the way up here I was trying to recall when I had been here before. I recognized the places, but my mind would not serve me. I had suffered so much that I was almost crazy. Then came the shot, and I did not know anything more, until I just woke up in that room, and remembered all about it. Now we will beat that gang." "Hurrah!" cried Jerry, seizing Ned by the arms and starting to dance a hornpipe. "Are you sure you can not be mistaken about the mine?" asked Mr. Snodgrass, for it seemed hardly possible that the old hermit, whom they had rescued, should turn out to be the much-wanted missing owner. "There are the papers, you can see for yourself," replied Mr. Bell. The lawyer, at a sign from the professor, made a careful examination of the documents. "They seem to be all right," he said. "I have no doubt but that you can fully establish your claim, Mr. Bell." "It isn't my claim, sir." "Why I thought you said—" "Everything I have or own is the property of these noble boys and Professor Snodgrass," went on the former hermit. "They saved my life, and that of my son's. If I gave them a hundred mines I could not repay them." "But we do not want your share," said Mr. Snodgrass. "It don't make any difference what you want, you've got to take it," said Mr. Bell, firmly. "We can settle that part later," put in the lawyer. "The thing to do now is to get possession of the mine. If you wish I will act for you." "Of course we want you to," said Jerry. "Very well. I will take these papers, and go to court with them. If I am successful, as I have no doubt I shall be, I will apply to the sheriff to oust the crowd that is in charge of the mine. Then you and Mr. Bell can take possession." "That's the way to talk!" fairly yelled Nestor, who was anxious to get back to the "diggings." The lawyer was hurried back to town in the auto. Nothing could be done that afternoon, as the court was closed. He promised to be on hand early in the morning. The boys could hardly sleep that night. Mr. Bell seemed to have fully recovered, and, beyond a slight pain where the bullet had hit him, he did not suffer. It was late when they went to bed, and somewhat late when they arose. speed law health "I'm going into town and see what's doing," said Jerry after breakfast. "So am I," cried Ned and Bob. "Better not," went on Jerry. "If I have to bring back the lawyer, and the sheriff and some of his deputies to read the riot act to the gang, I'll need all the room there is." So Jerry went off alone in the car. He did not find the lawyer in, but the attorney's clerk said he was at court. "I'll wait until he comes back," said Jerry, and he sat down in the office. Two hours later, the lawyer came in. rural law "What luck?" asked Jerry. "The very best. I have a peremptory order commanding that crowd to turn the mine over to your party and Mr. Bell. Come on, we'll get the sheriff and finish the thing right up." The sheriff was only too glad of a chance for some activity. He and three deputies, well armed, got into the car, and Jerry started off. To the boy the machine never seemed to move so slowly, but several times one of the deputies threatened to jump out if the auto did not slacken up a bit. Arriving at the cabin, Nestor, the two boys, and Professor Snodgrass were found anxiously waiting. law passenger slowness risk "Now for the mine!" cried Jerry, as he rapidly explained the success of the mission. "Wait till I get my gun," said Nestor. "No shooting unless we have to," warned the sheriff. Then they advanced on the mine. An eighth of a mile away they were halted by a guard. But an order from the sheriff, and a sight of the command from the court, made the guard give in, and he was sent back to the cabin, in custody of one of the deputies. Then, without any warning, the party descended on the others of the gang, who were all gathered in the main cabin at dinner. At first it looked as if there was going to be trouble. Several made an attempt to get their guns, but Nestor, the sheriff, and his man, had covered them, and they saw that the game was up. "I'll read you this court order," said the sheriff. "You needn't bother," spoke the leader, whom the boys recognized as one of the men who had held Tommy a captive. Others in the gang were recognizable as men who had tried to capture Mr. Bell at Lost Lake. "We played a bold game, but we lost," said the leader, as he and his companions, gathering up their baggage, left the cabin, and made their way toward town. They did not go there, however,—since they feared further proceedings,—and were never heard of again. "Hurrah, now we have our mine back again!" cried Jerry. "I wonder if it is paying?" "Better than ever, by the looks of this stuff," answered Jim Nestor, picking up some newly-mined ore that lay on ground. "No wonder that crowd wanted to keep possession of the mine." There followed a general jollification. The boys got up a fine dinner, at which the sheriff, his men, and the lawyer were guests. An arrangement was made whereby Mr. Bell should retain a large interest in the mine, while the other share was divided between our friends as before. The lawyer received a generous fee, and the sheriff and his men were not forgotten. "Well," said Jerry, a week later, "we came out all right, didn't we? I presume our adventures are all over now." "Don't be too sure," put in Bob. "Something else may turn up soon." And Bob was right, as we shall learn in another volume, to be called, "The Motor Boys Afloat; Or, The Stirring Cruise of the Dartaway," a tale of land and sea. The days to follow were busy ones for Jim Nestor and the boys. The mine was started up in better shape than ever before, new machinery put in, and extra workmen engaged. Letters were sent to the boys' folks, telling of all that had happened. "I want to say one thing," said Jerry, one day. "And that is, that it feels mighty good to be back in the United States again." "Exactly what I say," returned Ned. "Right you are," came from Chunky. He rubbed his hands together. "And as we are back, and all is well, why—er—let us have some dinner." And then, with a merry laugh at the lad who never wanted to miss a meal, the others followed Chunky to the table; and here as they sit down to a well-earned repast, we will take our departure. THE END. +
Bibliographic Information Author … Bibliographic Information Author Young, Clarence Genre Fiction Journal or Book The Motor Boys in Mexico: OR THE SECRET OF THE BURIED CITY Publisher - Year of Publication 1906 Pages 1-237 Additional information https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/43204/pg43204-images.html Preface/Chapter I. - The Professor in Trouble (v-8) accident risk weapon equipment PREFACE. Dear Boys: At last I am able to give you the third volume of “The Motor Boys Series,” a line of books relating the doings of several wide-awake lads on wheels, in and around their homes and in foreign lands. The first volume of this series, called “The Motor Boys,” told how Ned, Bob and Jerry became the proud possessors of motor-cycles, and won several races of importance, including one which gave to them, something that they desired with all their hearts, a big automobile touring car. Having obtained the automobile, the lads were not content until they arranged for a long trip to the great West, as told in “The Motor Boys Overland.” On the way they fell in with an old miner, who held the secret concerning the location of a lost gold mine, and it was for this mine that they headed, beating out some rivals who were also their bitter enemies. While at the mine the boys, through a learned professor, learned of a buried city in Mexico, said to contain treasures of vast importance. Their curiosity was fired, and they arranged to go to Mexico in their touring car, and the present volume tells how this trip was accomplished. Being something of an automobile enthusiast myself, it has pleased me greatly to write this story, and I hope the boys will like “The Motor Boys in Mexico” fully as well as they appeared to enjoy “The Motor Boys” and “The Motor Boys Overland.” Clarence Young. May 28, 1906. THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO. CHAPTER I. THE PROFESSOR IN TROUBLE. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” It was the sound of a big revolver being fired rapidly. “Hi, there! Who you shootin’ at?” yelled a voice. Miners ran from rude shacks and huts to see what the trouble was. Down the valley, in front of a log cabin, there was a cloud of smoke. “Who’s killed? What’s the matter? Is it a fight?” were questions the men asked rapidly of each other. Down by the cabin whence the shots sounded, and where the white vapor was rolling away, a Chinaman was observed dancing about on one foot, holding the other in his hands. risk nationality “What is it?” asked a tall, bronzed youth, coming from his cabin near the shaft of a mine on top of a small hill. “Cowboys shooting the town up?” “I guess it’s only a case of a Chinaman fooling with a gun, Jerry. Shall I run down and take a look?” asked a fat, jolly, good-natured-looking lad. “Might as well, Chunky,” said the other. “Then come back and tell Ned and me. My, but it’s warm!” The stout youth, whom his companion had called Chunky, in reference to his stoutness, hurried down toward the cabin, about which a number of the miners were gathering. In a little while he returned. “That was it,” he said. “Dan Beard’s Chinese cook got hold of a revolver and wanted to see how it worked. He found out.” “Is he much hurt?” asked a third youth, who had joined the one addressed as Jerry, in the cabin door. “One bullet hit his big toe, but he’s more scared than injured. He yelled as if he was killed, Ned.” “Well, if that’s all the excitement, I’m going in and finish the letter I was writing to the folks at home,” remarked Jerry. The other lads entered the cabin with him, and soon all three were busy writing or reading notes, for one mail had come in and another was shortly to leave the mining camp. It was a bright day, early in November, though the air was as hot as if it was mid-summer, for the valley, which contained the gold diggings, was located in the southern part of Arizona, and the sun fairly burned as it blazed down. The three boys, who had gone back into their cabin when the excitement following the accidental shooting of the Chinaman had died away, were Jerry Hopkins, Bob Baker and Ned Slade. Bob was the son of Andrew Baker, a wealthy banker; Ned’s father was a well-to-do merchant, and Jerry was the son of a widow, Julia Hopkins. All of the boys lived in Cresville, Mass., a town not far from Boston. The three boys had been chums through thick and thin for as many years as they could remember. A strange combination of circumstances had brought them to Arizona, where, in company with Jim Nestor, an old western miner, they had discovered a rich gold mine that had been lost for many years. temperature “There, my letter’s finished,” announced Jerry, about half an hour after the incident of the shooting. “I had mine done an hour ago,” said Ned. “Let’s run into town in the auto and mail them. We need some supplies, anyhow,” suggested Bob. “All right,” assented the others. The three boys went to the shed where their touring car, a big, red machine in which they had come West, was stored. Ned cranked up, and with a rattle, rumble and bang of the exhaust, the car started off, carrying the three lads to Rockyford, a town about ten miles from the gold diggings. “I wonder if we’ll ever see Noddy Nixon or Jack Pender again?” asked Bob, when the auto had covered about three miles. “And you might as well say Bill Berry and Tom Dalsett,” put in Jerry. “They all got away together. I don’t believe in looking on the dark side of things, but I’m afraid we’ll have trouble yet with that quartette.” “They certainly got away in great shape,” said Bob. “I’ll give Noddy credit for that, if he is a mean bully.” Noddy Nixon was an old enemy of the three chums. As has been told in the story of “The Motor Boys,” the first book of this series, Jerry, Ned and Bob, when at home in Massachusetts, had motor-cycles and used to go on long trips together, on several of which they met Noddy Nixon, Jack Pender and Bill Berry, a town ne’er-do-well, with no very pleasant results. The boys had been able to secure their motor-cycles through winning prizes at a bicycle race, in which Noddy was beaten. This made him more than ever an enemy of the Motor Boys. The latter, after having many adventures on their small machines, entered a motor-cycle race. In this they were again successful, defeating some crack riders, and the prize this time was a big, red touring automobile, the same they were now using. Once they had an auto they decided on a trip across the continent, and their doings on that journey are recorded in the second book of this series, entitled “The Motor Boys Overland.” It was while out riding in their auto in Cresville one evening that they came across a wounded miner in a hut. He turned out to be Jim Nestor, who knew the secret of a lost mine in Arizona. While sick in the hut, Nestor was robbed of some gold he carried in a belt. Jack Pender was the thief, and got away, although the Motor Boys chased him. With Nestor as a guide, the boys set out to find the lost mine. On the way they had many adventures with wild cowboys and stampeded cattle, while once the auto caught fire. navigation city cowboy accident animal health They made the acquaintance, on the prairies, of Professor Uriah Snodgrass, a collector of bugs, stones and all sorts of material for college museums, for he was a naturalist. They succeeded in rescuing the professor from a mob of cowboys, who, under the impression that the naturalist had stolen one of their horses, were about to hang him. The professor went with the boys and Nestor to the mine, and was still with them. The gold claim was not easily won. Noddy Nixon, Pender, Berry and one Pud Stoneham, a gambler, aided by Tom Dalsett, who used to work for Nestor, attacked the Motor Boys and their friends and tried to get the mine away from them. However, Jerry and his friends won out, the sheriff arrested Stoneham for several crimes committed, and the others fled in Noddy’s auto, which he had stolen from his father, for Noddy had left home because it was discovered that he had robbed the Cresville iron mill of one thousand dollars, which crime Jerry and his two chums had discovered and fastened on the bully. So it was no small wonder, after all the trouble Noddy and his gang had caused, that Jerry felt he and his friends might hear more of their unpleasant acquaintances. Noddy, Jerry knew, was not one to give up an object easily. In due time town was reached, the letters were mailed, and the supplies purchased. Then the auto was headed back toward camp. About five miles from the gold diggings, Ned, who sat on the front seat with Bob, who was steering, called out: “Hark! Don’t you hear some one shouting?” Bob shut off the power and, in the silence which ensued, the boys heard a faint call. “Help! Help! Help!” “It’s over to the left,” said Ned. “No; it’s to the right, up on top of that hill,” announced Jerry. They all listened intently, and it was evident that Jerry was correct. The cries could be heard a little more plainly now. “Help! Hurry up and help!” called the voice. “I’m down in a hole!” The boys jumped from the auto and ran to the top of the hill. At the summit they found an abandoned mine shaft. Leaning over this they heard groans issuing from it, and more cries for aid. equipment city passenger sound driver parking topography risk “Who’s there?” asked Jerry. “Professor Uriah Snodgrass, A. M., Ph.D., F. R. G. S., B. A. and A. B. H.” “Our old friend, the professor!” exclaimed Ned. “How did you ever get there?” he called down the shaft. “Never mind how I got here, my dear young friend,” expostulated the professor, “but please be so kind as to help me out. I came down a ladder, but the wood was rotten, and when I tried to climb out, the rungs broke. Have you a rope?” “Run back to the machine and get one,” said Jerry to Bob. “We’ll have to pull him up, just as we did the day he fell over the cliff.” In a few minutes Bob came back with the rope. A noose was made in one end and this was lowered to the professor. “Put it around your chest, under your arms, and we will haul you up,” said Jerry. “I can’t!” cried the professor. “Why not?” “Can’t use my hands.” “Are your arms broken?” asked the boy, afraid lest his friend had met with an injury. “No, my dear young friend, my arms are not broken. I am not hurt at all.” “Then, why can’t you put the rope under your arms?” “Because I have a very rare specimen of a big, red lizard in one hand, and a strange kind of a bat in the other. They are both alive, and if I let them go to fix the rope they’ll get away, and they’re worth five hundred dollars each. I’d rather stay here all my life than lose these specimens.” “How will we ever get him up?” asked Bob. Chapter II. - The Professor's Story (9-169 equipment night risk CHAPTER II. THE PROFESSOR’S STORY. For a little while it did seem like a hard proposition. The professor could not, or rather would not, aid himself. Once the rope was around him it would be an easy matter for the boys to haul him out of the hole. “If we could lasso him it would be the proper thing,” said Bob. “I have it!” exclaimed Ned. He began pulling up the rope from where it dangled down into the abandoned shaft. “What are you going to do?” asked Jerry. “I’ll show you,” replied Ned, adjusting the rope around his chest, under his arms. “Now if you two will lower me into the hole I’ll fasten this cable on the professor and you can haul him up. Then you can yank me out, and it will be killing two birds with one stone.” “More like hanging two people with one rope,” laughed Bob. But Ned’s plan was voted a good one. Jerry and Bob lowered him carefully down the shaft, until the slacking of the rope told that he was at the bottom. In a little while they heard a shout: “Haul away!” It was quite a pull for the two boys, for, though the professor was a small man, he was no lightweight. Hand over hand the cable was hauled until, at last, the shining bald head of the naturalist was observed emerging from the black hole of the abandoned mine. “Easy, easy, boys!” he cautioned, as soon as his chin was above the surface. “I’ve got two rare specimens with me, and I don’t want them harmed.” When Jerry and Bob had pulled Professor Snodgrass up as far as possible, by means of the rope, the naturalist rested his elbows on the edge of the shaft and wiggled the rest of the way out by his own efforts. In one hand was a big lizard, struggling to escape, and in the other was a large bat, flapping its uncanny wings. “Ah, I have you safe, my beauties!” exclaimed the collector. “You can’t get away from me now!” He placed the reptile and bat in his green specimen-box, which was on the ground a short distance away, his face beaming with pride over his achievement, though in queer contrast to his disordered appearance, for he had fallen in the mud of the mine, his clothes were all dirt, his hat was gone and he looked as ruffled as a wet hen. “Much obliged to you, boys,” he said, coming over to Bob and Jerry. “I might have stayed there forever if you hadn’t come along. Seems as though I am always getting into trouble. Do you remember the day I fell over the cliff with Broswick and Nestor, and you pulled us up with the auto?” “I would say we did,” replied Jerry. “But now we must pull Ned up.” Once more the rope was lowered down the shaft and in a few minutes Ned was hauled up safely. “It’s almost as deep as our mine shaft,” he said, as he brushed the dirt from his clothes, “but I didn’t see any gold there, for it’s as dark as a pocket. How did you come to go down, professor?” “I suspected I might get some specimens in such a place,” replied the naturalist, “so I just went down, and I had excellent luck, most excellent!” “It’s a good thing you think so,” put in Jerry. “Most people would call it bad to get caught at the bottom of a mine shaft.” “Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” went on the professor, casting his eyes over the ground in search of any stray specimens of snakes or bugs. “I had my candle with me until I lost it, just after I caught the lizard and bat. I could have come up all right if the ladder hadn’t broken. It was quite a hole, for a fact. It reminds me of another big hole I once heard about.” “What hole is that?” asked Ned. “Oh, that’s quite a story, all about mysteries, buried cities and all that.” “Tell us about it,” suggested Jerry. “To-night, maybe,” answered the naturalist. “I want to get back to camp now and attend to my specimens.” The boys and the professor, the latter carrying his box of curiosities, were soon in the auto and speeding back to the gold mine. That night, sitting around the camp-fire, which blazed cheerfully, the boys asked Professor Snodgrass to tell them the story he had hinted at when they hauled him from the mine shaft. “Let me listen, too,” said Jim Nestor, filling his pipe and stretching out on the grass. Then, in the silence of the early night, broken only by the crackle of the flames and the distantly heard hoot of owls or howl of foxes, the naturalist told what he knew of a buried city of ancient Mexico. driver passenger speed night pleasure sound “It was some years ago,” he began, “that a friend of mine, a young college professor, was traveling in Mexico. He visited all the big places and then, getting tired of seeing the things that travelers usually see, he struck out into the wilds, accompanied only by an old Mexican guide. “He traveled for nearly a week, getting farther and farther away from civilization, until one night he found himself on a big level plain, at the extreme end of which there was a curiously shaped mountain. “He proposed to his guide that they camp for the night and proceed to the mountain the next day. The guide assented, but he acted so queerly that my friend wondered what the matter was. He questioned his companion, but all he could get out of him was that the mountain was considered a sort of unlucky place, and no one went there who could avoid it. “This made my friend all the more anxious to see what might be there, and he announced his intention of making the journey in the morning. He did so, but he had to go alone, for, during the night, his guide deserted him.” “And what did he find at the mountain?” asked Bob. “A gold mine?” “Not exactly,” replied the professor. “Maybe it was a silver lode,” suggested Nestor. “There’s plenty of silver in Mexico.” rural mountain “It wasn’t a silver mine, either,” went on the professor. “All he found was a big hole in the side of the mountain. He went inside and walked for nearly a mile, his only light being a candle. Then he came to a wall of rock. He was about to turn back, when he noticed an opening in the wall. It was high up, but he built a platform of stones up and peered through the opening.” “What did he see?” asked Jerry. “The remains of an ancient, buried city,” replied Professor Snodgrass. “The mountain was nothing more than a big mound of earth, with an opening in the top, through which daylight entered. The shaft through the side led to the edge of the city. My friend gazed in on the remains of a place thousands of years old. The buildings were mostly in ruins, but they showed they had once been of great size and beauty. There were wide streets with what had been fountains in them. There was not a vestige of a living creature. It was as if some pestilence had fallen on the place and the people had all left.” “Did he crawl through the hole in the wall and go into the deserted city?” asked Nestor, with keen interest. “He wanted to,” answered the naturalist, “but he thought it would be risky, alone as he was. So he made a rough map of as much of the place as he could see, including his route in traveling to the mountain. Then he retraced his steps, intending to organize a searching party of scientists and examine the buried city.” “Did he do it?” came from Bob, who was listening eagerly. “No. Unfortunately, he was taken ill with a fever as soon as he got back to civilization, and he died shortly afterward.” “Too bad,” murmured Jerry. “It would have been a great thing to have given to the world news of such a place in Mexico. It’s all lost now.” “Not all,” said the professor, in a queer voice. “Why not? Didn’t you say your friend died?” “Yes; but before he expired he told me the story and gave me the map.” “Where is it?” asked Nestor, sitting up and dropping his pipe in his excitement. “There!” exclaimed the professor, extending a piece of paper, which he had brought forth from his possessions. Eagerly, they all bent forward to examine the map in the light of the camp-fire. The drawing was crude enough, and showed that the buried city lay to the east of the chain of Sierra Madre Mountains, and about five hundred miles to the north of the City of Mexico. “There’s the place,” said the professor, pointing with his finger to the buried city. “How I wish I could go there! It has always been my desire to follow the footsteps of my unfortunate friend. Perhaps I might discover the buried city. I could investigate it, make discoveries and write a book about it. That would be the height of my ambition. But I’m afraid I’ll never be able to do it.” For a few minutes there was silence about the camp-fire, each one thinking of the mysterious city that was not so very many miles from them. Suddenly Ned jumped to his feet and gave a yell. “Whoop!” he cried. “I have it! It will be the very thing!” Chapter III. - News of Noddy Nixon (17-23) pleasure city South CHAPTER III. NEWS OF NODDY NIXON. “What’s the matter? Bit by a kissin’ bug?” asked Nestor, as Ned was capering about. “Nope! I’m going to find that buried city,” replied Ned. “He’s loony!” exclaimed the miner. “He’s been sleepin’ in the moonlight. That’s a bad thing to do, Ned.” “I’m not crazy,” spoke the boy. “I have a plan. If you don’t want to listen to it, all right,” and he started for the cabin. “What is it, tell us, will you?” came from the professor, who was in earnest about everything. “I just thought we might make a trip to Mexico in the automobile, and hunt for that lost city,” said Ned. “We could easily make the trip. It would be fun, even if we didn’t find the place, and the gold mine is now in good shape, so that we could leave, isn’t it, Jim?” “Oh, I can run the mine, all right,” spoke Nestor. “If you boys want to go traipsin’ off to Mexico, why, go ahead, as far as I’m concerned. Better ask your folks first, though. I reckon you an’ the professor could make the trip, easy enough, but I won’t gamble on your finding the buried city, for I’ve heard such stories before, an’ they don’t very often come true.” “Dearly as I would like to make the trip in the automobile, and sure as I feel that we could do it, I think we had better sleep on the plan,” said Professor Snodgrass. “If you are of the same mind in the morning we will consider it further.” “I’d like to go, first rate,” came from Jerry. “Same here,” put in Bob. That night each of the boys dreamed of walking about in some ancient towns, where the buildings were of gold and silver, set with diamonds, and where the tramp of soldiers’ feet resounded on the paved courtyards of the palaces of the Montezumas. “Waal,” began Nestor, who was up early, making the coffee, when the boys turned out of their bunks, “air ye goin’ to start for Mexico to-day, or wait till to-morrow?” “Don’t you think we could make the trip?” asked Jerry, seriously. “Oh, you can make it, all right, but you’ll have troubles. In the first place, Mexico ain’t the United States, an’ there’s a queer lot of people, mostly bad, down there. You’ll have to be on the watch all the while, but if you’re careful I guess you’ll git along. But come on, now, help git breakfust.” risk Through the meal, though the boys talked little, it was evident they were thinking of nothing but the trip to Mexico. “I’m going to write home now and find if I can go,” said Ned. Jerry and Bob said they would do the same, and soon three letters were ready to be sent. After their usual round of duties at the mine, which consisted in making out reports, dealing out supplies, and checking up the loads of ore, the boys went to town in the auto to mail their letters. It was a pleasant day for the trip, and they made good time. pleasure speed city “It will be just fine if we can go,” said Bob. “Think of it, we may find the buried city and discover the stores of gold hidden by the inhabitants.” “I guess all the gold the Mexicans ever had was gobbled up by the Spaniards,” put in Jerry. “But we may find a store of curios, relics and other things worth more than gold,” added Ned. “If we take the professor with us that’s what he would care about more than money. I do hope we can go.” “It’s going to be harder to find than the lost gold mine was,” said Jerry. “That map the professor has isn’t much to go by.” “Oh, it will be fun hunting for the place,” went on Bob. “We may find the city before we know it.” In due time the boys reached town and mailed their letters. There was some excitement in the village over a robbery that had occurred, and the sheriff was organizing a posse to go in search of a band of horse thieves. “Don’t you want to go ’long?” asked the official of the boys, whom he knew from having aided them in the battle at the mine against Noddy Nixon and his friends some time before. “Come along in the choo-choo wagon. I’ll swear you in as special deputies.” “No, thanks, just the same,” Jerry said. “We are pretty busy up at the diggings and can’t spare the time.” “Like to have you,” went on the sheriff, genially. “You could make good time in the gasolene gig after those hoss thieves.” But the boys declined. They had been through enough excitement in securing the gold mine to last them for a while. law animal speed gasoline “We must stop at the store and get some bacon,” said Ned. “Nestor told me as we were coming away. There’s none at the camp.” Bidding the sheriff good-by, and waiting until he had ridden off at the head of his forces, the boys turned their auto toward the general store, located on the main street of Rockyford. “Howdy, lads!” exclaimed the proprietor, as he came to the door to greet them. “What is it to-day, gasolene or cylinder oil?” “Bacon,” replied Jerry. “Got some prime,” the merchant said. “Best that ever come off a pig. How much do you want?” “Twenty pounds will do this time,” answered Jerry. “We may not be here long, and we don’t want to stock up too heavily.” “You ain’t thinkin’ of goin’ back East, are ye?” exclaimed the storekeeper. “More likely to go South,” put in Ned. “We were thinking of Mexico.” “You don’t say so!” cried the vendor of bacon and other sundries. “Got another gold mine in sight down there?” “No; but——” and then Ned subsided, at a warning punch in the side from Jerry, who was not anxious to have the half-formed plans made public. “You was sayin’——” began the storekeeper, as if desirous of hearing more. equipment gasoline oil navigation city urban South “Oh, we may take a little vacation trip down into Mexico,” said Jerry, in a careless tone. “We’ve been working pretty hard and we need a rest. But nothing has been decided yet.” “Mexico must be quite a nice place,” went on the merchant. “What makes you think so?” asked Bob. “I heard of another automobilin’ party that went there not long ago.” “Who was it?” spoke Jerry. “Some chap named Dixon or Pixon or Sixon, I forget exactly what it was.” “Was it Nixon?” asked Jerry. “That’s it! Noddy Nixon, I remember now. He had a chap with him named Perry or Ferry or Kerry or——” “Bill Berry, maybe,” suggested Bob. “That was it! Berry. Queer what a poor memory I have for names. And there was another with him. Let’s see, I have it; no, that wasn’t it. Oh, yes, Hensett!” “You mean Dalsett,” put in Ned. “That’s it! Dalsett! And there was another named Jack Pender. There, I bet I’ve got that right.” “You have,” said Jerry. “You say they went to Mexico?” “You see, it was this way,” the storekeeper went on. “It was about three weeks ago. They come up in a big automobile, like yours, an’ bought a lot of stuff. I kind of hinted to find out where they was headed for, an’ all the satisfaction I got was that that there Nixon feller says as how he guessed Mexico would be the best place for them, as the United States Government hadn’t no control down there. Then one of the others says Mexico would suit him. So I guess they went. Now, is there anything else I can let you have?” “Thanks, this will be all,” replied Jerry, paying for the bacon. The boys waited until they were some distance on the road before they spoke about the news the storekeeper had told them. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Noddy and his gang had gone to Mexico,” said Ned. “That’s the safest place for them, after what they did.” “I wish they weren’t there, if we are to take a trip in that country,” put in Bob. “It’s a big place, I guess they won’t bother us,” came from Jerry. road navigation South But he was soon to find that Mexico was not big enough to keep Noddy and his crowd from making much trouble and no little danger for him and his friends. They arrived at camp early in the afternoon and told Nestor the news they had heard. He did not attach much importance to it, as he was busy over an order for new mining machinery. There was plenty for the boys to do about camp, and soon they were so occupied that they almost forgot there was such a place as Mexico. Chapter IV. - Over the Rio Grande (24-31) river maintenance navigation storm CHAPTER IV. OVER THE RIO GRANDE. A week later, during which there had been busy days at the mining camp, the boys received answers to their letters. They came in the shape of telegrams, for the lads had asked their parents to wire instead of waiting to write. Each one received permission to make the trip into the land of the Montezumas. “Hurrah!” yelled Bob, making an ineffectual attempt to turn a somersault, and coming down all in a heap. “What’s the matter?” asked Nestor, coming out of the cabin. “Wasp sting ye?” “We can go to Mexico!” cried Ned, waving the telegram. “Same thing,” replied the miner. “Ye’ll git bit by sand fleas, tarantulas, scorpions, centipedes, horse-flies an’ rattlesnakes, down there. Better stay here.” “Is it as bad as that?” asked Bob. “If it is I’ll get the finest collection of bugs the college ever saw,” put in Professor Snodgrass. “Well, it may not be quite as bad, but it’s bad enough,” qualified Nestor. “But don’t let me discourage you. Go ahead, this is a free country.” So it was arranged. The boys decided they would start in three days, taking the professor with them. “And we’ll find that buried city if it’s there,” put in Ned. The next few days were busy ones. At Nestor’s suggestion each one of the boys had a stout money-belt made, in which they could carry their cash strapped about their waists. They were going into a wild country, the miner told them, where the rights of people were sometimes disregarded. Then the auto was given a thorough overhauling, new tires were put on the rear wheels, and a good supply of ammunition was packed up. In addition, many supplies were loaded into the machine, and Professor Snodgrass got an enlarged box made for his specimens, as well as two new butterfly nets. The boys invested in stout shoes and leggins, for they felt they might have to make some explorations in a wild country. A good camp cooking outfit was taken along, and many articles that Nestor said would be of service during the trip. risk maintenance car part weapon equipment “Your best way to go,” said the miner, “will be to scoot along back into New Mexico for a ways, then take over into Texas, and strike the Rio Grande below where the Conchas River flows into it. This will save you a lot of mountain climbing an’ give you a better place to cross the Rio Grande. At a place about ten miles below the Conchas there is a fine flat-boat ferriage. You can take the machine over on that.” The boys promised to follow this route. Final preparations were made, letters were written home, the auto was gone over for the tenth time by Jerry, and having received five hundred dollars each from Nestor, as their share in the mine receipts up to the time they left, they started off with a tooting of the auto horn. navigation maintenance car part sound topography “That’s more money than I ever had at one time before,” said Bob, patting his money-belt as he settled himself comfortably down in the rear seat of the car, beside Professor Snodgrass. “Money is no good,” said the naturalist. “No good?” “No; I’d rather catch a pink and blue striped sand flea, which is the rarest kind that exists, than have all the money in the world. If I can get one of them or even a purple muskrat, and find the buried city, that will be all I want on this earth.” “I certainly hope we find the buried city,” spoke up Ned, who was listening to the conversation, “but I wouldn’t care much for a purple muskrat.” “Well, every one to his taste,” said the professor. “We may find both.” The journey, which was to prove a long one, full of surprises and dangers, was now fairly begun. The auto hummed along the road, making fast time. passenger animal risk speed sound That night the adventurers spent in a little town in New Mexico. Their arrival created no little excitement, as it was the first time an auto had been in that section. Such a crowd of miners and cowboys surrounded the machine that Jerry, who was steering, had to shut off the power in a hurry to avoid running one man down. “I thought maybe ye could jump th’ critter over me jest like they do circus hosses,” explained the one who had nearly been hit by the car. Jerry laughingly disclaimed any such powers of the machine. Two days later found them in Texas, and, recalling Nestor’s directions about crossing the Rio Grande, they kept on down the banks of that mighty river until they passed the junction where the Conchas flows in. night city cowboy pedestrian risk navigation river So far the trip had been without accident. The machine ran well and there was no trouble with the mechanism or the tires. Just at dusk, one night, they came to a small settlement on the Rio Grande. They rode through the town until they came to a sort of house-boat on the edge of the stream. A sign over the entrance bore the words: Ferry Here. “This is the place we’re looking for, I guess,” said Jerry. He drove the machine up to the entrance and brought it to a stop. A dark-featured man, with a big scar down one side of his face, slouched to the door. safety car part city river parking night “Well?” he growled. “We’d like to be ferried over to the other side,” spoke Jerry. “Come to-morrow,” snarled the man. “We don’t work after five o’clock.” “But we’d like very much to get over to-night,” went on Jerry. “And if it’s any extra trouble we’d be willing to pay for it.” “That’s the way with you rich chaps that rides around in them horseless wagons,” went on the ferrymaster. “Ye think a man has got to be at yer beck an’ call all the while. I’ll take ye over, but it’ll cost ye ten dollars.” “We’ll pay it,” said Jerry, for he observed a crowd of rough men gathering, whose looks he did not like, and he thought he and his friends would be better off on the other side of the stream, on Mexican territory. “Must be in a bunch of hurry,” growled the man. “Ain’t tryin’ to git away from th’ law, be ye?” “Not that we know of,” laughed Jerry. “Looks mighty suspicious,” snarled the man. “But, come on. Run yer shebang down on the boat, an’ go careful or you’ll go through the bottom. The craft ain’t built to carry locomotives.” Jerry steered the car down a slight incline onto a big flat boat, where it was blocked by chunks of wood so that it could not roll forward or backward. law safety risk river By this time the ferrymaster and his crew had come down to the craft. They were all rather unpleasant-looking men, with bold, hard faces, and it was evident that each one of the five, who made up the force that rowed the boat across the stream, was heavily armed. They wore bowie-knives and carried two revolvers apiece. But the sight of armed men was no new one to the boys since their experience in the mining camp, and they had come to know that the chap who made the biggest display of an arsenal was usually the one who was the biggest coward, seldom having use for a gun or a knife. “All ready?” growled the ferryman. “All ready,” called Jerry. He and the other boys, with the professor, had alighted from the auto and stood beside it on the flat boat. weapon river pedestrian Pulling on the long sweeps, the men sent the boat out into the stream, which, at this point, was about a mile wide. Once beyond the shore the force of the current made itself felt, and it was no easy matter to keep the boat headed right. Every now and then the ferryman would cast anxious looks at the sky, and several times he urged the men to row faster. “Do you think it is going to storm, my dear friend?” asked the professor, in a kindly and gentle voice. “Think it, ye little bald-headed runt! I know it is!” exploded the man. “And if it ketches us out here there’s goin’ to be trouble.” The sky was blacking up with heavy clouds, and the wind began to blow with considerable force. The boat seemed to make little headway, though the men strained at the long oars. “Row, ye lazy dogs!” exclaimed the pilot. “Do ye want to upset with this steam engine aboard? Row, if ye want to git ashore!” The men fairly bent the stout sweeps. The wind increased in violence, and quite high waves rocked the ferryboat. The sky was getting blacker. Jagged lightning came from the clouds, and the rumble of thunder could be heard. “Row, I tell ye! Row!” yelled the pilot, but the men could do no more than they were doing. The big boat tossed and rocked, and the automobile started to slide forward. “Fasten it with a rope!” cried Jerry, and aided by his companions they lashed the car fast. “Look out! We’re in for it now!” shouted the ferryman. “Here comes the storm!” With a wild burst of sky artillery, the clouds opened amid a dazzling electrical display, and the rain came down in torrents. At the same time the wind increased to hurricane force, driving the boat before it like a cork on the waves. Three of the men lost their oars, and the craft, with no steerage way, was tossed from side to side. Then, as there came a stronger blast of the gale, the boat was driven straight ahead. “We’re going to hit something!” yelled Jerry, peering through the mist of rain. “Hold fast, everybody!” The next instant there was a resounding crash, and the sound of breaking and splintering wood. river storm lightning wind rain risk sound Chapter V. - A Thief in the Night (32-40) accident storm night river CHAPTER V. A THIEF IN THE NIGHT. The shock was so hard that every one on the ferryboat was knocked down, and the auto, breaking from the restraining ropes, ran forward and brought up against the shelving prow of the scow. “Here, where you fellers goin’?” demanded a voice from amid the scene of wreckage and confusion. “What do ye mean by tryin’ t’ smash me all to splinters?” At the same time this remonstrance was accompanied by several revolver shots. Then came a volley of language in choice Spanish, and the noise of several men chopping away at planks and boards. The wind continued to blow and the rain to fall, while the lightning and thunder were worse than before. But the ferryboat no longer tossed and pitched on the storm-lashed river. It remained stationary. accident weapon sound wind lightning thunder storm river “Now we’re in for it,” shouted the ferryman, as soon as he had scrambled to his feet. “A nice kettle of fish I’m in for takin’ this automobile over on my boat!” “What has happened?” asked Jerry, trying to look through the mist of falling rain, and seeing nothing but a black object, as large as a house, looming up before him. “Matter!” exclaimed the pilot. “We’ve gone and smashed plumb into Don Alvarzo’s house-boat and done no end of damage. Wait until he makes you fellers pay for it.” “It wasn’t our fault,” began Jerry. “You were in charge of the ferryboat. We are only passengers. Besides, we couldn’t stop the storm from coming up.” “Tell that to Don Alvarzo,” sneered the ferryman. “Maybe he’ll believe you. But here he comes himself, and we can see what has happened.” Several Mexicans bearing lanterns now approached. At their head was a tall, swarthy man, wearing a big cloak picturesquely draped over his shoulders, velvet trousers laced with silver, and a big sombrero. By the lantern light it could be seen that the ferryboat had jammed head-on against the side of a large house-boat moored on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande. So hard had the scow rammed the other craft that the two were held together by a mass of splintered wood, the front of the ferryboat breaking a hole in the side of the house-boat and sticking there. The automobile had nearly gone overboard. Don Alvarzo began to speak quickly in Spanish, pointing to the damage done. “I beg your pardon,” said Jerry, taking off his cap and bowing in spite of the rain that was still coming down in torrents. “I beg your pardon, señor, but if you would be so kind as to speak in English we could understand it better.” “Certainly, my dear young sir,” replied Don Alvarzo, bowing in his turn, determined not to be outdone by an Americano. “I speak English also. But what is this? Diablo! I am taking my meal on my house-boat. I smoke my cigarette, and am thankful that I am not out in the storm. Presto! There comes a crash like unto that the end of the world is nigh! I rise! I run! I fire my revolver, thinking it may be robbers! My Americano manager he calls out! Now, if you please, what is it all about?” storm “The storm got the best of the ferryboat,” said Jerry. “My friends and myself, including Professor Uriah Snodgrass, of whom you may have heard, for he is a great scientist——” “I salute the professor,” interrupted Don Alvarzo, bowing to the naturalist. “Well, we are going to make a trip through Mexico,” went on Jerry. “We engaged this man,” pointing to the ferrymaster, “to take us over the river in his boat. Unfortunately we crashed into yours. It was not our fault.” Angry cries from the Mexicans who stood in a half circle about Don Alvarzo on the deck of the house-boat showed that they understood this talk, but did not approve of it. “Americanos pigs! Make pay!” called out one man. “We’re not pigs, and if this accident is our fault we will pay at once,” said Jerry, hotly. “There, there, señor,” said the Don, motioning to his man to be quiet. “We will consider this. It appears that you are merely passengers on the ferryboat. The craft was in charge of Señor Jenkins, there, whom I very well know. He will pay me for the damage, I am sure.” “You never made a bigger mistake in your life!” exclaimed Jenkins. “If there’s any payin’ to be done, these here automobile fellers will have to do it. I’m out of pocket now with chargin’ ’em only ten dollars, for three of my oars are lost.” “Very well, then, we will let the law take its course,” said the Don. “Here!” he called to his men, “take the ferry captain into custody. We’ll see who is to pay.” “Rather than have trouble and delay we would be willing to settle for the damages,” spoke up Jerry. “How much is it?” “I will have to refer you to Señor Jones, my manager,” said the Mexican. “What’s all the row about?” interrupted a voice, and a tall, lanky man came forward into the circle of lantern light. “People can’t expect to smash boats an’ not pay for ’em.” “We are perfectly willing to pay,” said Jerry. “Well, if there ain’t my old friend Professor Snodgrass!” cried Jones, jumping down on the flat-boat and shaking hands with the naturalist. “Well, well, this is a sight for sore eyes. I ain’t seen ye since I was janitor in your laboratory in Wellville College. How are ye?” The professor, surprised to meet an acquaintance under such strange circumstances, managed to say that he was in good health. “Well, well,” went on Jones, “I’ll soon settle this. Look here, Don Alvarzo,” he went on, “these is friends of mine. If there’s any damage——” “Oh, I assure you, not a penny, not a penny!” exclaimed the Mexican. “I regret that my boat was in their way. I beg a thousand pardons. Say not a word more, my dear professor and young friends, but come aboard and partake of such poor hospitality as Don Miguel Fernandez Alvarzo can offer. I am your most humble servant.” The boys and the professor were glad enough of the turn events had taken. At a few quick orders from Jones and the Don, the Mexicans and the ferry captain’s crew backed the scow away from the house-boat. A landing on shore was made, the automobile run off, and the ferryman having been paid his money, with something extra for the lost oars, pulled off into the rain and darkness, growling the while. “Now you must come in out of the rain,” said Don Alvarzo, as soon as the auto had been covered with a tarpaulin, carried in case of bad weather. “We can dry and feed you, at all events.” equipment river night rain It was a pleasant change from the storm outside to the warm and well-lighted house-boat. The thunder and lightning had ceased, but the rain kept up and the wind howled unpleasantly. “I regret that your advent into this wonderful land of Mexico should be fraught with such inauspicious a beginning as this outburst of the elements,” spoke Don Alvarzo, with a bow, as he ushered his guests into the dining-room. “Oh, well, we’re used to bad weather,” said Bob, cheerfully. In a little while the travelers had divested themselves of their wet garments and donned dry ones from their valises that had been brought in from the auto. Soon they sat down to a bountiful meal in which red peppers, garlic and frijoles, with eggs and chicken, formed a prominent part. Jones, the Don’s manager, ate with them, and told how, in his younger days, he had worked at a college where Professor Snodgrass had been an instructor. Supper over, they all gathered about a comfortable fire and, in answer to questions from Don Alvarzo, the boys told something of their plans, not, however, revealing their real object. “I presume you are searching for silver mines,” said the Don, with a laugh and a sly wink. “Believe me, all the silver and gold, too, is taken out of my unfortunate country. You had much better go to raising cattle. Now, I have several nice ranches I could sell you. What do you say? Shall we talk business?” But Jerry, assuming the rôle of spokesman, decided they had no inclination to embark in business just yet. They might consider it later, he said. The Don looked disappointed, but did not press the point. The evening was passed pleasantly enough, and about nine o’clock, as the travelers showed signs of fatigue, Jones suggested that beds might be agreeable. “I am sorry I cannot give you sleeping apartments together,” remarked the Don. “I can put two of you boys in one room, give the professor another small room, and the third boy still another. It is the best arrangement I can make.” “That will suit us,” replied Jerry. “Ned and I will bunk together.” “Very well; if you will follow my man he will escort you to your rooms,” went on the Mexican. “Perhaps the professor will sit up and smoke.” The naturalist said he never smoked, and, besides, he was so tired that bed was the best place for him. So he followed the boys, and soon the travelers were lighted to their several apartments. Ned and Jerry found themselves together, the professor had a room at one end of a long gangway and Bob an apartment at the other end. Good-nights were called, and the adventurers prepared to get whatever rest they might. As Ned and Jerry were getting undressed they heard a low knock on their door. “Who’s there?” asked Jerry. “Hush! Not so loud!” came in cautious tones. “This is Jones. Keep your guns handy, that’s all. I can’t tell you any more,” and then the boys heard him moving away. “Well, I must say that’s calculated to induce sleep,” remarked Ned. “Keep your guns handy! I wonder if we’ve fallen into a robber’s den?” “I don’t like the looks of things,” commented Jerry. “The Don may be all right, and probably is, but he has a lot of ugly-looking Mexicans on his boat. I guess we’ll watch out. I hope Jones will warn the others.” There came a second knock on the door. “What is it?” called Jerry, in a whisper. “I’ve warned your friends,” replied Jones. “Now watch out. I can’t say any more.” His footsteps died away down the gangway. Jerry and Ned looked at each other. “I guess we’ll sit up the rest of the night,” said Ned. They started their vigil. But they were very tired and soon, before either of them knew it, they were nodding. Several times they roused themselves, but nature at length gained the mastery and soon they were both stretched out asleep on the bed. About three o’clock in the morning there came a cautious trying of the door of the room where Ned and Jerry were sleeping. Soft footsteps sounded outside. If ever the boys needed to be awake it was now, for there was a thief in the night stealing in upon them. Chapter VI. - Into the Wilderness (41-49) risk river scenery topography forest CHAPTER VI. INTO THE WILDERNESS. Jerry had a curious dream. He thought he was back in Cresville and was playing a game of ball. He had reached second base safely and was standing there when the player on the other side grabbed him by his belt and began to pull him away. “Here! Stop that! It’s not in the game!” exclaimed Jerry, struggling to get away. So real was the effort that he awakened. He looked up, and there, standing over him in the darkness, was a dim form. “Silence!” hissed a voice. “One move and I’ll kill you. Remain quiet and you shall not be harmed!” Jerry had sense enough to obey. He was wide awake now and knew that he was at the mercy of a Mexican robber. The man was struggling to undo the lad’s money-belt about his waist, and it was this that had caused the boy’s vivid dream. Jerry had been kicking his feet about rather freely, but now he stretched out and submitted to the mauling to which the robber was subjecting him. If only Ned would awake, Jerry thought, for Ned, he knew, had his revolver ready in his hand. With a yank the thief took off Jerry’s belt containing the money. “Lie still or you die!” the fellow exclaimed. Then he moved over to where Ned reclined on the bed. Jerry could see more plainly now, for the storm had ceased, the moon had risen and a stray beam came in the side window of the house-boat. The robber stretched out his hand to Ned’s waist. He was about to reach under the coat and unbuckle the money-belt, when Ned suddenly sat upright. In his hand he held his revolver, which he pointed full in the face of the marauder. “Drop that knife!” exclaimed Ned, for the Mexican held a sharp blade in his hand. “Bah!” the fellow exclaimed, but the steel fell with a clang to the floor. “Now lay the money-belt on the bed, if you don’t want me to shoot!” said the boy, pushing the cold steel of the weapon against the Mexican’s face. “Pardon, señor, it was all a joke! Don’t shoot!” the fellow uttered, in a trembling voice, at the same time tossing the belt over to Jerry, who had drawn his own revolver from under the pillow where he had placed it. “Light the candle, Jerry,” went on Ned, “while I keep him covered with the gun. We’ll see what sort of a chap he is.” risk Jerry rose to find matches. But the robber did not wait for this. With a bound he leaped to the window. One jump took him through, and a second later a splash in the river outside told how he had escaped. Ned ran to the casement and fired two shots, not with any intention of hitting the man, but to arouse his friends. In an instant there was confused shouting, lights gleamed in several rooms, and Don Alvarzo came hurrying in. “What’s the matter? What is it all about? Is any one killed?” he cried. “Nothing much has happened,” said Ned, as coolly as possible under the circumstances. “A burglar got in the room and got out again.” “A burglar? A thief? Impossible! In my house-boat? Where did he go? Did he get anything?” “He got Jerry’s money-belt,” said Ned, “but——” “A money-belt! Santa Maria! Was there much in it?” and Ned thought he saw a gleam come into the Don’s eyes. “Oh, he didn’t get it to keep!” went on Jerry. “We both fell asleep, and the fellow robbed Jerry first. I was awakened by feeling Jerry accidentally kick me. I saw the robber take his belt, but when he came for mine I was ready for him. I made him give Jerry’s back——” “Made him give it back!” exclaimed Don Alvarzo, and Ned fancied he detected disappointment in his host’s face. “You are a brave lad. Where did the fiend go?” “Out of the window,” answered Ned. “I fired at him to give him a scare.” “I am disgraced that such a thing should happen in my house!” exclaimed the Don, and this time it was Jerry who noticed Jones, the American manager, winking one eye as he stood behind his employer. “I am disgraced,” went on the Mexican. “But never mind, I shall inform the authorities and they will hang every robber they catch to please me.” “I’m robbed! I’m robbed!” exclaimed Professor Snodgrass, bursting into the room. He was attired in blue pajamas, and his bald head was shining in the candle light. “What did they get from you?” asked the Don, his face once more showing interest. “The rascals took three fine specimens of sand fleas from me!” exclaimed the naturalist. “The loss is irreparable!” “Diablo!” exclaimed the Don, under his breath. “Three sand fleas! Ah, these crazy Americanos!” “I fancy you can get more, Professor,” said Jones, with a laugh. “Well, there seems to be no great damage done. I reckon we can all go back to bed now.” The servants, who had been aroused by the commotion, went back to their rooms. In a little while the Don, with many and profuse apologies, withdrew, and the professor and Bob returned to their apartments. Jones was the last to go. “I told you to be on the watch,” he whispered, as he prepared to leave. “I overheard some of the rascals making up a game to relieve you of some of your cash. I wouldn’t say the Don was in on it, but the sooner you get out of this place the better. You can go to sleep now. There is no more danger. Lucky one of you happened to wake up in time or you’d have been cleaned out. Good-night.” “Good-night,” said Ned and Jerry, as they locked their door, which had been opened by false keys. They went to bed and slept soundly until daybreak, in spite of the excitement. Nor were they disturbed again. Don Alvarzo talked of nothing but the attempted robbery the next morning at breakfast. He declared he had sent one of his men post-haste to inform the authorities, who, he said, would dispatch a troop of soldiers to search for the miscreant. “I am covered with confusion that my guests should be so insulted,” he said. But, somehow, his voice did not ring true. The boys and the professor, however, thanked him for his consideration and hospitality. “I think we must be traveling now,” announced Jerry. “Will you not pass another night under my roof?” asked the Don. “I promise you that you will not be awakened by robbers again.” “No, thank you,” said Jerry. Afterward, he said the Don might carry out his promise too literally, and take means to prevent them from waking if thieves did enter their rooms. So, amid protestations that he was disappointed at the shortness of their stay, and begging them to come and see him again, the Don said farewell. “I think, perhaps, we ought to pay for the damage to your boat,” said Jerry, not wishing to be under any obligations to the Mexican. “Do not insult me, I beg of you!” exclaimed the Don, and he really seemed so hurt that Jerry did not press it. Then, with a toot of the horn, the auto started off on the trip through Mexico. It was a beautiful day, and the boys were enchanted with the scenery. Behind them lay the broad Rio Grande, while off to the right were the foothills that increased in height and size until they became the mighty mountains. The foliage was deep green from the recent shower, and the sun shone, making the whole country appear a most delightful place. sound car part pleasure scenery river topography mountain forest “It looked as if our entrance into Mexico was not going to be very pleasant,” said Jerry, “especially during the storm and the smash-up with the house-boat. But to-day it couldn’t be better.” “That was a close call you and Ned had,” put in Bob. “I wonder why they didn’t tackle me?” “Because you are so good-natured-looking the robbers knew you never had any money,” replied Jerry, with a laugh. “I wonder what Chunky would have done if a Mexican brigand had demanded his money-belt?” “He could have had it without me making a fuss,” replied the stout youth. “Money is a good thing, but I think more of myself than half a dozen money-belts.” “Ah, my poor fleas!” exclaimed the professor. “I wonder if the robber killed them.” “I guess they hopped away,” suggested Ned. “No, they would never leave me,” went on the naturalist. “Well, I’m glad I haven’t such an intimate acquaintance with them as that,” commented Jerry, with a laugh. “Oh, they were tame. They never bit me once,” the professor said, with pride in his voice. With Ned at the steering-wheel, the auto made good time. The road was a fair one, skirting the edge of a vast plain for several miles. About noon the path led into a dense forest, where there was barely room for the machine to pass the thick trees and vines that bordered the way on either side. “I hope we don’t get caught in this wilderness,” said Ned, making a skilful turn to avoid a fallen tree. “Supposing we stop now and get dinner,” suggested Jerry. “It’s past noon, and I’m hungry.” The plan was voted a good one. The portable stove that burned gasolene was set going, coffee was made and some canned chicken was warmed in a frying pan. With some seasoning and frijoles Don Alvarzo had given them the boys made an excellent meal. road condition driver forest tree plant skill risk gasoline car part After a rest beneath the trees the boys started off in their auto again. The road widened when they had gone a few miles, and improved so that traveling was easier. About dusk they came to a small village, in the centre of which was a comfortable-looking inn. “How will that do to stop at overnight?” asked Ned. “First rate,” answered Jerry. The auto was steered into the yard, and the proprietor of the place came out, bowing and smiling. “Your friends have just preceded you, señors,” he said. “Our friends?” asked Jerry, in surprise. “Si, señor. Don Nixon and Don Pender. They were here not above an hour ago. I think they must be your friends, because they were in the same sort of an engine as yourselves.” “Noddy Nixon here!” exclaimed Jerry. road condition forest parking pleasure car model Chapter VII. - A Fierce Fight (50-57) risk health weapon CHAPTER VII. A FIERCE FIGHT. The boys glanced at each other in blank astonishment. As for Professor Snodgrass, he was too occupied with chasing a little yellow tree-toad to pay much attention to anything but the pursuit of specimens. “We seem bound to cross the trail of Noddy sooner or later,” remarked Ned. “Well, if he’s ahead of us he can’t be behind, that’s one consolation.” “Will the honorable señors be pleased to enter my poor inn?” spoke the Mexican, bowing low. “I suppose we may as well stop here,” said Jerry, in a low tone to his companions. “It looks like a decent place, and it will give Noddy a chance to get a good way ahead, which is what we want. But I don’t see what he means by going on when it will soon be night.” The auto was run under a shed, its appearance causing some fright among the servants and a few travelers, who began to mutter their prayers in Spanish. The boys, escorted by the Mexican, then entered the hostelry. It was a small but decent-looking place, as Jerry had said. The boys were shown to rooms where, washing off some of the grime of their journey, they felt better. parking religion pedestrian nationality “Supper is ready,” announced the innkeeper, who spoke fairly good English. “Where is the professor?” asked Ned, as the boys descended to the dining-room. “The last I saw of him he was climbing up the tree after that toad,” answered Bob. “But here he comes now.” The naturalist came hurrying into the room, clasping something in his hand. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” he shouted. “A perfect beauty!” The professor opened his fingers slightly to peer at his prize, when the toad, taking advantage of the opportunity, hopped on the floor and was rapidly escaping. “Oh, oh, he’s got away!” the professor exclaimed. “Help me catch him, everybody! He’s worth a thousand dollars!” The naturalist got down on his hands and knees and began crawling after the hopping tree-toad, while the boys could not restrain their laughter. A crowd of servants gathered in the doorway to watch the antics of the strange Americano. “There! I have you again, my beauty!” cried the professor, pouncing on his specimen in a corner of the room. “You shall not escape again!” and with that he popped the toad into a small specimen box which he always wore strapped on his back. “Tell me,” began the innkeeper, in a low tone, sidling up to Jerry, “is your elderly friend, the bald-headed señor, is he—ah—um—is he a little, what you Americanos call—er—wheels?” and he moved his finger with a circular motion in front of his forehead. “Not in the least,” replied the boy. “He is only collecting specimens for his college.” The Mexican shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands in an apologetic sort of way, but it was easy to see that he believed Professor Snodgrass insane, an idea that was shared by all the servants in the inn, for not one of them, during the adventurers’ brief stay in the hotel, would approach him without muttering a prayer. “I wonder what we’ll have to eat?” asked Ned, as with the others he prepared to sit down. The innkeeper clapped his hands, which signal served in lieu of a bell for the servants. In a little while a meal of fish, eggs, chocolate and chicken, with the ever-present frijoles and tortillas, was served. It tasted good to the hungry lads, though as Jerry remarked he would have preferred it just as much if there hadn’t been so much red pepper and garlic in everything. “Water! Water! Quick!” cried Bob, after taking a generous mouthful of frijoles, which contained an extra amount of red pepper. “My mouth is on fire!” He swallowed a tumblerful of liquid before he had eased the smart caused by the fiery condiment. Thereafter he was careful to taste each dish with a little nibble before he indulged too freely. In spite of these drawbacks, the boys enjoyed their experience, and were interested in the novelty of everything they saw. “I wonder how we are to sleep?” said Jerry, after the meal was over. “I’ve heard that Mexican beds were none of the best.” “You shall sleep the sleep of the just, señors,” broke in the Mexican hotel keeper, coming up just as Jerry spoke. “My inn is full, every room is occupied, but you shall sleep en el sereno.” “Well, as long as it’s on a good bed in a room where the mosquitoes can’t get in I shan’t mind that,” spoke Bob. “I don’t know as I care much for scenery, but if it goes with the bed, why, all right.” “You’ll sleep in no room to-night,” said Professor Snodgrass, who for the moment was not busy hunting specimens. “By ‘en el sereno’ our friend means that you must sleep out of doors, under the stars. It is often done in this country. They put the beds out in the courtyard or garden and throw a mosquito net over them.” “That’s good enough,” said Bob. “It won’t be the first time we’ve slept in the open. Bring on the ‘en el sereno,’” and he laughed, the innkeeper joining in. The beds for the travelers were soon made up. They consisted of light cots of wood, with a few blankets on them. Placed out in the courtyard, under the trees, with the sky for a roof, the sleeping-places were indeed in the open. But the boys and Professor Snodgrass had no fault to find. They had partaken of a good meal, they were tired with their day’s journey, and about nine o’clock voted to turn in. “We’ll keep our revolvers handy this time,” said Bob, “though I guess we won’t need ’em.” “Can’t be too sure,” was Ned’s opinion, as he took off his shoes and placed his weapon under his pillow. It was not long before snores told that the travelers were sound asleep. For several hours the inn bustled with life, for the Mexicans did not seem to care much about rest. At length the place became quiet, and at midnight there was not a sound to be heard, save the noises of the forest, which was no great distance away, and the vibrations caused by the breathing of the slumberers. It was about two o’clock in the morning when Bob was suddenly awakened by feeling a hand passed lightly over his face. “Here!” he cried. “Get out of that!” “Silence!” hissed a voice in his ear. But Bob was too frightened to keep quiet. He gave a wild yell and tried to struggle to his feet. Some one thrust him back on the cot, and rough hands tried to rip off his money-belt. The boy fought fiercely, and struck out with both fists. “Wake up, Jerry and Ned!” he yelled. “We’re being robbed. Shoot ’em!” The courtyard became a scene of wild commotion. It was dark, for the moon was covered with clouds, but as Jerry and Ned sat up, alarmed by Bob’s voice, they could detect dim forms moving about among the trees. “The Mexicans are robbing us!” shouted Ned. He drew his revolver and fired in the air for fear of hitting one of his comrades. By the light of the weapon’s flash he saw a man close to him. Bob aimed the pistol in the fellow’s face and pulled the trigger. There was a report, followed by a loud yell. At the same time a thousand stars seemed to dance before Ned’s eyes, and he fell back, knocked unconscious by a hard blow. Jerry had sprung to his feet, to be met by a blow in the face from a brawny fist. He quickly recovered himself, however, and grappled with his assailant. He found he was but an infant in the hands of a strong man. The boy tried to reach for his revolver, but just as his hand touched the butt of the weapon he received a stinging blow on the head and he toppled over backward, his senses leaving him. In the meanwhile Bob was still struggling with the robber who had attacked him. Fleshy as he was, Bob had considerable strength, and he wrestled with the fellow. They both fell to the ground and rolled over. In their struggles they got underneath one of the beds. “Let me go!” yelled Bob. At that instant he felt the ear of his enemy come against his mouth. The boy promptly seized the member in his teeth and bit it hard enough to make the fellow howl for mercy. Bob suddenly found himself released, and the robber, with a parting blow that made the boy’s head sing, rolled away from under the bed and took to his heels. “Help! help! help!” cried Professor Snodgrass, as Bob tried to sit upright, for it was under the bed of the naturalist that the boy had rolled. In straightening up he had tipped the scientist, who, up to this point, had been sleeping soundly on the cot. “What is it? What has happened? Is it a fire? Has an earthquake occurred? Is the river rising? Has a tidal wave come in? Santa Maria! But what is all the noise about?” cried the landlord, rushing into the courtyard, bearing an ancient lantern. “What has happened, señors? Was your rest disturbed?” “Was our rest disturbed?” inquired Bob, in as sarcastic a tone as possible under the circumstances. “Well, I would say yes! A band of robbers attacked us.” “A band of robbers! Santa Maria! Impossible! There are no robbers in Mexico!” and the innkeeper began to chatter volubly in Spanish. Chapter VIII. - The Old Mexican (58-65) forest magic navigation scenery CHAPTER VIII. THE OLD MEXICAN. “Well, if they weren’t robbers they were a first-class imitation,” responded Bob. “There’s Jerry and Ned knocked out, at any rate, and they nearly did for me. They would have, only I bit the chap’s ear. I guess I’ll know him again; he has my mark on him.” “Bit his ear! The Americano is brave! But we must see to the poor unfortunate señors! Robbers! Impossible!” By this time the whole inn was aroused and the courtyard was filled with servants and guests. Water was brought and with it Jerry and Ned were revived. “What happened?” began Jerry. “Oh, I remember now! Did they get our money?” “I guess they got yours and Ned’s,” said Bob, in sorrowful tones, as he noted his chums’ disordered clothing and saw that the money-belts were gone. “They didn’t get mine, though, so we’re not in such bad luck, after all. How do you feel?” “As if a road-roller had gone over me,” replied Jerry. “Same here,” put in Ned, holding his head in his hands. “He must have given me a pretty good whack. Who was it robbed us?” “Are you sure you were robbed, señors?” asked the hotel keeper. “Perhaps you may have been dreaming.” “Does that look as if it was only a nightmare?” asked Ned, showing a big lump on his head. “Or this?” added Jerry, showing his clothing cut with a knife where the robber had slashed it in order to take out the money-belt. “No, it was not a dream,” murmured the innkeeper. “There must have been robbers here. I wonder who they were?” “They didn’t leave their cards, so it’s hard to say,” remarked Jerry. “I don’t suppose the burglars down here are in the habit of sending word in advance of their visit, or of telling the police where to find them after they commit a crime.” “Never! Never!” exclaimed the Mexican host. “But speaking of the police, I must tell them about this some time to-morrow.” “Any time will do,” put in Ned. “We’re in no hurry, you know.” “I am glad of that,” said the hotel keeper, in all seriousness. “Most Americanos are in such a rush, and I have to go to market to-morrow. The next day will do very well. I thank you, señors. Now I bid you good-night, and pleasant dreams.” “Well, he certainly does take things easy,” said Jerry, when the innkeeper and his servants, with many polite bows, had withdrawn. “He don’t seem to care much whether we were nearly killed or not. I guess this must be a regular occurrence down here.” “I always heard the Mexican brigands were terrible fellows,” said Professor Snodgrass. “Now I am sure of it. I am glad they did not get any of my specimens, however. All my treasures are safe.” “But Ned and I have lost five hundred dollars each,” put in Jerry. “You can get more from the gold mine,” went on the professor. “Yes; but it may spoil our trip,” said Ned. “I have my five hundred dollars,” said Bob. “And I have nearly one thousand in bills,” spoke the professor, in a whisper. “We will have enough. The robbers would never suspect me of carrying money. Listen; it is in the box with the big lizard and the bat, and no one will ever look there for it,” and he chuckled in silent glee. “Then I guess we can go on,” said Jerry. “But I wonder who it was robbed us?” “I suppose it was the Mexican brigands that hang about every hotel,” said Ned. “I’m not so sure of that,” went on Jerry. “You know Noddy Nixon and his crowd are not far off. It may have been they.” “That’s so; I never thought of them,” said Ned. “Did you recognize any one?” “The fellow who grappled with me had a mask on,” said Jerry. “But I thought I recognized that fellow Dalsett. However, I couldn’t be sure.” “I didn’t get a chance to see my man,” Ned added. “The fellow who came for me had a voice like Bill Berry’s,” put in Bob. “If I could see his ear I could soon tell.” “It will be a good while before you see his ear,” continued Jerry. “I wonder if it was Nixon’s crowd, or only ordinary robbers? If we are to be attacked by Noddy and his gang all the way through Mexico the trip will not be very pleasant.” “Well, there’s only one thing certain, and that is, the money-belts are gone,” put in Ned, gazing ruefully at his waist around which he had strapped his cash. “The next question is, who took them?” “Which same question is likely to remain unanswered for some time,” interrupted Professor Snodgrass. “Now, don’t worry, boys. We are still able to continue on our search for the buried city. This will teach us a lesson not to go to sleep again unless some one is on guard. The money loss is nothing compared to the possibility that one of us might have been killed, or some of my specimens stolen. Now we had better all go to bed again.” “Shall we stand guard for the remainder of the night?” asked Bob. “I think it will not be necessary,” spoke the professor. “The robbers are not likely to return.” So, extinguishing the lantern which the innkeeper had left, the travelers once more sought their cots, on which they had a somewhat fitful rest until morning. At breakfast the innkeeper urged the travelers to spend a few days at his hotel, saying he had sent for a Government officer to come and make an investigation of the robbery. But the boys and the professor, thanking their host for his invitation, called for their bill, settled it, and were soon puffing away through the forest once more. forest law For several hours they journeyed on beneath giant palms which lined either side of the road. The scenery was one unending vista of green, in which mingled brilliant-hued flowers. Wild parrots and other birds flitted through the trees and small animals rustled through the underbrush as the automobile dashed by. Jerry was at the steering wheel and was sending the car along at a good clip, when, as he suddenly rounded a curve he shut off the power and applied the brakes. Not a moment too soon was he, for he stopped the machine only a few feet from an aged Mexican, who was traveling along the road, aiding his faltering steps with a large, wooden staff. forest scenery animal tree plant speed driver risk pedestrian road The Mexican glanced at the auto which, with throbbing breath, as the engine still continued to vibrate, seemed to fill him with terror. Suddenly he dropped to his knees and began to pray. “Be not afraid,” Professor Snodgrass called to him, speaking in the Spanish language. “We are but poor travelers like yourself. We will not harm you.” “Whence do you come in your chariot of fire?” asked the old man. “Ye are demons and no true men!” “We will not hurt you,” said the naturalist, again. “See, we bring you gifts,” and he held out to the Mexican a package of tobacco and a small hand-mirror. The old man’s eyes brightened at the sight of them. He rose to his feet and took them, though his hands trembled. pedestrian metaphor religion pleasure In a moment he had rolled a cigarette of the tobacco, and, puffing out great clouds of smoke, complacently gazed at his image in the looking-glass. “Truly ye are men and not demons,” he said. “The tobacco is very good. But whence come ye, and whither do ye go?” “We are travelers from a far land,” answered the professor. “Whither we go we scarcely know. We are searching for the unknown.” The aged Mexican started. Then he gazed fixedly at the professor. “It may be that I can tell whither ye journey,” he said. “For your kindness to me I am minded to look into the future for you. Shall I?” “No one can look into the future,” answered the naturalist. “No one knows what is going to happen.” For the professor was no believer in anything but what nature revealed to him. “Unbelievers! Unbelievers!” muttered the old man, blowing out a great cloud of smoke. “But ye shall see. I will read what is to happen for you.” He sat down at the side of the road. In the dust he drew a circle. This he divided into twelve parts, and in one he placed a small quantity of powder, which he took from his sash. The powder he lighted with a match. There was a patch of fire, and a cloud of yellow smoke. For an instant the old man was hidden from view. Then his voice was heard. “Ye seek the unknown, hidden and buried city of ancient Mexico!” he said, in startling tones. “And ye shall find it. Yea, find it sooner than ye think, and in a strange manner. Look behind ye!” Involuntarily the boys and the professor turned. “Nothing there,” grunted Ned, as he looked to where the old man had been seated. To his astonishment, as well as the surprise of the others, the aged Mexican had disappeared. Chapter IX. - A View of the Enemy (66-73) forest scenery temperature CHAPTER IX. A VIEW OF THE ENEMY. “Where is he?” cried Bob. “He must have gone down through a hole in the earth,” said Ned. “I didn’t have my eyes off him three seconds. He didn’t go down the road or we would have seen him, and he couldn’t have run into the bushes on either side without making a great racket. He’s a queer one.” “Just like the East Indian jugglers I’ve read about,” put in Jerry. “I think probably he was something on that order,” agreed Professor Snodgrass. “Strange how he should have known about the buried city, and we have spoken to no one about it since we came to Mexico.” “Let’s look and see if we can find a trace of him,” suggested Bob. The boys alighted from the car. They made a careful search around the spot where the old man had sat. There was the circle he had drawn in the dust, and the mark where the powder had burned, but not another trace of the Mexican could they find. They looked behind trees and rocks, but all they found was big toads and lizards that hopped and crawled away as they approached. The professor annexed several of the reptiles for specimens. “How do you explain it all?” asked Jerry of the naturalist, when they had taken their seats in the automobile again. “Have those men any supernatural powers?” “I do not believe they have,” replied the professor. “They do some things that are hard to explain, but they are sharp enough to do their tricks under their own conditions, and they disappear before those who can see them have gotten over their momentary surprise.” “The disappearing was the funny part of it,” went on Jerry. “I can understand how he made the smoke. A pinch of gunpowder would produce that. But how did he dissolve himself into thin air?” “He didn’t,” replied the naturalist. “I’ll tell you how that was done. It is a favorite trick in India. When he suddenly called to us to look behind us he took advantage of our momentary glance away to hide himself.” “But where?” “Behind that big rock,” and the naturalist pointed to a large one near where the Mexican had been sitting. “But we looked behind that,” said Ned. “Yes, several minutes after the disappearance,” went on the professor, with a laugh. “This was how he did it: He wore a long, gray cloak, which, perhaps, you didn’t notice. It was exactly the color of the stone and was partly draped over it. It was there all the while he was doing his trick. I saw it, but thought nothing of it at the time. Now, when he had finished the hocus-pocus, and when our heads were turned, he just rolled himself up into a ball and got under the cloak by the stone. Of course, it looked as if he had dropped down through the earth.” “But how about him getting away so completely that our search didn’t reveal him?” asked Jerry. “I think he waited a while and then, when he heard us getting out of the automobile he took advantage of the confusion to crawl, still under his cloak, into the bushes, perhaps by a path he alone knew. There really is no mystery to it.” “How about him telling us we were searching for the buried city?” asked Bob. “Wasn’t that mind-reading?” “I think he knew that part of it,” said the professor, “though it seemed strange to me at first. You must remember that the object of our trip was pretty freely talked of back in the gold camp. Some one may have come here from there before we started, and, in some manner, this old Mexican may have heard of us. He may even have been waiting for us. No; it looks queer when it happens, but reasoned out, it is natural enough. However, I am glad to know we are on the right road and will find what we are searching for, though the old man may be mistaken.” “Shall we go forward again?” asked Jerry, resuming his place at the steering wheel. “Forward it is!” cried Ned. “Ho, for the buried city!” Once more the auto puffed along the forest road. It was warm with the heat of the tropics, and the boys were soon glad to take off their coats and collars. Even with the breeze created by the movement of the machine, it was oppressive. “I say, when are we going to eat?” asked Bob. “I know it’s long past noon.” “Wrong for once, Chunky,” answered Ned, looking at his watch. “It’s only eleven o’clock.” “Well, here’s a good place to stop and eat, anyhow,” went on the stout lad, to whom eating never came amiss. “All right, we’ll camp,” put in Jerry, bringing the machine to a stop. driver forest wind temperature parking car part It was rather pleasant in the shade of the forest in spite of the heat, and the boys enjoyed it very much. The gasolene stove was lighted and Ned made some chocolate, for, since their advent into Mexico the travelers had come to like this beverage, which almost every one down in that country drinks. With this and some frijoles and cold chicken brought from the inn, they made a good meal. “I’m going to hunt for some specimens,” announced the professor. “You boys can rest here for an hour or so.” With his green collecting box and his butterfly net the naturalist disappeared along a path that led through the forest. “I suppose he’ll come back with a blue-nosed baboon or a flat-headed gila monster,” said Ned. “He does find the queerest things.” It was almost an hour later, when the boys were wondering what had become of the naturalist, that they heard faint shouts in the direction he had taken. “Hurry, boys!” the professor’s voice called. “Hurry! Help! help! I’m caught!” “He’s in trouble again!” exclaimed Ned. “We must go to his rescue!” “Have you got your revolver?” asked Jerry, as Ned was about to rush away. “No; it’s in the auto.” “Better get it. I’ll take a rifle along. Bob, you bring the rope. No telling what has happened, and we may need all three.” With rifle, revolver and rope the three boys rushed into the forest to the rescue of their friend. They could hear his shouts more plainly now. “Hurry or he’ll kill me!” cried the professor. Running at top speed the boys emerged into a sort of clearing. There they saw a sight that filled them with terror. Professor Snodgrass was standing underneath a tree, from one of the lower branches of which a big snake had dropped its sinuous folds about him. The reptile was slowly winding its coils about the unfortunate man, tightening and tightening them. Its ugly head was within a few feet of the professor’s face, and the man was striking at the snake with the butterfly net. “We’re coming! We’ll save you!” shouted Jerry. The boy started to run close to the naturalist, intending to get near enough to fire at the snake’s head without danger of hitting the professor. “Look out!” yelled Bob, pointing to the ground in front of the tree. “There’s another of the reptiles!” As he spoke a second snake reared its head from the grass, right in the path Jerry would have taken. Bob had warned him just in time. Jerry dropped to one knee. He took quick but careful aim at the snake on the ground and fired. The reptile thrashed about in a death struggle, for the bullet had crashed through its head. “Now for the other one!” cried Jerry. He ran in close to the reptile that was slowly crushing the professor to death. The unfortunate naturalist could no longer cry for help, so weak was he. Jerry placed the muzzle of the rifle close to the snake’s head, and pulled the trigger. The ugly folds relaxed, the long, sinuous body straightened out and the professor would have fallen had not Jerry, dropping his gun, caught him. The other boys came to his aid, and they carried the naturalist to one side and placed him on the grass. Bringing water from a nearby spring, Bob soon restored the professor to his senses. “I’m all right,” said the collector in a few minutes. “The breath was about squeezed out of me, though.” “You had a narrow escape,” said Ned. “Thanks to you boys, it ended fortunately,” said the naturalist. “You see, I was trying to capture a new kind of tree-toad, and I didn’t see the snake until it had me in its folds. I’ll be more careful next time.” In a little while the professor was able to walk. Jerry recovered his gun and the whole party made their way back to the auto. The camp utensils were soon packed up and the journey was resumed. “I wonder what sort of an inn we’ll stop at to-night?” said Bob. “I hope they don’t have any robbers.” “We won’t run any chances,” spoke Ned. “We’ll post a guard.” For several hours the auto chugged along. As it came to the top of a hill the boys saw below them quite a good-sized village. “There’s where we’ll spend the night,” remarked Jerry. “Hello! What’s that?” and he pointed to some object round a turn of the road, just ahead of them. “It looks like an automobile,” said the professor. “It is!” cried Ned. “And Noddy Nixon is in it!” equipment risk topography city car model Chapter X. - Some Tricks in Magic (74-81) city magic nationality CHAPTER X. SOME TRICKS IN MAGIC. “You don’t mean it!” exclaimed the professor. “Noddy Nixon, the young man who made all the trouble for us! I thought we had seen the last of him.” “I hoped we had,” said Jerry. “But you can’t always get what you want in this world.” “No, indeed! There is a purple grasshopper I’ve been hunting for for nearly five years, and I never found it!” spoke the naturalist. “I wonder if Noddy saw us?” asked Ned. “It doesn’t make much difference,” was Bob’s opinion. “He’ll run across us sooner or later. If he stops in the same village we do he’s sure to hear about us.” “Then we may as well put up overnight in this town,” said Jerry, sending the machine ahead again. Though the boys kept a close watch, they saw no more of Noddy, for his automobile disappeared around a turn of the road. When the red touring car came up to the village, such a crowd of curious Mexicans surrounded the auto that the occupants had difficulty in descending. “I guess Noddy couldn’t have come here, or these people wouldn’t be so curious about our car,” said Bob. “Oh, you can depend on it, he’s somewhere in the neighborhood,” was Ned’s opinion. city pedestrian nationality car model The keeper of the tavern, running out, bowed low to the prospective guests. “Enter, señors!” he exclaimed. “You are welcome a thousand times. The whole place is yours.” “Will you guarantee that there are no robbers?” asked Jerry. “Robbers, señors? Not one of the rascals within a thousand miles!” “And will my bugs, snakes and specimens be safe?” asked the professor. “Bugs and snakes! Santa Maria! What do you want of such reptiles? Of course they will be safe. The most wretched thief, of which there are none here, would not so much as lay a finger on them.” “Then we will stay,” said the naturalist. “Out of the way, dogs, cattle, swine, pigs and beasts!” cried the innkeeper, brushing the crowd aside. “Let the noble señors enter!” At these words, spoken in fierce tones, though mine host was smiling the while, the throng parted, and the boys, accompanied by the professor, made their way to the inn. It was not long before supper was served. There were the frijoles and tortillas, without which no Mexican meal of ordinary quality is complete, but the adventurers had not yet become used to this food. Then, too, there was delicious chocolate, such as can be had nowhere but in Mexico. While the meal was in progress the travelers noticed that there was considerable excitement about the inn. Crowds of people seemed to be going and coming, all of them talking loudly, and most of them laughing. “What is it all about?” asked Jerry. “To-day is a fête day,” replied the innkeeper. “No one has worked, and to-night there is an entertainment in the village square. Every one will attend. It will be a grand sight.” “What sort of entertainment?” “I know only what I heard, that a most wonderful magician will do feats. Ah, some of those performers are very imps of darkness!” and the man muttered a prayer beneath his breath. “That sounds interesting. Let’s go,” suggested Bob. “I haven’t any objection,” said Jerry. “Will you go, Professor?” “I will go anywhere where there is a chance I may add to the stock of scientific knowledge,” replied the naturalist. “Lead on, I’ll follow.” The meal over, the boys and professor had only to follow the crowd in order to reach the public square. A centre space had been roped off, and in the middle of this a small tent was erected. On the payment of a small sum to some officials, who seemed to be acting as ushers, the travelers managed to get places in the front row. There they stood, surrounded by swarthy Mexican men, women and boys, waiting for the performance to begin. Suddenly from within the tent sounded some weird music: the shrill scraping of fiddle and the beat of tom-toms. Then a voice was heard chanting. A few seconds later a young man, dressed completely in white, stepped from the tent and sat down, cross-legged, on the ground. A score of flaring torches about him gave light, for it was now night. He spread a cloth on the ground, sprinkled a few drops of water on it, muttered some words, whisked away the covering, and there was a tiny dwarfed tree, its branches bearing fruit. “The old Indian mango trick!” exclaimed the professor. “I have seen it done better, many times.” The next trick was more elaborate. The youth in white clapped his hands and a boy came running from the tent. With him he brought a basket. The youth began to scold the boy, beating him with a stick. To escape the blows, the boy leaped into the basket. In a trice the youth clapped the cover on. Then drawing a sword at his side, the youth plunged it into the wicker-work several times. From the basket horrible cries came, growing fainter and fainter at each thrust of the weapon. With a cry of satisfaction the youth finally held his sword aloft. The boys could see that it ran red, as if with blood. “Has he stabbed him?” asked Bob, in frightened tones. “Watch,” said the professor, with a smile. The youth opened the basket. It was empty. The boy had disappeared. The youth gave a cry of astonishment, and gazed up into the starlit sky. Naturally, every one in the crowd gazed upward, likewise. All at once there was a cry from behind the youth, and the boy who had been in the basket, laughing and capering about as if being thrust through with a sword was the biggest joke in the world, moved among the assemblage, collecting coins in his cap. “Another old Indian trick,” said the professor. “He simply curled up close to the outer rim of the basket and the sword went through the middle, where his body formed a circle.” “But the blood!” exclaimed Bob. “The boy had a sponge wet with red liquid, and when the sword blade came through the basket he wiped the crimson stuff on it,” explained the professor. The tricks seemed to please the crowd very much, for few of them saw how they were done. The Mexicans cried for more. The youth and boy retired to the tent. Their place was taken by an old man, wrapped in a cloak. He produced a long rope, which he proceeded to knot about his body, tying himself closely. Then he signed for two of the spectators to take hold, one at either end of the cord, which extended from under his cloak. Two men did as he desired. Then the old man began a sort of chant. He waved his hands in the air. With a quick motion he threw something at one of the torches. A cloud of smoke arose. There was a wild cry from the two men who held the rope. When the vapor cleared away the magician was nowhere to be seen, though his cloak lay on the ground and the men still held the ends of the rope that had bound him. An instant later there came a laugh from a tree off to the left. Every one turned to look, and the old man jumped down from among the branches. “He tied fake knots,” said the professor. “While he was waving his hands he managed to undo them. Then he threw some powder in the torch flame, and while the smoke blinded every one he slipped out of his bonds and cloak, went through the crowd like a snake, and climbed a tree. The tricks are nothing to what I have seen in Egypt and India.” “Perhaps there is nothing wonderful but in India or Egypt,” spoke a voice at the professor’s elbow. He turned with a start, to see the old magician standing near him. The naturalist had not spoken aloud, yet it seemed that the Mexican had heard him. “There are stranger things in this land than in Egypt,” went on the trickster. “Buried cities are stranger. Buried cities, where there is much gold to be had and great riches.” “What do you know about buried cities?” asked the professor. “Ask him who sat in the road, who drew the circle in the dust. Ask him whom ye vainly sought,” replied the Mexican, with a laugh. The professor started. “It can’t be! Yes, it is. It’s the same Mexican we met before, and to whom I gave the tobacco,” said the naturalist. “Si, señor,” was the answer, as the old man bowed low. “And be assured that though you mock at my poor magic, yet I can look into the future for you. I tell you,” and he leaned over and whispered, “you shall soon find what you seek, the mysterious city. You are on the right road. Keep on. When ye reach a place where the path turns to the left, at the sign where ye shall see the laughing serpent, take that path. See, the stars tell that you will meet with good fortune.” With a dramatic gesture the old man pointed aloft. Involuntarily the professor and the boys looked up. Then, remembering the trick that had been played on them before, they looked for the Mexican. But he had disappeared. Chapter XI. - Noddy Nixon's Plot (82-89) night nationality forest CHAPTER XI. NODDY NIXON’S PLOT. “His old trick again,” murmured the professor. “I should have been on my guard. However, it doesn’t matter. But come on, boys. If we stand out here our plans will soon be known to every one.” The travelers went back to their hotel, but the crowds of people remained at the square, for there were other antics of the entertainers to follow. “I wonder if we’ll have to sleep ‘en el sereno’ to-night?” said Bob. “If we do, I’m going to stay awake.” “Yes, indeed; if they treat Chunky the way they did Jerry and myself, we’ll be stranded,” put in Ned. “Have you got it all right, Chunky?” What “it” was, Ned did not say; but Bob understood, and, feeling where his money-belt encircled his waist, nodded to indicate that it was still in place. The travelers found there was plenty of room in the hotel. They were given a large apartment with four beds in it, and told they could sleep there together. They found that the room had but one door to it, and all the windows were too high up to admit of easy entrance. So, building a barricade of chairs in front of the portal, the adventurers decided it would not be necessary to stand guard. If any one came into the apartment he would have to make noise enough to awaken the soundest sleeper. Thus protected, the travelers went to bed. Nor were their slumbers disturbed by the advent of any robbers. However, if they could have seen what was taking place in a small hut on the outskirts of the town, about midnight, they might not have slept as peacefully. Within a small adobe house, well concealed in a grove of trees, five figures were grouped around a table on which burned a candle stuck in a bottle. “I’ll make trouble for Jerry Hopkins and his friends yet,” spoke a youth, pounding the table with his fist. “That’s what you’re always saying, Noddy Nixon,” put in a man standing over in the shadow. “Well, I mean it this time, Tom Dalsett. We’d have put them out of business long ago if I’d had my way.” “Well, what are you going to do this time?” asked a lad, about Noddy’s age, whom, had the Motor Boys seen him, they would have at once known for Jack Pender, though he had become quite stout and bronzed by his travels. “I’ve got a plan,” went on Noddy. “I didn’t come over to Mexico for nothing.” “What do you s’pose they come for?” asked Bill Berry, who was busy cleaning his revolver. “To locate a silver mine, of course,” replied Noddy. “Ain’t that so, Vasco?” and Nixon turned to a slick-looking Mexican, who was rolling a cigarette. The fellow was a halfbreed, having some American blood in his veins. “Si, señor,” was the reply. “Trust Vasco Bilette for finding out things. I heard them talking about a mine.” “Of course; I told you so,” said Noddy. The truth of it was that Bilette had heard nothing of the sort, but thought it best to agree with Noddy. “I hope we have better luck getting in on this mine than we did on their gold mine,” said Pender. “Well, rather!” put in Dalsett. “Leave it to me,” went on Noddy. “I have a plan. And now do you fellows want to stay here all night or travel in the auto?” “Stay here,” murmured Bilette. “It is warm and comfortable. One can smoke here.” Then, as if that settled it, he rolled himself up in his blanket, and, with a last puff on his cigarette, he went to sleep on the floor. In a little while the others followed his example. Bilette slept better than any one, for he seemed to be used to the hordes of fleas that infested the hut. As for Noddy, he awakened several times because of the uncomfortableness of his bed. Finally he got up and went out to sit up the rest of the night on the cushioned seats of the automobile. night car part animal So far, the Nixon crowd had done nothing but ride on a sort of pleasure trip through Mexico. Noddy had managed to get some cash from home, and, with what Dalsett obtained by gambling, they managed to live. Shortly after crossing the Rio Grande River, Noddy had fallen in with a slick Mexican, Vasco Bilette by name, and had added him to his party. Bilette knew the country well, and was of considerable assistance. He seemed to have no particular occupation. Some evenings, when they would be near a large town, he would disappear. He always turned up in the morning with plenty of cash. How he got it he never said. pleasure river nationality navigation But once he returned with a knife wound in the hand, and again, limping slightly from a bullet in the leg. From which it might be inferred that Vasco used other than gentle and legitimate means of making a livelihood. But Noddy’s crowd was not one that asked embarrassing questions. With no particular object in view, Noddy had driven his car hither and thither. However, accidentally hearing that Jerry and his friends had come over into Mexico, Noddy determined to remain in their vicinity, learn their plans, and, if possible, thwart them to his own advantage. health navigation Fortunately, the boys and the professor, soundly sleeping at their inn, could not look into the future and see the dangers they were to run, all because of Noddy and his gang. If they could have, they might have turned back. Bright and early the next morning Professor Snodgrass awoke. He looked out of the window, saw that the sun was shining, and rejoiced that the day was to be pleasant. Then he happened to spy a new kind of a fly buzzing around the room. “Ah, I must have you!” exclaimed the naturalist, unlimbering his insect net. “Easy now, easy!” On tiptoes he began encircling the room after the fly. The buzzer seemed in no mood to be caught, and the professor made several ineffectual attempts to ensnare it. Finally the insect lighted on Bob’s nose, as the boy still slumbered. “Now I have you!” the professor cried. He forgot that Bob might have some feelings, and thinking only of the rare fly, he brought the net down smartly on Bob’s countenance. “Help! Help! Robbers! Thieves!” shouted the boy. “Keep still! Don’t move! I have it now!” yelled the professor, gathering up his net with the fly in it. “Ah, there you are, my little beauty!” Ned and Jerry tumbled out of their beds, Ned with his revolver ready in his hand. “Oh, I thought it was some one after my money-belt,” said Bob, when his eyes were fully opened and he saw the professor. “Sorry to disturb you,” said the naturalist. “But it’s in the interest of science, my dear young friend, and science is no respecter of persons.” “Nor of my nose, either,” observed Bob, rubbing his proboscis with a rueful countenance. There came a loud pounding at the door. “Who’s there?” asked Jerry. “’Tis I, the landlord,” was the answer. “What is it? Have the brigands come? Is the place on fire? Why did the señor yell, as if some one had stuck a knife into him?” “It was only me,” called Bob. “The professor caught a new kind of fly on my nose.” “A fly! On your nose! Diablo! Those Americanos! They are crazy!” the innkeeper muttered as he went away. “Well, we’re up; I suppose we may as well stay up,” said Ned, stretching and yawning. “My, but I did sleep good!” They all agreed that the night’s sleep had been a restful one. They dressed, had breakfast, and, in spite of the entreaties of the landlord to stay a few days, they were soon on the road in the automobile. “I’m glad to know we are on the right path,” said the professor, after several miles had been covered. “I only hope that old Mexican was not joking with us.” “What was that he said about turning to the left?” asked Ned. “We are to turn when we come to the place where the laughing monkey is,” said Bob. “Serpent was what he said,” observed Jerry. “The laughing serpent. I wonder what that can be. I never saw a snake laugh.” “It might be a figure of speech, or he may have meant there is a stone image carved in that design set up to mark a road,” spoke the professor. “However, we shall see.” navigation nationality animal Dinner was eaten in a little glade beside a small brook, where some fish were caught. Then, while the boys stretched out on the grass, the professor, who was never idle, took a small rifle and said he would go into the forest and see if he could not get a few specimens. “Look out for snakes!” called Ned. “I will,” replied the naturalist, remembering his former experience. About an hour later, when Jerry was just beginning to think it was time to start off, the stillness of the forest was broken by a terrible and blood-curdling yell. “A tiger!” cried Bob. “There are no tigers here,” said Jerry. “But it’s some wild beast!” The yell was repeated. Then came a crashing of the underbrush, followed by a wild call for help. “That’s the professor!” cried Jerry, seizing his rifle. Chapter XII. - Noddy Schemes with Mexicans (90-97) animal risk weapon nationality CHAPTER XII. NODDY SCHEMES WITH MEXICANS. The boys crashed through the bushes and under the low branches of trees in the direction of the professor’s voice. They could hear him more plainly now. “Help! Help! Come quick!” the naturalist cried. The sight that met the boys’ eyes when they came out into a little clearing of the forest was at once calculated to amuse and alarm them. They saw the professor clinging to the tail of a mountain lion, the beast being suspended over a low tree-limb, with the naturalist hanging on one side of the branch and the animal on the other, the brute in the air and the professor on the ground. The infuriated beast was struggling and wiggling to get free from the grip the professor had of its tail. It snarled and growled, now and then giving voice to a fierce roar, and endeavoring to swing far enough back to bite or claw the naturalist. As for Professor Snodgrass, he was clinging to the tail with both hands for dear life, and trying to keep as far as possible away from the dangerous teeth and claws of the lion. “Let go!” yelled Jerry. “I dare not!” shouted the professor. “If I do the brute will fall to the ground and eat me up. I can’t let go, and I can’t hold on much longer. Hurry up, boys, and do something!” “How did you get that way?” asked Bob. “I’ll—tell—you—later!” panted the poor professor, as he was swung clear from the ground by a particularly energetic movement of the beast. “Hurry! Hurry! The tail is slipping through my fingers!” In fact, this seemed to be the case, and the beast was now nearer the ground, while the length of tail the naturalist grasped was lessened. The big cat-like creature suddenly began swinging to and fro, like a pendulum. At each swing it came closer and closer to the professor. All the while it was spitting and snarling in a rage. Suddenly the professor gave a yell louder than any he had uttered. “Ouch! He bit me that time!” he cried. “Hurry, boys!” The lads saw that the situation now had more of seriousness than humor in it. Jerry crept up close and, with cocked rifle, waited for a chance to fire at the beast without hitting the professor. At that instant the lion made a strong, backward swing, and its claws caught in the professor’s trousers. The beast tried to sink its teeth in the naturalist’s legs, but with a quick movement the professor himself jumped back, and, with his own momentum and that of the lion to aid him, he swung in a complete circle around the limb of the tree, the lion going with him, so their positions were exactly reversed. “Steady now! I have him!” called Jerry. The change in the positions of man and beast had given the boy the very opportunity he wanted. The animal was now nearest to him. Quickly raising the rifle, Jerry sent a bullet into the brute’s head, following it up with two others. The lion, with a last wild struggle to free itself, dangled limply from the tree-limb, from which it was still suspended by the professor’s hold on its tail. Seeing that his enemy was dead, and could do him no harm, the naturalist let go his grip and the big cat fell in a heap on the ground. “Once more you boys have saved my life,” said the collector, as he mopped his brow, for his exertions in trying to keep free from the beast had not been easy. “Are you bit much?” asked Ned. “Nothing more than scratches,” was the reply. “How in the world did you ever get in such a scrape?” asked Jerry. “I’ll tell you how it was,” answered the professor. “You see, I was busy collecting bugs and small reptiles, going from tree to tree. When I came to this one I saw what I thought was a small, yellow snake. I believed I had a fine prize. “I approached without making a sound, and when I was near enough I made a grab for what I imagined was the snake. Instead, it turned out to be the tail of the mountain lion, which dangled from the limb, on which the beast was crouched. All at once there was a terrible commotion.” “I would say there was!” interrupted Ned. “We heard it over where we were.” “Yes, of course,” resumed the professor. “Well, as soon as I got the tail in my hands I found I had made a mistake. It was then too late to let go, so the only thing to do was to hold on. It was rather a peculiar position to be in.” “It certainly was,” said Jerry, with a laugh. “Yes, of course. Well, seeing that the only thing to do was to keep my grip, I kept it and yelled for help. I guess the lion was as badly scared as I was first, when it felt me grab its tail. After it found I wasn’t going to let go it got mad, I guess.” “It acted so, at any rate,” put in Bob. “Yes, of course,” went on the professor. “Well, anyhow, I knew if I did let go I would be clawed to pieces, so there I hung, like the man on the tail of the mad bull, not daring to let go. Then you came, and you know the rest.” “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” asked Ned. “Sure,” was the reply. “I was too lively for the lion. I’m sorry the tail didn’t turn out to be a snake, though, for if it had been I’m sure it would have been a rare specimen.” Leaving the dead body of the animal where it had fallen, the travelers went back to their auto. The camp utensils were packed away, and soon, with Ned at the steering wheel, the machine was running off the miles that separated the adventurers from the hidden city they hoped to find. They traveled until nearly nightfall, and came to no village or settlement. It began to look as if they would have to camp in the open, when, just as darkness was approaching, they came to a small adobe hut in the midst of a sugar-cane plantation. “Maybe we can stop here overnight,” said Jerry. An aged Mexican and his wife came to the door of the cabin to see the strange fire-wagon pass. Speaking to them in Spanish, the professor asked if he and his companions could get beds for the night. At first the man seemed to hesitate, but the rattling of a few coins in Bob’s pockets soon changed his mind, and he bade the travelers enter. equipment animal driver navigation pedestrian nationality agriculture car part night The woman quickly got a fairly good meal, and then, after sitting about for an hour or so and talking over the events of the day, the travelers sought their beds. They found themselves in one apartment, containing two small, cane couches, neither one hardly big enough for a single occupant. “However, it’s better than sleeping out of doors, where the mosquitoes can carry you away,” said Ned. Contrary to their expectations, the travelers slept good, the only trouble being the fleas, which were particularly numerous. But by this time they had become somewhat used to this Mexican pest. While the professor and the boys were taking a well-earned rest, quite a different scene was being enacted by Noddy Nixon and his companions. Following a half-formed plan he had in mind, Noddy had hung on the trail of the Motor Boys. He had followed them from the inn where they last stopped, and now he was camped out, with his followers, about five miles from the adobe hut. But Jerry and his friends did not know this. “Isn’t it pretty near time you told us what you are going to do, Noddy?” asked Jack Pender, as he piled some wood on the camp-fire. “I’ll tell you,” spoke Noddy. “We’re going to follow them until they locate their mine, and then we’re going to stake a claim right near theirs. They’re not going to get all the gold or silver in this country the way they did in Arizona.” “Are you sure it’s a mine they’re after?” asked Bilette, puffing at his cigarette. “Of course,” replied Noddy. “What else could it be? Didn’t you hear that’s what they came for?” “I don’t know,” went on the slick Mexican. “I only asked for information. If it’s a mine they’re after we’ll need a bigger force than we have to run things.” “Where can we get help?” asked Noddy. “I’ll show you,” replied Vasco. He put his fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly. An instant later half a dozen Mexicans stepped from the shadow of the trees and stood in a line, in the glare of the fire. “Well, you didn’t lose any time over it,” observed Noddy. “Where did they come from, and who are they?” and the bully looked a little uneasy. “They came from the greenwood,” replied Vasco Bilette, “for the forest is their home. And they are friends of mine, so now both your questions are answered.” “If they’re friends of yours I s’pose it’s all right,” went on Noddy. “Well, rather!” drawled Vasco, lighting another cigarette from the stump of his last one. “Will they help us?” went on Noddy. Bilette addressed something in Spanish to his friends who had so mysteriously appeared. “Si, señor,” they exclaimed as one man, bowing to Noddy. “Queer you happened to have ’em on hand,” said Noddy, accepting the answer to his question, for he had learned a little Spanish, and knew that “si” meant yes. “I anticipated we might need them,” said Bilette. “So I told them to be on hand and in waiting to-night. They are very prompt.” “Then we’ll join forces with them and show Jerry Hopkins and his crowd that he can’t have everything his own way,” growled Noddy. “Come on, we’ll follow them now and see what they are doing,” and Noddy seemed ready to start off. “Not to-night; it’s time to turn in,” objected Bilette. “We’ll begin early in the morning.” He spoke once more to the six men, who disappeared into the forest as quietly as they had come. Then Bilette, wrapping himself up in his cloak, went to sleep. The others followed his example, and soon the camp was quiet. Noddy now had his plans in working order, and he thought, with satisfaction, of the revenge he would have. Chapter XIII. - On the Trail (98-104) river accident forest scenery CHAPTER XIII. ON THE TRAIL. “Come, come, boys! Are you going to sleep all day?” exclaimed Professor Snodgrass, the next morning. His cheery voice awoke the others, and they sat up on the hard cots. “Where are we? Oh, yes, I remember now!” said Bob. “I thought I was back at the gold mine.” “I dreamed I was back in Cresville,” added Jerry. “I wonder how all the folks are. We must write some letters home.” After breakfast, which the Mexican and his wife served in an appetizing style, the travelers decided to delay their start an hour or two, and spend the time writing. Professor Snodgrass said he had no one to correspond with, so he wandered off with his net and specimen box, but the boys got out paper, pens and ink, and were soon busy scratching away. In about two hours the professor returned, having collected a number of specimens and escaped getting into any difficulties or dangers for once. “We’d better start,” he called. “I’m anxious to get to that underground city. If that turns out half as well as I expect, our fortunes are made.” “Will it be better than the gold mine?” asked Bob, with a grin. “The gold mine!” exclaimed the naturalist. “Why, I had rather reach this buried city than have half a dozen gold mines!” He was very enthusiastic and seemed anxious to get on with the journey. The automobile was made ready, and, bidding their hosts good-by, the travelers were again under way. animal pleasure maintenance As they progressed the road became rougher and more difficult of passage. In places it was so narrow that the automobile could barely be taken past the thick growth of foliage on either side. The forest fairly teemed with animal life, while the flitting of brilliantly colored birds through the trees made the woods look as if a rainbow had burst and fallen from the sky. Parrots and macaws, gay in their vari-tinted plumage, called shrilly as the puffing auto invaded their domains. It was necessary to run the car slowly. The professor fretted at the lack of speed, but nothing could be done about it, and, as Jerry said, it was better to be slow and sure. So they went on for several miles. About noon the travelers came to the edge of a broad river, which cut in two the road they had been following. road condition forest tree plant animal scenery sound slowness safety navigation river “Here’s a problem,” said Jerry, bringing the car to a stop. “How are we going to get over that? No bridge and no ferry in sight.” “Perhaps it isn’t as deep as it looks,” suggested the professor. “Tell you what!” exclaimed Ned. “We’ll all go in for a swim and then we can tell whether it’s too deep to run the auto across.” His plan was voted a good one, and soon the boys and Professor Snodgrass were splashing about in the water. Their bath was a refreshing one. Incidentally, Ned found out that he could wade across, the stream in one place coming only to his knees, while the bottom was of firm sand. While the travelers were splashing about in the cool water, they might not have felt so unconcerned had they been able to look through the thick screen of foliage on the bank of the stream, and see what was taking place there. parking river pleasure Several dark-complexioned men, in company with Vasco Bilette, had dismounted from their horses and were watching the bathers. “Well, I’m glad they decided to stop,” remarked Vasco. “Our horses are tired from following their trail. They will probably camp for the night on the other bank, for they would be foolish to go farther when they can find good water and fodder.” “You forget they do not have a horse to consider,” spoke one of the Mexicans. “Their machine does not eat.” “No more it does,” said Bilette. “But they cannot go much farther. If necessary, we can cross the river and get at them.” “Is that Noddy boy and his puff-puff carriage to join us?” asked one of the crowd of Mexicans. “That is the plan,” replied Vasco. “He thought we could follow the trail on horses better than he could in the automobile, because that makes a noise, and those we are pursuing might hear it. So Noddy has kept about five miles behind. As for us, you know that we have been only a mile in the rear, thanks to the slowness with which they had to run their machine. “Ah, the Americanos have finished their bath. Here they come back,” went on Vasco, as the boys and the professor began wading toward the shore, near which they had left their auto. animal river nationality sound slowness Suddenly the professor set up a great splashing and made a grab under the water. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” he yelled, holding something aloft. “Got what?” asked Jerry. “A rare specimen of the green-clawed crab,” was the answer, and the naturalist held up to view a wiggling crawfish. “It bit my big toe, but I grabbed it before it got away. This was indeed a profitable bath for me. That specimen is worth one hundred dollars.” “If there are crabs in there I don’t see why there aren’t fish,” spoke Ned. “I’m going to try, anyhow.” Quickly dressing, he got out a line and hook, cut a pole and, with a grasshopper for bait, threw in. In three minutes he had landed a fine big fish, and several others followed in succession. “I guess we’ll have one good meal, anyhow,” observed Ned. “Shall we stay on this side and eat, or cross the river?” asked the professor. “Might as well stay here,” was Jerry’s opinion. So the portable stove was made ready and soon the appetizing smell of frying fish filled the air. The travelers made a good meal, and Vasco Bilette and his gang, hiding among the trees, smoked their cigarettes and wished they had a portion. “But never mind, when we have the Americanos at our mercy we will be the ones who eat, and they will starve,” was how Vasco consoled himself. Dinner over, the travelers took their places in the auto, and, with Jerry at the wheel, the passage of the river was begun. Following the course Ned had tried, the machine was taken safely over the stream, and run up the opposite bank. No sooner had it got on solid ground, however, than, with a loud noise, one of the rear tires burst. “Here’s trouble!” exclaimed Ned, as Jerry brought the car to a sudden stop. “Might have been worse,” commented Bob. “It might have blown out while we were in the water, and that would have been no joke.” “Right you are, Chunky,” said Jerry. “Well, I suppose we may as well camp here for a spell; at least until the repairs are made.” He set to work to put in a new tube, Ned and Bob assisting him, while the professor wandered off after any stray specimens that might exist. He found several insects that he said were rare ones. The fixing of the tire proved a harder job than Jerry had anticipated. It was several hours before it was repaired to suit him, and by then the sun was getting low. river driver safety sound accident car part maintenance animal skill “What do you say that we camp here for the night?” proposed Ned. “We can’t get on much farther anyhow, and this is a nice place. It’s more open than in the forest.” This was voted a good plan, so a fire was made and a camp staked out. From their side of the river Vasco and his companions viewed these preparations with satisfaction. “They cannot escape us now,” said the leader of the Mexicans. “We can easily cross the river after dark and get close to them. I wish Noddy would hurry up.” At that instant there was the sound of wheels in the road, to the left of which Vasco and his men were concealed. In a little while Noddy, with Dalsett, Berry and Pender, rode up in the machine. night river sound driver passenger “Where are they?” asked Noddy, eagerly. Vasco pointed through the screen of bushes to the other side of the bank, where the professor and boys were encamped. “Good!” exclaimed Nixon. “We’ll pay them a visit to-night.” All unconscious of the nearness of their foes, the Cresville boys, having had a good supper, sat talking about the camp-fire. The professor was engaged in sorting over the specimens he had gathered during the day. At this same time Noddy and Dalsett, with Vasco and the six Mexicans the latter had provided, were preparing to cross the river, under cover of the darkness. They did not undress, but waded in as they were, the gleaming camp-fire on the other side serving as a beacon to guide them. “Softly!” cautioned Vasco, as the nine crawled up on the opposite bank, and began creeping toward the campers. Chapter XV. - Caught by an Alligator (112-119) river animal health risk weapon CHAPTER XV. CAUGHT BY AN ALLIGATOR. “Easy! Easy!” cried Vasco Bilette. “Do you want them to hear you across the river?” Under his caution the men subsided. “We must follow them and watch our chance,” spoke Noddy. “We’ll demand a heavy ransom.” “Si! Si!” agreed the Mexicans. “That’s how we get square, Jack,” whispered Noddy to his chum. “You bet, Noddy; and get money, too!” said Pender. “We’ll all have to have a share,” put in Dalsett. “I’m not here for my health.” “Me either,” remarked Bill Berry. “I need cash as much as any one.” “We’ll share the ransom money,” said Vasco. “Now turn in, every one of you.” Soon the camp became quiet, the only sounds heard being the movements of animals in the forest, or, now and then, the splash of a fish in the river. The sun was scarcely above the horizon the next morning ere Vasco Bilette was astir. He took a position where he could watch the other camp, and saw the professor and the boys get their breakfast and start off. “We’ll give them about an hour’s start,” said Vasco to Noddy. “Then the men on horses will follow and you can come, about a mile behind, in the auto. At the first opportunity we’ll capture this Bob Baker.” Meanwhile, Jerry and his companions were going along at a moderate pace. The weather was fine though hot, and the road fairly good. For perhaps twenty miles they puffed along, and then they came to another river. “I hope this isn’t any deeper than the other,” said Jerry. “I’ll swim across,” volunteered Ned. His offer was accepted, and, stripping off his outer garments, he plunged into the water. Luckily, he found the stream was about as shallow as the first one the auto had forded. He reached the opposite bank and called over. “Come on! Fetch my clothes with you; I’m not going to swim back.” road condition river temperature navigation Jerry started the machine down into the water. It went along all right until about half way across. Then there came a sudden swirl beneath the surface, a jar to the machine, and then the auto came to a stop. “What’s the matter?” cried Jerry. “Have we struck a snag?” “Looks more like a snag had struck us,” replied Bob, leaning over the rear seat and looking down into the water. “Something has hold of one of the back wheels.” “Nonsense!” exclaimed Jerry. “Do you suppose a fish would try to swallow an automobile, as the whale did Jonah?” “Well, you can see for yourself,” maintained Bob. “There’s some kind of a fish, or beast, or bird, down under the water, making quite a fuss. It’s so muddy I can’t make out what it is.” river risk animal visibility mud Jerry climbed over into the tonneau. Sure enough, there was some disturbance going on. Every now and then the water would swirl and eddy, and the automobile would tremble as if trying to move against some powerful force. Jerry had thrown out the gears as soon as he felt an obstruction. Professor Snodgrass was closely observing the water. “What do you think it is?” asked Jerry. “It might be that it is an eddy of the water about a sink-hole, or it may be, as Bob suggests, a big fish,” replied the naturalist. “I never knew there were fish in these waters big enough to stop an auto, though.” “It may be a whole school of fishes,” said Bob. Just then there came a more violent agitation of the water, and the auto began to move backward slightly. “Whatever it is, it seems bound to get us,” Jerry remarked. “Wait until I see if I can’t beat the fish or whatever it is.” car part river visibility vision animal He turned on more power and threw in the first speed gear. The auto shivered and trembled, and then moved ahead slightly. But the big fish, or whatever it was, with powerful strokes of its tail began a backward pull that neutralized the action of the automobile. “I see what it is!” cried the professor. “What?” asked Jerry. “A big alligator! It has one wheel in its mouth and is trying to drag us back. Hand me a rifle!” Jerry passed over a gun. The professor, who was a good shot, leaned down over the back of the tonneau. He could just make out the ugly head of the ’gator beneath the surface. In quick succession he sent three bullets from the magazine rifle into its brain. There was a last dying struggle of the beast, the waters swirled in a whirlpool under the lashing of the powerful tail, and then the little waves became red with blood and the alligator ceased struggling. Once more Jerry threw the gear into place, and this time the machine went forward and reached the opposite bank. car part animal river weapon “I thought you were never coming,” observed Ned, who was shivering in his wet undergarments. “What did you stop for? To catch fish?” “We stopped because we had to,” replied Jerry, and he told Ned about the alligator. “I thought you were shooting bullfrogs,” observed the swimmer as he got out some dry clothing. “Say, if we told the folks at home that a Mexican alligator tried to chew up an automobile, I wonder what they’d say?” “The beast must have been very hungry, or else have taken us for an enemy,” remarked the professor. “I wish I could have saved him for a specimen. But I suppose it would have been a bother to carry around.” “I think it would,” agreed Jerry. “But now we are safe, I must see if Mr. Alligator damaged the machine any.” He looked at the wheels where the saurian had taken hold, but beyond the marks of the teeth of the beast on the spokes and rim, no harm had been done. river animal maintenance car part “Are we ready to go on now?” asked the professor, when Ned had finished dressing. “I’d like to take a dip in the river,” said Bob. “It’s hot and dusty on the road, and we may not get another chance.” “I think I’ll go in, too,” observed Jerry. “We are in no hurry. Will you come along, professor?” “No; I’ll watch you,” said the naturalist. He sat down on the bank while Jerry and Chunky prepared for a dip. They splashed around in the water near shore and had a good bath. Bob was swimming a little farther out than was Jerry. “Better stay near shore,” cautioned the professor. “No telling when some alligators may be along.” At that instant Bob gave a cry. He struggled in the water and gave a spring into the air. “Something has stung me!” he cried. Then he sank back, limp and unconscious, beneath the waves. “Hurry!” cried the professor. “Get him out, Jerry, or he’ll be drowned!” But Jerry had hurried to the rescue even before the professor called. Reaching down under the water he picked up his companion’s body, and, placing it over his shoulder, waded to shore with it. Bob was as limp as a rag. “Is he killed?” asked Ned. “I hope not,” replied the professor. “Still, he had a narrow escape.” “Did something bite him?” asked Jerry. The professor pointed to a small red mark on Bob’s leg. “He received an electric shock,” said the naturalist. “An electric shock?” echoed Ned. “Yes; from the electric battery fish, or stinging ray, as they are sometimes called. They can give a severe shock, causing death under some circumstances, it is said. But I guess it was a young one that stung Bob. They are a fish,” the professor went on to explain, “fitted by nature with a perfect electric battery. I wish I had caught one for a specimen.” “I didn’t think of it at the time this one stung me or I would have caught it for you,” said Bob, suddenly opening his eyes. “Oh, you’re better, are you?” asked Jerry. “I’m all right,” replied Bob. “It was quite a jar at first.” “I agree with you,” put in the professor. “However, you got over it better than I expected you would. I think we had better get out of the neighborhood of this river. It seems unlucky.” In a little while Bob was sufficiently recovered to dress. Then, having delayed only to fill the water tank of the auto from the stream, the travelers resumed their journey. They chugged along until nightfall, and having reached no settlement, they camped in the open, and made an early start the next day. It was about noon when, having made a sudden turn of the road, they came to a place where there was a parting of the ways. “I wonder which we shall take?” asked Ned. “Look! Look!” cried Bob, suddenly, pointing to something ahead. car part river navigation forest health Chapter XVI. - The Laughing Serpent (120-126) river animal health risk weapon CHAPTER XVI. THE LAUGHING SERPENT. “What is it?” asked Jerry, bringing the machine up with a sudden jerk. “See! There is the laughing serpent!” exclaimed Bob. “The laughing serpent?” inquired Ned. “What do you mean?” “Don’t you remember what the old Mexican said?” went on Bob. “Here is the parting of the ways, and here is the image of the laughing serpent.” “Sure enough!” agreed the professor. “It’s an image cut out of stone, in the shape of a snake laughing. Wonderful! Wonderful!” Right at the fork of the road and about fifteen feet from the automobile was the strange design. It was rudely cut out of stone, a serpent twining about a tree-trunk. There was nothing remarkable in the image itself except for the quaint, laughing expression the sculptor had managed to carve on the mouth of the reptile. parking scenery animal “I wonder how it came here?” asked Jerry, getting out of the car and going close for a better look. “Probably a relic of the Aztec race,” replied the professor. “They were artists in their way. This must be the image the old Mexican mentioned. If it is I suppose we may as well follow his advice and take the road to the left.” “The road to the buried city,” put in Jerry. “We must be close to it now.” “Isn’t that something sticking in the mouth of the image?” asked Bob. “It looks like a paper,” said Ned. “I’ll climb up and see what it is.” He scrambled up the stone tree-trunk, about which the image of the laughing serpent was twined. Reaching up, he took from the mouth of the reptile a folded paper. “What does it say?” called Jerry. “It’s written in some queer language; Spanish, I guess,” replied Ned. “I can’t read it.” “Bring it here,” said Professor Snodgrass. “Perhaps I can make it out.” parking navigation road The naturalist puzzled over the writing a few minutes. Then he exclaimed: “It’s from our old friend, the Mexican magician. He tells us to turn to the left, which is the same advice he has given us before, and he adds that we must beware of some sudden happening.” “I wonder what he means by that?” asked Jerry. “Probably nothing,” answered the professor. “But if something does happen, and he meets us after it, he’ll be sure to say he warned us. It’s a way those pretended wonder-workers have.” “How do you suppose the note was placed there?” inquired Bob. “We left the Mexican many miles behind.” “They are wonderful runners,” answered the naturalist. “The magician may not have placed it here himself, but he may have given it to a friend. Perhaps there was a relay of runners, such as used to exist among the ancient Mexicans to carry royal messages. The old Mexican, who, somehow or other, discovered our object in this country, probably wanted to impress us with his abilities in the mystifying line.” The travelers spent a few minutes examining the queer, carved serpent. There were no other evidences of the existence of man at hand, and, except for the two roads, there was nothing to be seen but an almost unbroken forest. It was a wild part of Mexico. “Well, what are we going to do?” asked Jerry. “Go on or stay here?” “Go on, by all means,” said the professor. “Why, we may be only a little way from the buried city! Just think of it! There will be wealth untold for us!” “One thing puzzles me though,” observed Bob. “What is it, Chunky?” asked Ned. “How are we going to know this buried city when we come to it?” “How?” came from Jerry. “Why, I suppose there’ll be a railroad station, with the name of the city on it. Or there may be trolley cars, so we can ask the conductors if we are at the underground town. Don’t you worry about knowing the place when you get to it.” “But if it’s underground, how are we going to find it?” persisted Bob. “It isn’t like a mine, for people who know the signs can tell where gold or silver is hidden under the ground. But a city is different.” “I confess that question has been a puzzle to me,” admitted Professor Snodgrass. “The only thing to do is to keep on along this road until we come to the place, or see some evidence that a buried city is in the vicinity.” “Forward, then!” cried Jerry, cranking up the auto. They all got into the car and, proceeding at a slow speed, for the path was uncertain, started down the road leading to the left. But all this while Noddy Nixon and Vasco Bilette, at the head of their two bands, had not been idle. Noddy kept his auto going, and Vasco and his Mexicans trotted along on horseback, drawing nearer and nearer to the travelers ahead of them. It was about noon when the boys and the professor had started away from the image of the laughing serpent, and it was three hours later that Vasco and his men came up to it. slowness road condition rural animal “Hello!” exclaimed the Mexican, staring at the carved stone. “I never saw you before, but you’re not remarkable for beauty. I wonder what you’re here for?” He had never been in this part of Mexico before, and it was like a new country to him. “I wonder which way those chaps took?” asked Vasco, dismounting from his horse. “It won’t do for us to take the wrong trail.” “See!” exclaimed one of the Mexicans, pointing to where the tracks of the auto wheels could be seen, imprinted in the dust of the way leading to the left. “See! That way they go!” “Sure enough they did, Petro!” remarked Vasco. “You have sharp eyes. Well, we’ll just wait here until Noddy comes up and sees how things are. I shouldn’t wonder but what it would be time to close in on ’em to-night. I’m getting tired of waiting. I want some money.” “So are we all tired!” exclaimed one of the gang, speaking in Spanish, which was the language Vasco always used save in talking to his English acquaintances. “We want gold, and if the fat boy is to be carried off and held for a ransom, the sooner the better.” “Have patience,” advised Vasco. “We’ll have him quick enough. Wait until Noddy comes.” Then he began to roll a cigarette, his example being followed by all the others. In about an hour Noddy, Pender, Dalsett and Berry came up in the auto. A consultation was held, and it was decided to have the horsemen follow the party in front more closely. “We’ll do the kidnapping to-night,” said Noddy. “We’ll wait until they go into camp, because that’s what they’ll have to do, for there are no inns down here. We’ll be hiding in the bushes and at the proper time we’ll grab Bob Baker and run.” “Good!” exclaimed Vasco. “My men were beginning to get impatient.” animal city night The plotters made a fire and prepared dinner. Then the Mexicans got out their revolvers and began cleaning them. Several also sharpened their knives. “Look here,” began Noddy, as he saw these preparations, “there’s to be no killing, you know, Vasco.” “Killing! Bless you, of course not,” was the reply, but Vasco winked one eye at Dalsett. “My men are only seeing that their weapons do not get rusty. Now, captain, we’re ready to start as soon as you give the word.” “Then you may as well begin now,” was Noddy’s reply. “They have a pretty good start of us, but we’ll travel after dark, if need be, to catch up with them. As soon as they camp out for the night, Vasco, surround them so they can’t escape. Then I’ll come up in my car, and we’ll take Bob away in it.” The horsemen started off, Noddy following in a little while. The trail made by the auto of the boys and the professor was easily followed. weapon nationality animal night navigation Noddy’s car had barely turned around a bend in the road before something strange happened. The laughing serpent seemed to tremble and shake. It appeared alive, and about to fall to the ground. Then a portion of the base and tree-trunk slid to one side and from the interior, which was hollow, there stepped out an old Mexican—the same who had played the part of the magician and who had given prophetic warning to the travelers. “Ha! My trick worked!” he exclaimed. “It was a hard journey to travel all that distance and get here ahead of them. Only the fleetness of my horse and the fact that I knew all the roads that were short cuts, enabled me to do it. Now for the final act in the game!” He placed his fingers to his mouth and blew a shrill whistle. In an instant a milk-white horse came from the bushes, where it had been concealed. “Here, my beauty!” called the Mexican. He leaped on the animal’s back and dashed off like the wind, down the road leading to the right. Chapter XVII. - An Interrupted Kidnapping (127-132) CHAPTER XVII. AN INTERRUPTED KIDNAPPING. As the auto containing the naturalist and the boys progressed, the road became more and more difficult to travel. Part of the way was overgrown with brush, and several times the travelers had to stop, get out and cut big vines that grew across the path. “I guess there hasn’t been much going on along this highway,” observed Jerry. “And I don’t believe it will ever be much in favor with autoists,” said Ned. “There’s too much sand.” There was a great deal of the fine dirt and in some places it was so soft and yielding that the wheels of the car sank down half way to the hubs, making it impossible to proceed except at a snail’s pace. Then, again, would come firm stretches, where the going was easier. road condition forest plant car part slowness In this manner several miles were traversed. The forest on either side of the road became more dense and wilder. Thousands of parrots and other birds flew about among the trees, and troops of monkeys followed the progress of the automobile, chattering as if in rage at the invasion of their stamping ground. Suddenly the screams and chattering of the monkeys ceased. The birds also stopped their racket, and the silence was weird after the riot of noise. Then there came such a series of shrill shrieks from a band of monkeys that it was evident something out of the ordinary had happened. The next instant a long, lithe, yellow animal shot across the road in front of the auto. The big beast had a monkey in its mouth. navigation forest animal tree sound “A jaguar!” exclaimed the professor. “Quick, boys! Get the rifle!” Ned handed the weapon to the professor, who fired three times, quickly, but the jaguar leaped on, unharmed. “Well, we’re getting into the region of big game,” remarked the naturalist, “and we’ll have to be on the lookout now or some of the beasts will be trying that trick on us.” “The monkeys must have seen him; that’s why they kept so still that time,” remarked Bob. “But it didn’t do that particular one any good,” said the professor. “He must have been caught napping. Well, Mr. Jaguar will have a good supper to-night.” “That reminds me,” spoke Bob. “When are we going to eat?” “That’s right, speak of eating and you’ll be sure to hear from Chunky,” said Jerry. “But I suppose we’ll have to camp pretty soon. It’s five o’clock and there don’t seem to be any hotels in the vicinity,” and he glanced at the dense forest on every side and grinned. “We’ll camp at the next clearing,” said the professor. “Better get to a place where there’s a little space on every side of you when there are wild animals about.” animal weapon A mile further on the travelers came to a place where the trees were less thick. There was an open space on either side of the road. The auto was placed under the shelter of a wide-spreading palm and then the adventurers busied themselves getting supper. The professor took a gun and went a little way into the woods. He shot a small deer, and in a little while some choice venison steaks were broiling over the camp stove. “This is something like eating,” remarked Ned. “I was getting tired of those frijoles, eggs and tortillas,” and he accepted a second helping of venison. The rubber and woolen blankets were taken from the auto, and the travelers prepared to spend the night in the forest. tree forest parking weapon animal pleasure equipment “I guess we’ll mount guard,” said the professor. “The forest is full of jaguars. I saw three while I was hunting the deer.” “Let me stay up,” begged Jerry. “I’m not sleepy, and I’d like to get a shot at one of the beasts.” Ned also wanted to remain up, but the professor said he could take the second watch; and, content with this, Ned turned in with the others. As the night wore on the forests resounded more and more with the noises made by wild beasts. The howls of the foxes mingled with the more terrifying yells of the jaguars, and of the latter beasts the woods seemed to be full. Jerry, with the loaded magazine rifle, was on the alert. He kept up a bright fire, for he knew that unless made desperate by hunger no wild thing would approach a flame. There were queer rustlings and cracklings of the underbrush on every side of the sentinel. Now and then through the leaves he caught glimpses of reddish-green eyes reflecting back the shine of the blaze. weapon animal Following the plans they had made, Vasco Bilette and his Mexicans, together with Noddy and the crowd in the automobile, had trailed the boys and the professor to the camp. With great caution, Vasco had led his men to within a short distance of the fire Jerry had kindled, and Noddy’s auto was in readiness for the kidnapping. So, though Jerry did not know it, there were the eyes of dangerous men on his movements as well as the eyes of dangerous beasts. Like dark shadows, the Mexicans slowly encircled the camp. They were so close they could distinguish the sleeping forms. “Which is Bob?” whispered Vasco to Noddy. “That one right at the foot of the big palm tree,” replied Noddy Nixon, pointing out the banker’s son. “Is everything ready?” the leader of the Mexicans asked. “All ready!” replied Noddy. Vasco was about to steal forward, hoping to be able to grab up Bob and make off with him before the camp was aroused. In case of resistance, he had given his men orders to shoot. But at that instant a big jaguar, driven wild with hunger, and braving all danger, had crept to within a few feet of Jerry. The animal smelled the meat of the recently killed deer, the carcass of which hung in a tree. The fierce beast determined to get a meal at all hazards. It crouched on the limb of a tree, just above Jerry’s head, ready for a spring at the body of the deer. Jerry happened to glance up. He saw the long, lithe body, tense for a leap, the reddish-green eyes glaring at him. Jerry was not a coward, but the sight of the brute, so dangerous and so close to him, scared him greatly for a second or two. Then, recovering his nerve, he raised the rifle, took quick aim and fired three shots in rapid succession. With a snarl and roar the jaguar toppled to the ground, tearing up the earth and leaves in a death struggle. “What’s the matter?” called out the professor. “Are you hurt, Jerry?” cried Ned. Bob, too, roused up, and the whole camp was soon astir, every one grabbing a gun or revolver. Jerry fired two more shots into the jaguar, and the struggles ceased. “I got him just in time,” he remarked. The others crowded around the brute. “Halt!” exclaimed Bilette, under his breath, as, ready with his men to rush on the camp, he saw that his plan was spoiled. “If it had not been for that jaguar I would have had the captive. Come, we must get out of this!” Chapter XVIII. - The Underground City (133-140) CHAPTER XVIII. THE UNDERGROUND CITY. Vasco Bilette’s warning was received with ill humor by his men. They were angry because the kidnapping had not succeeded, and because the jaguar had alarmed the camp and put every one on guard. “Come, let us give them battle now and take the boy!” suggested one. “Do you want to be killed?” asked Vasco, angrily. “They are all armed now, and would shoot at the least suspicious sound. I, for one, don’t care to have a bullet in me. Come, let us get out of this.” The Mexicans saw the force of Vasco’s arguments. They did not care about being shot at like wild beasts, and they knew that the boys and the professor were ready for anything now. “We will try to-morrow night,” said Bilette, as, with Noddy and his men, he silently withdrew to where the horses and auto had been left. “Perhaps we’ll have better luck then.” The men growled, but had to accept the situation. As for our friends, they were too excited to sleep any more that night, and so they sat around the camp-fire and talked until morning. Breakfast over, camp was broken, and once more the auto started on the trip toward the hidden city. Professor Snodgrass got out the map made by his dead friend and studied it carefully. “I believe we are on the right road,” the naturalist said. “Here is a highway marked on the drawing that seems to correspond with the one we are on. And there is a place marked where two roads diverge. Only there is nothing said about the laughing serpent, though there is something here that might be taken for it,” and he pointed to the map. night map navigation highway road Every one was becoming quite anxious, and the boys, as well as the professor, kept close watch on each foot of the way to see if there were any indications that they were close to the underground town. They stopped for dinner near a little brook, in which Bob caught several fish that made a welcome addition to the bill of fare. “Now, if you boys don’t object, I think I’ll take a little stroll into the woods and see what I can find in the way of specimens,” remarked the naturalist, as he finished the last of his fish and frijoles. “Better take a gun along,” called Ned. “A jaguar may get you.” “I’m not going very far,” replied the professor. “All I want is my net and box,” and with these only he started off. It was about an hour later when Jerry observed: “Doesn’t it seem as if the monkeys were making more noise than usual?” The boys listened for a few seconds. It was evident that something had disturbed these nimble inhabitants of the forest, for they were yelling and chattering at a great rate. “Maybe another jaguar is after them,” suggested Bob. “No; it doesn’t sound like that,” said Jerry. “They seem to be yelling more in rage than in fear.” “Maybe they’re having a fight,” put in Ned. Just then there came a crashing, as if several trees were being crashed down by a tornado. There was a crackling of the underbrush and a rustling in the leaves. Then, above this noise and the yells of the monkeys, sounded a single cry: “Help, boys!” “The professor’s in trouble again!” cried Jerry. “I wonder what it is this time?” Grabbing up a rifle, which example Bob and Ned imitated, Jerry ran in the direction of the voice. The noise made by the monkeys increased, and there were sounds as if a bombardment of the forest was under way. “Where are you?” called Jerry. “We are coming!” “Under this big rock!” called the professor, and the boys, looking in the direction his voice came from, saw the naturalist hiding under a big ledge of stone that jutted out of the side of a hill in a sort of a clearing. “Can’t you come out?” called Ned. “I tried to several times, but I was nearly killed,” replied the professor. “The monkeys are after me. Look at the ground.” The boys looked and saw, strewn in front of the shallow cave in which the professor had ensconced himself, a number of round, dark objects. As they looked there came a shower of others through the air. Several of them hit on the rock, broke, and a shower of white scattered all about. “What in the world are they?” asked Bob. He ran toward the professor. No sooner had he emerged out of the dense forest into the clearing than a regular hail of the round objects fell all about him. One struck him on the shoulder and the boy was glad enough to retreat. “What’s it all about?” asked Ned. “The monkeys are bombarding the professor with cocoanuts,” said Bob, gasping for breath after his run. “Cocoanuts?” “That’s what they are. Here come some more.” He had scarcely spoken before the air was again dark with the brown nuts, which were much larger than those seen in market, being contained in their original husk. At the same time there was a chorus of angry cries from the monkeys. It was evident now why the professor dared not leave his rock shelter. The minute he did so he would run the risk of being struck down and probably killed by a volley of the nuts. Nor could the boys go to his rescue, for the moment they crossed the clearing they would be targets for the infuriated animals. “What’s to be done?” asked Ned. “Supposing we shoot some of the monkeys,” suggested Bob. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” said Jerry. “In the first place if we kill any of the animals it will make the others all the angrier. And then we would have to keep shooting for several days to make much of an inroad on the beasts. There must be five thousand of them.” Indeed, the forest was full of the long-tailed and nimble-fingered monkeys, all perched in cocoanut or other trees, ready to resent the slightest movement on the part of their human enemies. “I know a good trick,” spoke Bob. “What is it, Chunky?” asked Jerry. “Take a big looking-glass and put it on a tree. The monkeys will be attracted by the shine of it; they will all go down to see what it is and when they see a strange monkey in the glass they will fight. That will make enough fuss so that the professor can escape.” “That might be a good trick if we had the big mirror, which we haven’t,” spoke Jerry. “You’ll have to think of something else, Chunky.” But there was no need of this, for at that instant the cries of the monkeys ceased. The silence was almost oppressive in its suddenness and by contrast with the previous riot of noise. Then came unmistakable screams of fear from the simians. “Now what has happened, I wonder?” said Ned. “It’s a jaguar!” cried Bob. He pointed to a tree, on a limb of which one of the animals the monkeys dreaded so much was stretched out. The beast was stalking one of the chattering animals, but his presence had been discovered by the whole tribe. So much in awe did the monkeys hold this scourge of the Mexican forests that his presence accomplished what the boys could never hope to. The apes trooped off with a rush, chattering in fright. With a howl of rage the jaguar took after them. “You can come out now, Professor,” called Ned. “The monkeys are gone.” In fear and trembling the naturalist came from his sheltering rock. He seemed in momentary fear lest he might be greeted with a shower of the nuts, but none fell. With rapid strides he crossed the clearing and joined the boys. “How did it all happen?” asked Jerry, as soon as the professor had recovered his breath. “It was all my fault,” explained the naturalist. “I was collecting some butterfly specimens, when I happened to see some monkeys in the cocoanut trees. I had read that if any one threw something at the beasts they would retaliate by throwing down cocoanuts. I wanted to test it, so I threw a few stones at the monkeys. They returned my fire with interest, so I was forced to run under the rock for shelter. “There were only a few monkeys at first, but more came until there were thousands. They kept throwing cocoanuts until the ground was covered. It’s lucky you came when I called.” “It’s luckier the jaguar came along when he did,” said Jerry. “Let’s get back to the auto before I get into any more trouble,” suggested the professor. “I do seem to have the worst luck of getting into scrapes.” Half an hour later the travelers were on their way. It was getting well along into afternoon and they were beginning to think of where they would spend the night. They were getting deeper and deeper into the forest, and the way became more and more difficult to travel. But they would not turn back, for they felt they were on the right path. At length they came to a place where creepers and vines were so closely grown across the path that nothing short of hatchets could make a way. The boys got out the small axes kept for such emergencies, and, after an hour’s work, made a passage. They started forward once more, and were going along at a pretty good clip, the road having improved in spots. navigation forest road condition plant equipment speed “I wonder when we’ll get to that underground city?” said Ned, for perhaps the tenth time that day. He had no sooner spoken than the earth trembled under the auto. The machine seemed to stand still. Then, with a sickening motion it plunged forward and downward. A big hole had opened in the road and let the car and its occupants through the surface of the earth. The machine slid forward, revealing, near the top of a shaft, a brief glimpse of several ruined buildings. “It is the underground city!” exclaimed the professor. Then there came intense darkness. accident risk haptic Chapter XIX. - In an Ancient Temple (141-147) CHAPTER XIX. IN AN ANCIENT TEMPLE. The auto seemed to be bumping along downhill, for at the first evidence of danger Jerry had shut off the power and applied the brake. But the descent was too steep to have the bands hold. Down and down the adventurers went, through some underground passage, it was evident. “Are we all here?” called Jerry, his voice sounding strange and muffled in the chamber to which they had come. “I’m here and all right, but I don’t exactly know what has happened,” replied the professor. “The same with me,” put in Ned, and Bob echoed his words. skill car part engine risk sound Just then the automobile came to a stop, having reached a level and run along it for a short distance. “Well, we seem to have arrived,” went on Jerry. “I wonder how much good it is going to do us?” “Supposing we light the search-lamp and see what sort of a place we are in,” suggested Professor Snodgrass. “It’s so dark in here we might just as well be inside one of the pyramids of Egypt.” The acetylene gas lamp on the front of the auto was lighted, and in its brilliant rays the travelers saw that they were in a large underground passage. It was about twenty feet high, twice as broad and seemed to be hewn out of solid rock. equipment car part “This is what makes it so dark,” observed the professor. “I knew it must be something like this, for it was still daylight when we tumbled into the hole and we haven’t been five minutes down here. Run the auto forward, Jerry.” The car puffed slowly along surely as strange a place as ever an automobile was in. The boys looked eagerly ahead. They saw nothing but the rocky sides and roof of the passage. “This doesn’t look much like an underground city,” objected Ned. “I think it’s an abandoned railway tunnel.” slowness visibility At that instant Jerry shut off the power and applied the brakes with a jerk. “What’s the matter?” asked the professor. “There’s some sort of a wall or obstruction ahead,” was the answer, and Jerry pointed to where, in the glare of the lamp, could be seen a wall that closed up the passageway completely. “I guess this is the end,” remarked Ned, ruefully. The naturalist got out of the car and ran forward. He seemed to be examining the obstruction carefully. He struck it two or three blows. “Hurrah!” he cried. “Come on, boys, this is only a big wooden door! We can open it!” In an instant the three lads had joined him. They found that the passage was closed by a big portal of planks, bolted together and swinging on immense hinges. There was also a huge lock or fastening. “Can we open the door?” inquired Bob. “It looks as if it was meant to stay shut.” “We’ll soon see,” answered Jerry. car part skill visibility passenger driver He ran back to the automobile and got a kit of tools. Then, while Ned held up one of the small oil lamps that was taken off the dashboard of the car, Jerry tackled the lock. It was a massive affair, but time had so rusted it that very little trouble was found in taking it apart so that the door was free. “Everybody push, now!” called Jerry. “Those hinges are pretty rusty.” They shoved with all their strength, but the door, though it gave slightly, showing that no more locks held it, would not open. It had probably not been used for centuries. “Looks as if we’d have to stay here,” said the professor. “Not a bit of it,” spoke Jerry. “Wait a minute.” He ran back to the auto, and soon the others heard him cranking it up. “Look out! Stand to one side!” he called. The auto came forward slowly. Jerry steered the front part of it carefully against the massive door. Once he was close to the portal he turned on full power. equipment oil skill slowness There was a cracking and splintering of wood, and a squeaking as the rusty hinges gave. Then, with the auto pushing against it, the massive door swung to one side. The machine had accomplished what the strength of the boys and the professor could not. Slowly but surely the portal opened. Wider and wider it swung, until there burst on the astonished gaze of the travelers a flood of light. The sun was shining overhead, though fast declining in the west, but in the bright glare of the slanting beams there was revealed the underground city. skill risk city slowness West sound There it stood in all its ancient splendor, most of it, however, but mere ruins of what had been fine buildings. There were rows and rows of houses, stone palaces and what had been beautiful temples. Nearly all of the structures showed traces of elaborate carvings. But ruin was on every side. The roofs of houses, temples and palaces had fallen in. Walls were crumbling and the streets were filled with debris. As the boys looked, some foxes scampered among the ruins, and shortly afterward a jaguar slunk along, crawling into a hole in a temple wall. “Grand! Beautiful! Solemn!” exclaimed the professor, in raptures over the discovery. “It is more than I dared to hope for. Think of it, boys! We have at last discovered the buried city of ancient Mexico. How the people back in civilization will open their eyes when they hear this news! My name and yours as well will be covered with glory. Oh, it is marvelous!” “I guess it will be some time before the people back in Cresville hear of this,” observed Jerry. “There doesn’t seem to be any way of sending a letter from here. I don’t see any telegraph station, and there’s not a messenger boy in sight.” “That’s funny,” said Ned. “You’d think a buried city, a dead one, so to speak, would be just the place where a district messenger would like to come to rest.” “It’s a lonesome place here,” remarked Bob. “I hope we’ll find some one to talk to.” “That’s just the beauty of the place,” said the professor. “What good would an ancient, ruined, buried city be if people were living in it? I hope there isn’t a soul here but ourselves.” “I guess you’ll get your desire, all right,” remarked Jerry. The first surprise and wonder over, the travelers advanced a little way into the city and looked about them. They saw that the place, which was several miles square, was down in a hollow, formed of high hills. For this reason the location of the city had remained so long a secret. They had come upon it through one of the underground passages leading into the town, and these, as they afterward learned, were the only means of entering the place. There were four of these passages or tunnels, one entering from each side of the city, north, south, east and west. But time and change had closed up the outer ends of the tunnels after the city had become deserted, and it remained for Professor Snodgrass and his party to tumble in on one. It was as if a city had been built inside an immense bowl and on the bottom of it. The sides of the bowl would represent the hills and mountains that girt the ancient town. Then, if four holes were made in the sides of the vessel, close to the bottom, they would be like the four entrances to the old city. “Supposing we take a ride through the town before dark,” suggested Jerry. “We may meet some one.” He started the machine, but after going a short distance it was found that it was impracticable to use the machine to any advantage. The streets were filled with debris and big stones from the ruined houses and fallen hills, and it needed constant twisting and turning to make the journey. “Let’s get out and walk,” proposed Ned. “Then there’s a good place to leave the machine,” said Bob, pointing to a ruined temple on the left. “We can run it right inside, through the big doors. It’s a regular garage.” driver road condition scenery parking garage The suggestion was voted a good one, and Jerry steered the auto into the temple. The place had been magnificent in its day. Even now the walls were covered with beautiful paintings, or the remains of them, and the whole interior and exterior of the place was a mass of fine stone carving. The roof had fallen away in several places, but there were spots where enough remained to give shelter. The machine was run into a covered corner and then the travelers went outside. garage parking city scenery skill The professor uttered cries of delight at every step, as he discovered some new specimen or relic. They seemed to exist on every side. “Look out where you’re stepping!” called the naturalist, suddenly, as Jerry was about to set his foot down. “What’s the matter—a snake?” asked the boy, jumping back. “No. But you nearly stepped on and ruined a petrified bug worth thousands of dollars!” “Great Scott! I’ll be careful after this,” promised Jerry, as the professor picked up the specimen of a beetle and put it in his box. Chapter XX. - Mysterious Happenings (148-155) CHAPTER XX. MYSTERIOUS HAPPENINGS. The travelers strolled for some time longer, the professor finding what he called rare relics at every turn. “This is like another gold mine,” he said. “There are treasures untold here. I have no doubt we will find a store of diamonds and other precious stones before we are through.” “I’d like to find a ham sandwich right now,” observed Bob. “It wouldn’t be Chunky if he wasn’t hungry,” laughed Ned. “But I admit I feel somewhat the same way myself.” “Then we had better go back to the temple and get supper,” advised Jerry. So back they went, but their progress was slow, because the professor would insist on examining every bit of ruins he came to in order to see if there were not specimens to be gathered or relics to be picked up. His green box was full to overflowing and all his pockets bulged, but he was the happiest of naturalists. It was dark when they reached the ancient place of worship where the auto had been left, and at Jerry’s suggestion Bob lighted the search-lamp and the other two lights on the machine. This made a brilliant circle of illumination in one place, but threw the rest of the temple into a dense blackness. “I wouldn’t want to be here all alone,” remarked Bob, looking about and shuddering a bit. “Why, Chunky? Afraid of ghosts?” asked Ned. “What was that?” exclaimed Bob, suddenly, starting at a noise. “A bat,” replied the naturalist. “The place is full of them. I must get some for specimens.” “I don’t know but what I prefer ghosts to bats,” said Bob. “I hope none of them suck our blood while we’re asleep.” “No danger; I guess none of these are of the vampire variety,” remarked the professor. “But now let’s get supper.” car part visibility sound animal magic night In spite of the strangeness of the surroundings, the travelers managed to make a good meal. The gasolene stove was set up and some canned chicken prepared, with tortillas and frijoles. “We’ll have to replenish our larder soon,” remarked Jerry, looking into the provision chest. “There’s only a little stuff left.” “We’ll have to go hunting some day,” said the professor. “We can’t starve in this country. Game is too plentiful.” “I wonder if the people who built this place didn’t put some bedrooms in it,” said Bob, as, sitting on the floor of the temple, he began to nod from sleepiness. “Perhaps they did,” put in Ned. “Let’s take a look.” He unfastened one of the oil lamps from the auto and started off on an exploring trip. A little to the left of the corner where the auto stood he came to a door. Though it worked hard on the rusted hinges he managed to push it open. He flashed the light inside. “Hurrah! Here are some beds or couches or something of the kind!” he shouted. oil car part visibility The others came hurrying up. The room seemed to be a sort of resting place for the priests of the ancient temple. Ranged about the side walls were wooden frames on which were stretched skins and hides of animals, in a manner somewhat as the modern cot is made. “I wonder if they are strong enough to hold us,” said Jerry. “Let Chunky try, he’s the heaviest,” suggested Ned. Accordingly, Bob stretched out on the ancient bed. It creaked a little, but showed no signs of collapsing in spite of the many years it had been in the place. “This will be better than sleeping on a cold stone floor,” remarked the professor. “Fetch in the blankets and we’ll have a good night’s rest.” “Shall we post a guard?” asked Jerry. “I don’t think it will be necessary,” replied the naturalist. “I hardly believe there is any one in this old city but ourselves, and we can barricade the door to keep out any stray animals.” So, in a little while, the travelers were all slumbering. But the professor was wrong in his surmise that they were the only inhabitants of the underground city. No sooner had a series of snores proclaimed that every one was sleeping than from a dark recess on the opposite side of the temple to that where the automobile stood there came a strange figure, clad in white. If Bob had seen it he surely would have said it was a ghost. “So you found my ancient city after all,” whispered the figure. “You know now that the Mexican magician was telling the truth, and you realize that you found the place sooner than you expected, and in a strange manner. But there will be more strange things happen before you go from here, I promise you.” “Are the Americano dogs asleep?” sounded a whisper from the recess whence came the aged Mexican, who had so strangely prophesied to the professor. “Yes, San Lucia, they are asleep,” replied the first figure, as another, attired as he was, joined him. “But speak softly, for they have sharp ears and wake easily.” “Have they the gold with them?” asked San Lucia, who was also quite old. “That is what we want, Murado. Have they the gold?” “All Americanos have gold,” replied Murado. “That is why I lured them on. All my plans were made to get them here that we might take their gold.” “And you succeeded wonderfully well, Murado. Tell me about it, for I have not had a chance to talk to you since you arrived in such breathless haste.” “There is not much to tell,” replied the other. “I heard of their arrival in a short time after they reached Mexico. Then, in a secret way, I heard what they were searching for. Chance made it possible for me to somewhat startle them by pretending to know more than I did. I met them on the road and told them of what they were in search and how to find it.” “That was easy, since you knew so well yourself,” interrupted San Lucia. “We have not been brigands for nothing, Murado. Well do I remember the day you and I came upon this buried city. And it has been our headquarters ever since.” “As I said, it was easy to mystify them,” went on Murado. “They traveled fast in their steam wagon, or whatever it is, but I knew several short cuts that enabled me to get ahead of them. I was hidden in the hollow stone image of the laughing serpent and saw, through the little eye-holes, how they came up and took the paper I had written and put between the lips of the reptile. Oh, it all worked out as I had planned, and now we have them here where we want them.” “And we will kill them and get their gold!” whispered San Lucia, feeling of a knife he wore in his belt. “But tell me, how did they happen to stumble on the right underground passage?” “They didn’t happen to,” replied Murado. “That was one point where I failed. But it is just as well. You see, I had so managed things that I knew they would take the road to the left of the image. When I saw them depart I called my horse and galloped off to the right. I wanted to take a short cut and get here ahead of them. “I succeeded. You were away; just when I needed your help, too. But I managed. I went out in the underground passage and waited for them. “That passage, you know, goes right under the road they were traveling on. Whoever built this ancient city must have wanted it to remain hidden, for the only way to get to it is by the tunnels. If, by chance, some one approached on the roads leading to the top of the mountains the ancients had a plan to get rid of them.” “How?” asked San Lucia. “At several places in the upper roadway there were false places. That is, they were traps. A portion of the road would be dug away, making a shaft down to the tunnel. Then boards would be placed over the hole and a light covering of dirt sprinkled on the planks. Watchers were stationed below, and at the sound of an enemy on the boards above the sentinels would pull a lever. This would take away the supports of the false portion of the road, and it would crash down into the tunnel, carrying the enemy with it. “So I played the part of the watcher, and when I heard the Americanos riding over the trap I pulled the lever and down they crashed. “There, as I said, I made my only mistake. I expected the Americanos would be killed, but their steam cart is strong, and the fall did not hurt them. Besides, only one end of the trap gave way, and the other, holding fast, made an inclined road on which they descended into the tunnel. That is how they came here, and now we must to work if we are to get their gold.” “And quickly, too,” observed San Lucia, “for I learned that another party is following this; they, too, have a steam wagon, and we may trap them also.” “I know the crowd of whom you speak,” said Murado. “They are not far behind. One is a youth called Nixy Nodnot, or some barbarous thing like it. They will be surprised not to find their friends. But come, they sleep!” Then the two Mexican brigands began creeping toward the room where the professor and the boys were sleeping. Chapter XXI. - Noddy Has a Tumble (156-162) night risk accident forest CHAPTER XXI. NODDY HAS A TUMBLE. When Vasco and Noddy, foiled in their attempt to kidnap Bob, retreated through the forest, they went into camp with their crowd in no very pleasant frame of mind. The Mexicans whom Vasco had hired to assist him were angry at being foiled, and they talked of deserting. “Go on, if you want to,” said Vasco, carelessly rolling a cigarette; “so much the more gold for us when the rich man ransoms his son.” This was enough to excite the greed of the men, who talked no more of going away. The next day, after a consultation, Noddy and Vasco decided to continue on the trail of the boys and the professor. They pursued the same tactics they had previous to the interrupted kidnapping, and were careful not to get too close to those they were trailing. All was not harmonious among the members of the band with which Noddy had surrounded himself. The men had frequent quarrels, especially when they were playing cards, which they seemed to do when they were not smoking cigarettes. After dinner one day the Mexicans appeared to be much amused as they played their game. They laughed and shouted and seemed to be talking of the automobile, for Noddy had brought his machine up to the camp of the horsemen. “What are they talking about?” asked Noddy of Vasco. “They are making a wager that the one who loses the game must ride, all by himself, in the automobile,” replied Bilette. “But I don’t want them to do that,” said Noddy. “They don’t know how to run the car.” “That’s the trouble,” went on Vasco. “No one wants to lose, for they’re all afraid to operate the machine. But if one of them tries to do it, you’d better let him, if you don’t want to get into trouble.” With a shout of laughter the men arose from where they had been playing the game. They seemed to be railing at one chap, who looked at the auto as if he feared it might blow up and kill him. risk pleasure skill “You’re in for it,” remarked Vasco. “Whatever you do don’t make a fuss.” With a somewhat sheepish air a young Mexican, one of Vasco’s crowd, came near the auto. He made a sign that he wanted to take Noddy’s place. The latter frowned and spoke in English, only a word or two of which the native understood. “You shan’t have this machine,” spoke Noddy. “It’s mine, and if you try to run it you’ll break it.” But the Mexican paid no heed. He came close up to Noddy, grabbed him by the collar and hauled him from the car. Noddy was the only one in it at that time, Berry, Dalsett and Pender having gone off a short distance. risk nationality skill driver “Let go of me!” cried Noddy, trying to draw a small revolver he carried. The Mexican only grunted and retained his grip. “If you don’t let me alone I’ll fire!” exclaimed the youth. He had his revolver out, and the Mexican, seeing this, allowed his temper to cool a bit. But there was an angry look in his eyes that meant trouble for Noddy. “Now you fellows quit this gambling,” commanded Vasco. “We’ll have hard work ahead of us in a little while, and we don’t want any foolishness. Leave Noddy alone. Don’t you know if any one tries to run that machine that hasn’t been introduced to it, the engine will blow up!” “Diablo!” exclaimed the Mexican who had lost at cards and who was about to attempt to operate the auto. “I will let it alone!” weapon nationality risk engine Quiet was restored, but the bad feeling was only smoothed over. It was liable to break out again at any time. The main object of the crowd was not lost sight of, however, and every hour they drew nearer the trail of those of whom they were in pursuit. As it grew dusk, on the day of the quarrel over the auto, Noddy and Vasco, with their followers, came to a small clearing. They decided to stop and have supper. “If I’m not mistaken, the other auto has been here within a short time,” remarked Vasco, pointing to marks in the sandy road. “And there seem to be footprints leading over there through the underbrush.” He followed the trail, and came to the place where, a short time before, Professor Snodgrass had battled with the cocoanut-throwing monkeys. risk navigation parking animal plant scenery “Looks as if some one was going to start in the wholesale business,” went on the Mexican, glancing at the pile of nuts the simians had piled up. “Do you think we are close to them?” asked Noddy, for, since the experience of the afternoon, he was anxious to get the kidnapping over, and be rid of the Mexicans. “They have been here very recently,” said Vasco. “How can you tell?” asked Noddy. “See where the oil has dripped from their machine,” replied Bilette, pointing to a little puddle of the lubricant in the road. “It has not yet had time to soak away, showing that it must have been there but a short time, since in this sand it would not remain long on top.” nationality plant animal oil skill “Shall we go on after them or camp for the night?” asked Noddy, following a somewhat lengthy pause. “Keep on,” replied Vasco. “No telling when we may get another chance. Get the boy when we can. We’ll have to do a little night traveling, but what of it?” Noddy assented. He spent some time after supper in oiling up the auto and getting the lamps filled, for darkness was coming on. Then, all being in readiness, Noddy started off, the horsemen keeping close to him. maintenance oil car part animal For a few miles no one in the party spoke. The auto puffed slowly along, the horsemen managing to keep up to it. “How do we know we’re on the right road?” asked Noddy at length. “We may have gone astray in the darkness.” Tom Dalsett took a lantern and made a careful survey of the highway. He came back presently. “We’re all right,” he said. “There are auto tracks just ahead of us. We may come up to them any minute now.” Once more Noddy’s auto, which he had stopped to let Dalsett out, started up. The pace was swift and silent. But as they penetrated farther and farther into the depths of the forest there was no sign of the boys and the professor, who, by this time, were in the underground city. slowness animal navigation equipment sound speed forest “I don’t believe we’ll find them,” spoke Jack Pender. “Let’s camp now and take up the trail in the morning, when you can see better.” “No; we must keep on,” said Vasco, firmly. “It is to-night or never. I can’t hold my men together any longer than that.” Off into the darkness puffed the auto. The men on horseback followed it, the whole party keeping close together, for several jaguars were seen near the path, having been driven from their usual haunts because of the scarcity of game. Every one was on the alert, watching for any signs of the travelers they were pursuing. Every now and then some one would get out and examine the road to see if the auto marks were still to be seen. They were there, and led straight on to the hidden city. night visibility sound animal It was some time past midnight and the machine was going over a good patch of road, when Jack Pender, who was seated beside Noddy, suddenly grabbed the steersman’s arm. “What’s that ahead in the road?” asked Jack. “I don’t see anything,” replied Noddy. “It’s your imagination. What does it look like?” “Like a big black shadow, bigger and blacker than any around here. Can’t you see it now? There it is! Stop the machine, quick!” night road condition passenger driver visibility Noddy, peering through the gloom, saw what seemed to be a patch of shadows. He gave the levers quick yanks, jammed down the brakes and tried to bring the machine to a stop. But he was too late. With a plunge the car sank through the earth and rushed along the inclined plane down which Jerry and his friends had coasted a few hours before. There were wild cries of fear, mingled with the shrill neighing of horses, for some of the riders and their steeds also went down the trap that had been laid. The auto remained upright and shot along the floor of the tunnel to which it had fallen, undergoing the same experience as had the machine of Jerry and his friends. Then, with a crash that resounded through the confines of the ancient city, Noddy and his machine and all who were in it brought up against the massive door closing the tunnel, which portal Jerry had swung shut after he and his friends had passed through. Following the crash there came an ominous silence. driver skill visibility car part accident sound animal Chapter XXII. - Face to Face (163-170) accident sound city CHAPTER XXII. FACE TO FACE. “Hark! What was that?” whispered San Lucia to Murado. The two old brigands paused in their stealthy march upon their sleeping victims, as the sound of the crash Noddy’s auto made came faintly to their ears. “How should I know?” asked Murado, but he seemed alarmed. “It sounded in the tunnel,” went on San Lucia. “Some one is coming! Quick! Let us hide! Another night will do for our work.” sound accident night Thereupon the two old villains, alarmed by the terror of the noise caused by they knew not what, hesitated and then fled as silently as they had advanced. For the time the lives of the boys and the professor had been saved. San Lucia and Murado went to their hiding place in the old temple, the building being so large and rambling that it would have hidden a score of men with ease. It may be added here that they did not dare to touch many things in the ancient city, thinking them bewitched. All unmindful of the danger which had menaced them, our travelers slept on, nothing disturbing them, and they did not hear the noise made by Noddy’s tumble, though they were not far from the mouth of the tunnel. “I say!” called Bob, sitting up and looking at his watch in a sunbeam that came through a broken window. “I say, are you fellows going to sleep all day? It’s nearly eight o’clock, and I want some breakfast.” “Oh, of course it’s something to eat as soon as you open your eyes!” exclaimed Jerry. “I should think you would take something to bed with you, Chunky, and put it under your pillow so you could eat in the night whenever you felt hungry.” “That’s all right,” snapped Bob, “but I notice we don’t have to call you twice to come to your meals.” “Is it morning?” called the professor from his cot. “Long ago,” replied Bob, who was dressing. “I wonder if the folks that lived in this temple ever washed. I’d like to strike a bathroom about now.” “Hark! I hear something!” exclaimed the professor. They all listened intently. “It’s running water,” said the naturalist, “and close by. Perhaps there’s a wash-room in this temple.” “I’m going to see what’s behind this door,” said Bob, pointing to a portal none of them had noticed in the darkness. He pushed it open and went inside. The next instant he uttered a joyful cry: “Come here, fellows! It’s a plunge bath!” Then they heard him spring in and splash about. Jerry and Ned soon followed, and the professor came a little later. It was a regular swimming-tank, stone-lined and sunk into the floor. The water came in through a sort of stone trough. “These old chaps knew something about life, after all,” observed Ned, as he climbed out and proceeded to dry himself. “They were probably a bit like the Romans,” remarked the professor, “and fond of bathing. But something has given me an appetite, and I wouldn’t object to breakfast.” The others were of the same mind, and soon Ned had the gasolene stove set up and was preparing a meal. Bob attended to the brewing of the coffee instead of chocolate, and the aroma of the beverage filled the old temple with an appetizing odor. “What are we going to do to-day?” asked Jerry, when they had finished the meal and were sitting comfortably on some low stools that had been discovered in the room where they slept. “We must explore the city in all directions,” said the professor. “There are many marvelous things here, and I have not begun to find them yet. It will take weeks and weeks.” “Are we going to stay here all that while?” asked Bob, somewhat dubiously. “I’d like to,” answered the naturalist. “But we can get a good load of specimens and relics, run up north and come back for more. This place is a regular treasure-trove.” Clearing away the remains of the breakfast, and looking over the auto to see that it had suffered no damage in the recent experience, the boys and the professor left the temple and strolled out into the deserted city. They did not know that their every movement was watched by the glittering eyes of San Lucia and Murado, who were hidden in an upper part of the temple whence they could look down on their intended victims from a small, concealed gallery. maintenance city By full daylight the ancient city was even more wonderful than it had appeared in the waning light of the previous afternoon. In the days of its glory it was evident it had been a beautiful place. The travelers entered some of the better-preserved houses. They found the rooms filled with fine furniture, of a rude but simple and pleasing character, some of the articles being well preserved. One house they visited seemed to have belonged to some rich man, for it was filled with things that once had been of great beauty. “There is something that should interest me!” exclaimed the professor, as he caught sight of a small cabinet on the wall. “That must contain curios.” He found his supposition right, and fairly reveled in the objects that were treasures to him, but not worth much to any one else. There were ancient coins, rings and other articles of jewelry and hundreds of bugs, beetles and minerals. “Whoever lived here was a wise and learned man,” observed the naturalist. “I shall take his whole collection back with me, since it is going to ruin here, and it belongs to no one.” “There will be no room for any of us in the auto if you keep on collecting things,” observed Jerry. But this seemed to make no difference to the professor. He went right on collecting as if he had a freight car at his disposal. The travelers continued on their way, exploring the different buildings here and there. “I’m tired,” announced Bob, suddenly. “You fellows can go on, if you want to, but I’m going to sit down and take a rest.” He found a comfortable place in the shade, where a stone ledge was built against the side of a ruined house, and sat down. Jerry and Ned followed his example, for they, too, were leg-weary. “I’ll just take a look through this one place, and then we’ll go back and have dinner,” said the professor. He entered the structure, against which the boys were sitting. It was a small, one-storied affair, and did not look as if it would contain anything of value. The naturalist had not been inside five minutes before the boys heard him calling, in excited tones: “Come quick, boys!” They ran in, to behold Professor Snodgrass with his arm stuck in a hole in the wall. He seemed to be pulling at something. “What is it?” cried Jerry. “A gila monster,” replied the professor. “I saw him and I got him.” “It looks as if he had you,” answered Ned. “He tried to get away, but I grabbed him by the tail as he was going in his hole,” went on the naturalist. “Now he’s got his claws dug down in the dirt and I can’t pull him out. Come out of there, my beauty!” he cried, addressing his remarks to the hidden gila monster. “Come out, my pet!” Then, with a sudden yank the professor succeeded in drawing the animal from its burrow. It was a repulsive-looking creature of the lizard variety, and as the professor held it up by the tail it wiggled and tried to escape. “Now I have you, my little darling!” the naturalist cried, popping his prize into his collecting-box. “That would never take a prize at a beauty show,” observed Ned. “I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.” “Well, this has been a most profitable day,” went on the collector, as, with the boys, he turned toward their residence in the old temple. “I must come back this afternoon for the cabinet of curios.” Without further incident, save that nearly every step of the homeward journey the professor stopped to pick up some relic, the travelers reached the temple. “Here goes for another bath!” cried Bob, running toward the room where the plunge was. “I’m nearly melted by the heat.” “I’m with you!” said Jerry. Suddenly they heard the professor’s voice calling them. “I wonder what in the world is the matter now?” said Jerry. He and Bob hurried outside where they had left the naturalist and Ned. They found the pair gazing down the street toward the tunnel entrance. And as they gazed they saw the big door swing slowly open, while from the passage came Noddy Nixon, Vasco Bilette and the others of their crowd. A low cry of surprise broke from Noddy as he stood face to face with the very persons he and Vasco were seeking. Chapter XXIII. - Bobby is Kidnapped (171-178) CHAPTER XXIII. BOB IS KIDNAPPED. For a minute or two the unexpected encounter so astonished all concerned that no one spoke. Noddy seemed ill at ease from meeting his former acquaintances, but Vasco Bilette smiled in an evil way. Chance had thrown in his path the very person he wanted. Tom Dalsett was the first to speak. “Well, we meet again,” he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness. “How do you all do?” “I don’t know that we’re any the better for seeing you,” remarked Professor Snodgrass, who was plain-spoken at times. “Oh, but I assure you it’s a sight for sore eyes to get a glimpse of you once more,” went on Tom. “Besides, this is a free city, you know, even if it is an old, underground one; and we have as much right here as you have.” “True enough,” broke in Jerry. “But you may as well know, first as last, that we’re done fooling with you and your gang, Noddy Nixon. If you annoy us again there’s going to be trouble!” Noddy did not reply. He seemed anxious to get away, but Dalsett and Vasco urged him to stay, and they had secured quite an influence over the youth. “We must have come in by the same passage you did,” went on Dalsett. “You left it open behind you. We were wandering around in the dark tunnel until we discovered this door a little while ago. Lucky, wasn’t it?” “For you chaps, yes,” commented Ned. “Some of us were nearly killed in the tumble,” went on Dalsett. “We got out of it rather well, on the whole.” “You’d better come inside and have nothing more to say to him,” said the professor to his friends. “This spoils all our plans.” “Never mind; perhaps we can give them the slip among the ruins,” said Jerry. He went back into the ancient temple, and the others followed him. Noddy continued to stare as if he thought the whole thing was a dream. As for Vasco and Dalsett, they were much pleased with the turn affairs had taken. But the Mexicans were excited. Several of them had been bruised by the fall into the tunnel, and they wanted to proceed at once and kidnap Bob, so they could get the ransom money. But Vasco would not permit this. He did not believe in using force when he could use stealth. Besides, he was a coward, and afraid of getting hurt, if it came to a fight. “Let them go,” he said to his men, who murmured as they saw their prospective captive and his friends retreat into the temple. “Let them go. They can’t get away from here without letting us know. We are better off than before. We can capture the fat boy whenever we want to now.” With that, Vasco’s followers had to be content. As Dalsett had said, Noddy and his cronies, after groping about in the dark tunnel for some time, had finally discovered the door by which the boys and the professor had entered the ancient city. They had pushed it open and come face to face with our friends. “Bah!” exclaimed one of the Mexicans. “It is always to-morrow and to-morrow in this business. Let us fight them! Let us get the captive and let us share the ransom.” “We’ll do the trick to-night, sure,” promised Vasco. “To-night, positively, we will kidnap Bob.” Meanwhile, all unconscious of the fate in store for him, Bob was making a substantial meal, for the travelers had begun to get dinner after withdrawing from the front of the temple. They talked of little save the appearance of Noddy and his followers. “How do you suppose he ever got here?” asked Bob. “Simply followed us,” said Jerry. “We left a plain enough trail. Besides, automobiles are scarce in Mexico, and any one seeing ours pass by would easily remember it and tell whoever came along afterward, making inquiries.” “What had we better do?” asked Ned. “Stay here or go away?” “There’ll be more or less trouble if we stay,” was Jerry’s opinion. “Supposing we go away for a while and come back. If Noddy is after us we may give him the slip and return.” “How are we going to get out of this place?” asked Bob. “We can’t go back through the tunnel we came in, as they are now on guard there.” “There must be more than one entrance to this city,” spoke the professor. “I think I’ll go and hunt for another. When we find it we can take the automobile with us and escape to-night. I wish to be the first person to announce this discovery to the world.” “That’s the idea!” exclaimed Ned. “I’ll go along to help hunt for another passage, while Bob and Jerry can stay on guard.” “In the meanwhile I’m going to have my swim,” said Bob. He went into the tank-room, and immediately uttered a cry. “What’s the matter?” called Jerry. “The water has all run out,” replied Bob, “and there’s a big hole here!” The others came in on the run. They saw that the swimming-pool was empty. Only a little water remained on the bottom in small puddles. They also saw that the pool was made with an incline of stone leading from the floor level down to the bottom. In the side opposite from where the incline was a big black hole showed itself. When the water was at the normal level this hole was invisible. Once the water had lowered it was plain to see. “What made the water go out?” asked Bob. “Probably a gate at the end of the tunnel leading from the tank was opened,” replied the naturalist. “Or it may be an automatic arrangement, so that when the tank gets filled up to a certain height the water shuts itself off. So we’ll defer our bath until the water rises. Perhaps the tides may have some effect on it. We can only wait and see.” “That tunnel is big enough to drive our auto through,” observed Bob. A sudden thought came to Jerry. He whispered to the professor. “Of course it could be done,” replied the scientist after consideration, “but there is the danger of the water rising suddenly while we are in the tunnel. Jerry talks of escaping by means of this new shaft,” went on the professor. “We could run the auto down the incline and so out. But we must investigate the place.” The naturalist walked down the incline. Straight in front of them, as they neared it, yawned the black mouth of the passage. The professor would not let the boys come in until he had made an investigation. He walked quite a distance down the shaft and returned. He seemed in deep thought. “It will be safe to use the tunnel,” he said. “It appears that the water was siphoned out. There is another tank or reservoir connected with this one. They both seem to be fed by springs. When the other tank, which is below the level and to one side, gets full of water, the fluid is siphoned out. As that tank is connected with the one we used, by a pipe, as soon as the water goes out of the first tank, that in the second follows to keep the first tank filled. And so it goes on, from day to day, repeating the operation once every twenty-four hours, I would judge. So we have plenty of time. The tunnel leads to one like that by which we entered the city. I have no doubt but that we can escape through it.” If the professor and the boys could at this time have seen two evil faces peering down at them from a high balcony, they might not have felt so comfortable. San Lucia and Murado were on the lookout, and every move the travelers made was watched. It was decided to make the escape that night. Accordingly, after supper, the automobile was prepared for a long trip. Things were packed in it, and the professor took along his beloved specimens. “How are we going to get the car down the incline?” asked Bob. “I can take it down, all right,” replied Jerry. night maintenance equipment animal At length all was in readiness. Jerry and Ned took the front seat, Bob cranked up the car, which was still inside the old temple, and then joined the professor on the rear seat. “All ready?” asked Jerry. “All ready,” replied Bob. “Yes, and we are ready, too!” came in a whisper from the ruined doorway of the temple, where Vasco Bilette and his men were in hiding, watching the flight of the travelers. The Mexican had guessed some sort of an attempt to escape would be made, and was on hand to frustrate it. But the preparations made for taking the auto down into the empty water pool puzzled Vasco. So he was on the alert. “Here we go!” called Jerry, softly. The auto was vibrating, but almost noiselessly, for the explosions of the motor could scarcely be heard. passenger driver haptic sound Down the incline Jerry took the heavy car, without a mishap. Straight for the open mouth of the tunnel he steered it. It was as dark as pitch now, but the lamps on the car gave good illumination. “Come on, we have them now!” cried Vasco to his followers. “The boy is in the back seat!” The Mexicans ran down the incline. By this time the machine was well into the mouth of the shaft. Hearing footsteps behind him, resounding on the stone pavement, Jerry shut off the power for a moment. As he did so the car was surrounded by ugly-looking brigands, who had run up at a signal from Vasco. skill metaphor visibility car part nationality sound “Quick! Grab him!” cried Dalsett. “I have him!” replied Vasco. He reached up, and, though Bob was a heavy lad, the Mexican, with the help of Dalsett, pulled him over the rear seat. Bob fought, kicked and struggled. It was of no avail. Then a sack was quickly thrown over his head, and the men ran back out of the tunnel and up the incline, bearing Chunky with them. “Bob’s been kidnapped!” shouted the professor. “Turn the auto around, Jerry, and chase after them!” risk nationality passenger speed Chapter XXIV. - Bob Tries to Flee (179-186) night risk slowness visibility CHAPTER XXIV. BOB TRIES TO FLEE. In an instant Jerry tried to turn the auto around. He found the passage too narrow. There was nothing to do but to back up the incline. This was a slow process in the darkness. “Fire at them!” cried Ned. “No. You might hit Bob!” said the professor. “We must chase after the brigands. This is what they have been following us for. I wonder what they want of Bob?” No one could guess. By this time Jerry had run the machine up the inclined plane and into the temple. Then he sent it out into the street. It was as dark as a pocket and not a trace of the kidnappers could be seen, nor could they be heard. The capture of Bob came as a terrible blow. skill road condition slowness risk visibility night “Let’s take to the tunnel where we came in!” cried Ned. “Perhaps they are hiding there.” “If they are, they are well armed, and their force is three times what ours is now,” said the professor. “If we are to help Bob we will have to do it by strategy rather than by force. Come, we had better go back to the temple. We can make our plans from there.” “Poor Chunky!” groaned Jerry. “I wonder what they are doing to him now?” “I guess it was his money-belt they wanted more than they did him,” put in Ned. “You know he carried what was left of the five hundred dollars.” “That’s so!” exclaimed Jerry, with a rueful face. “Never mind the money; I have plenty,” put in the naturalist. “And don’t worry; we’ll find Bob yet.” Nothing could be done that night, so the professor and the two boys tried to get what sleep their troubled minds would allow. In the morning they made a hurried breakfast and then held a consultation. It was decided to explore the tunnel by which they had entered the city, and see if it still held the brigands and Noddy’s crowd. Arming themselves, the professor, Ned and Jerry advanced carefully through the big wooden gate. They proceeded cautiously, but no one opposed them. The tunnel was deserted. They came to the hole where they had tumbled down. The inclined plane of planks was there, in the same position as when the cave-in, produced by Murado, had occurred. “They have probably gone back up here and are running across country,” remarked Ned. “Hello!” he exclaimed. “What’s that?” He picked up a small object that lay at the foot of the incline, in the glare of the sunlight that streamed in from above. “That’s Bob’s knife,” said Jerry. “He had it yesterday. That shows he must have been here since. There is no doubt but that they have carried him away from here.” The professor agreed that this was probably the case. There was nothing left to do, so they returned to the temple. “I hardly know what to do,” said the naturalist. “We might take the automobile and ride off, not knowing where, in a vain endeavor to find Bob. Or we can stay here on the chance that he may escape and come back. If we went away he would not know where to find us. “Then, too, I am hopeful we may hear something from Noddy Nixon or some of those Mexicans he had with him. Those fellows are regular brigands, and may have captured Bob, thinking we will pay a ransom for his return. On the whole, I think we had better stay here for a few days.” This seemed the best thing to do. With heavy hearts, Jerry and Ned wandered about the old temple, wishing their chum was back with them. The professor began to gather more specimens and made several trips to the old buildings where he got many curios of value. Meanwhile, poor Bob was having his own troubles. At the first rough attack of the kidnappers, when he was hauled over the back of the auto, he did not know what had happened. He supposed it was some accident, such as the tunnel caving in or the water suddenly rising. But when he found himself held by two men, and the bag thrown over his head, he realized that he was a captive, though he did not know why any one would want him. Holding him between them, Vasco and Dalsett ran back into the bath and up the incline, followed by Noddy and the Mexicans. Berry and Pender had been left in charge of the auto and horses, which were in the first tunnel. Bob, who had not attempted to struggle after his first involuntary kicking when he was hauled out, decided that his captors were having too easy a time of it. He was by no means a baby, and though he was fat he had considerable muscle. So he began to beat about with his fists, and to kick with his heavy shoes, in a manner that made it very uncomfortable for Vasco and Dalsett. “Quit that, you young cub, or I’ll hurt you!” exclaimed Vasco. “Yes, an’ I’ll do the same!” growled Dalsett, and, recognizing the voice, Bob knew for the first time into whose hands he had fallen. He did not heed the command to stop struggling, and it was all the two men could do to hold him. Suddenly they laid him down. “Look here!” exclaimed Dalsett, sitting on Bob to keep him still, “if you want us to tie you up like a steer we’re willin’ to do it. An’ we’ll gag you into the bargain. If you quit wigglin’ you’ll be treated decent.” “Then you take this bag off my head!” demanded Bob, with some spirit. “I will if you promise to walk an’ not make us carry you,” promised Dalsett. “I’ll walk until I get a good chance to get away,” replied Bob, determined to give no parole. “Mighty little chance you have of gittin’ away,” remarked Dalsett, as he removed the sack. It was as dark as a pocket, and Bob wondered where he was. Soon one of the men came with a lantern, and by the gleam the captive could see he was in the tunnel. “Come on!” ordered Vasco. Walking in the midst of his captors, Bob came to the foot of the incline. There he found Noddy, Pender and Bill Berry in the auto. The Mexicans had their horses in readiness for a flight. night visibility equipment car animal nationality “They’re going to take me away,” thought Bob. “I wonder how I can give the boys and the professor a sign so they will know that?” His fingers came in contact with his knife and that gave him an idea. He dropped the implement on the ground, where it was found by his friends later. “Is everything ready?” asked Vasco. “I guess so,” replied Noddy. “Shall I run the machine up the incline?” “Go ahead,” said Dalsett. “We’ll walk with our young friend here. I reckon the car will have trouble gittin’ up the hill if too many gits in it.” “Come on, you fellows!” ordered Vasco of his Mexicans. “We have the captive now, and you’ll soon be dividing the ransom money.” He spoke in Spanish, which Bob could not understand. The boy was at a loss why so many should be interested in him, but laid it all to a plot of Noddy’s to get square. It was quite a pull for the auto, up the steep incline, but Noddy, by using the low gear, managed it. The horses and their riders had less trouble, and soon the whole party stood in the road near the tunnel that led to the underground city. nationality topography skill slowness animal Bob was placed on a small pony, and his hands were tied behind his back. Then, with a Mexican riding before and after him, and one on each side, the cavalcade started off. For several hours the journey was kept up. No one said much, and poor Bob puzzled his brains trying to think what it all meant. One thing he determined on: that he would try to escape at the first opportunity. It came sooner than he expected. He had been working at the bonds on his hands and found, to his joy, that the rope was coming loose. In their hurry, Vasco and Dalsett had not tied it very securely. In a little while Bob had freed his wrists, but he kept his hands behind his back, to let his captors think he was still bound. He waited until he came to a level stretch of land. Then, at a time when the Mexican in the rear had ridden off to one side to borrow a cigarette of a comrade, Bob slipped from the pony’s back. He struck the ground rather hard, but here his fat served him in good stead, for he was not hurt much. Then he rolled quickly out of the way of the horses’ feet. Jumping up, he ran at top speed off to the left. Instantly the cavalcade was in confusion. Vasco and Dalsett came riding back to see what the trouble was. They saw Bob bounding away. “After him!” shouted Vasco, drawing his revolver and firing in the air to scare Bob. “After him! He’s worth ten thousand dollars!” The Mexicans spurred their horses after the fugitive, while Noddy, turning the auto around, lighted the search-lamp and sent the light through the blackness to pick out Bob so the others could find him in the darkness. On and on ran the boy, and after him thundered the horses of his pursuers, coming nearer and nearer. speed animal weapon risk nationality visibility car part night Chapter XXV. - An Unexpected Friend (187-194) CHAPTER XXV. AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND. It was too uneven a chase to last long. Bob soon found that his enemies were gaining on him, and he resolved to play a trick. He came to a big rock and dropped down behind it, hiding in the shadow. For a time the Mexicans were baffled, but they spread about in a half circle and Bob could hear them gradually surrounding him. Still he hoped to escape detection. “Can’t you find him?” he heard Noddy call. “He seems to have given us the slip,” replied Vasco. “But we’ll get him yet.” Noddy sent the searchlight of the automobile all about the rock behind which Bob was hidden, but the deep shadow cast protected the boy. risk skill visibility car part At length, however, one of the Mexicans approached the place. At the same instant Bob was seized with an uncontrollable desire to sneeze. His nose tickled and, though he held his breath and did everything he had ever read about calculated to prevent sneezes, the tickling increased. Finally he gave voice to a loud “Ka-choo!” “Diablo!” exclaimed the nearest Mexican. “What have we here?” He was at the rock in an instant and lost no time in grabbing Bob. The boy tried to struggle and escape again, but his captor held him in a firm grip. The Mexican set up a shout at the discovery of his prize, which speedily brought Vasco and his comrades to the scene. “So, you didn’t care much for our company,” observed Bilette. “But never mind, we think so much of you that we run after you wherever you go. Now we have you again!” and he laughed in an unpleasant manner. “I don’t see what you want of me,” remarked Bob, as he was led back and placed on his pony. “Ah, perhaps you are not aware that you are worth much money to us,” said Vasco. “I’ll give you all I have if you’ll let me go,” said Bob. “That is something we overlooked,” said Dalsett. “Take his money, Vasco. He may have a few dollars.” In another minute Bob’s money-belt, with the best part of five hundred dollars, was in the possession of the Mexicans. He wished he had kept still. “This is doing very well,” observed Vasco, as he counted over the bills with glistening eyes. “This is very well indeed, and most unexpected. But we want more than this.” “It is all I have,” answered Bob. “But your people, your father has more,” went on the Mexican. “I think if you were to write him a letter, stating that you were about to be killed unless he sent ten thousand dollars, he would be glad to give us the small amount.” “I’ll never write such a letter!” exclaimed Bob. “You can kill me if you want to!” “You’ll think differently in the morning,” remarked Vasco. “Here, you fellows, tie him up so he can’t get away again!” This time the ropes were knotted so tightly about the boy’s arms and legs that he knew he could not work them loose. He was thrown over the back of the pony and the cavalcade started off again. All night long the march continued, the men on their horses and Noddy and his friends in the auto. Poor Bob felt sick at heart over his failure to escape and the knowledge, conveyed to him in Vasco’s remarks, that he was being held for ransom. Just as day was beginning to break, the party reached a small Mexican village and preparations were made to spend some time there. Vasco and his men seemed to know the place well, for they were greeted by many of the inhabitants of the place who had arisen early. Noddy ran the automobile under a shed and then the whole crowd, taking Bob with them, went to a large house at the end of the principal street, where they evidently intended to make their headquarters. nationality rural parking Bob was taken to a small room on the second floor, facing the courtyard, which is a feature of all Mexican homes. His bonds were released and he was thrust roughly inside. The apartment was bare enough. There were a table, a chair and a bed in the room. The only window was guarded by heavy iron bars, and the single door was fastened with a massive lock. “I guess I’ll have trouble getting out of here,” said Bob to himself. “It’s a regular prison. I wonder if they’re going to starve me?” He began to suffer for want of water, and his stomach cried for food. He had some thought of pounding on the walls and demanding to be fed, when the door opened and a girl quickly entered, setting on the table a tray of food. She was gone before Bob had a chance to get a good look at her, but he saw that she was young and pretty, attired as she was in gay Mexican colors. Though the meal was not very appetizing, it tasted to Bob as if it was the best dinner ever served. He felt better after eating it, and more hopeful. For several days he was held a captive in the room. One evening Vasco Bilette and Tom Dalsett paid him a visit. “We have brought a paper for you to sign,” said Vasco. “I will sign nothing,” replied Bob. “I think you will, my boy,” spoke the Mexican. “Bring in the charcoal, Tom.” Dalsett went out and returned with a small, portable clay stove in which burned some charcoal. Heating in the flames was an iron used for branding cattle. “You can take your choice of signing this or of seeing how you look with a hot iron on,” said Vasco. “This paper is a letter to your father, telling him you have been captured by brigands, who will not let you go excepting they are paid ten thousand dollars.” “I’ll never sign!” replied Bob, firmly. “Then brand him!” cried Vasco. One of the Mexicans took the iron from the fire. It glowed with a white, cruel heat. At the sight of it Bob’s courage melted away. At the same time a plan came into his head. “I’ll sign!” he exclaimed. “I thought you would,” observed Vasco. “Put your name here.” He handed Bob a letter, written to Mr. Baker, whose name and address Noddy Nixon had supplied. In brief, it demanded that ten thousand dollars be sent to the brigands and left in a lonely spot mentioned, if Mr. Baker did not want to hear of the death of his son. Any attempt to capture the writers, the missive stated, would be met with the instant killing of the boy. “Sign there,” said Vasco, indicating the place. Bob did so. At the same time he placed beneath his signature a scrawl and a row of figures. To the Mexicans figures meant nothing, and it is doubtful if they observed them. But to Mr. Baker they spelled out the message: “Send no money. I can get away.” They were figures in a secret cypher bank code that Mr. Baker sometimes used, and which Bob had learned. “I guess that will fool them,” thought the boy, as he saw his captors take away the letter. For the next few days nothing occurred. Bob was kept a close prisoner in his room, and the only person he saw was the girl who brought him food. He tried to talk to her, but she did not seem to understand English. The captive was beginning to despair. He feared he would never see his friends again, for he did not believe his father would send the money, and without it he was sure the desperate men would kill him. His confidence in his ability to escape lessened as the days went by. He tried to pick the lock on his door, and loosen a bar at the window, but without success. It was the fifth day of his captivity and the Mexican girl came to bring him his supper. To Bob’s surprise, this time she did not hurry away. She set the tray of food down and looked at him anxiously. “You want go?” she asked, in a broken accent. “You mean escape? Get away from here? Leave?” asked Bob, taking sudden hope. “Um! Go ’way. Leave bad mans! Maximina help! You go?” “Of course,” replied Bob. “But how are you going to manage it?” “Wait till dark. Me come. You go, we go. Leave bad mans. Me no like it here. Bad mans whip Maximina.” By which Bob understood that the girl would come when it got dark and help him to escape, accompanying him because she herself had been ill treated by the Mexicans. “Be good boy! Me come. You glad!” she said, in a whisper. Just then the sound of voices was heard outside the room, in the corridor. “Hush! No tell!” cautioned the girl as she glided from the room. Bob began to eat his supper. His heart was in a flutter of hope. “Queer why that money don’t come,” he heard Vasco say, outside. “We’ll have to do something pretty soon.” It was getting dark now, and Bob waited anxiously. Chapter XXVI. - The Escape of Maximina (195-203) night speed risk CHAPTER XXVI. THE ESCAPE OF MAXIMINA. Several hours passed. Bob was beginning to think Maximina had forgotten her promise, when he heard a soft footstep outside. Then came a gentle tapping at his door. It was unlocked from the outside, opened, and the Mexican girl stepped in. “Hush!” she whispered. “We go now. All bad mans gone to feast—holiday. We go. Put on cloak.” She gave Bob a long, dark serape, and produced one for herself. Little time was lost. Led by Maximina, Bob passed out into the dark corridor, down the stairs and through the courtyard, out of the house, under the silent stars that twinkled in the sky. “This way!” whispered the girl. “We ride ponies. No one here, we take horses. Where you live?” Bob was at a loss what to do. He wondered how he could make Maximina, whose language he could not speak, and who could talk but imperfectly in his, understand about the underground city. Equally hard would it be to make her comprehend where he lived and how to start for the nearest large city in order to get help or communicate with his friends. He remembered that his captors had brought him almost directly north as they sped away from the buried city. So he thought the best thing to do would be to ride to the south, when he might see some landmark that would aid him in locating himself. “We’ll go this way,” he said, pointing in a direction opposite to that of the north star, which he saw blazing in the sky. “All right,” exclaimed the Mexican girl. She leaped to the back of one of two ponies she had brought from the stable. Bob was not so expert, but managed to get into the saddle. So far they had met no one, nor had they heard the sound of any of the Mexicans. As Maximina had said, all of the men were away to a feast, one of the numerous ones celebrated in the country. Even Noddy and his friends had gone, so there was no one left to guard Bob but the girl. Away they rode, urging their ponies to a gallop. Bob was fearful that at every turn of the road he would meet with some of Vasco’s men, but the highway appeared to be deserted. “Me glad to go. Bad mans steal Maximina years ago,” said the girl, after half an hour’s ride. “Me want to get back to own people.” “I wish I could help you,” said Bob, “but I’m about as badly off as you are. The Mexicans stole me, too.” “We both same, like orphans,” said Maximina. “Never min’. Maybe we find our folks.” By degrees she brokenly told Bob her story, how she had been kidnapped by Vasco when she was a child, and how he had kept her because her father was too poor to pay the ransom demanded. She had gradually come to be regarded as a regular inmate of the Mexican camp, which, it seemed, was an organized headquarters for kidnappers and brigands generally. She had never thought of escaping before, she said, but when she saw Bob she felt sorry for him and resolved to free not only him, but herself. “We ride faster,” she said, after several miles had been covered. “Gettin’ late. Men come back from feast find us gone, they ride after.” She urged her pony to a gallop and Bob’s animal followed its leader. “If I only had a revolver or a gun I’d shoot some of them if they tried to take us back,” Bob said to himself. “I hope we can get away.” In a small village, about ten miles from the camp of the Mexicans, Vasco and his friends were having a great time. There were wild music and dancing, and plenty of food well seasoned with red pepper. The Mexicans were having what they called fun. Noddy, with Jack and Bill Berry, looked on, taking no part in the revels. They had come over in the automobile, while Vasco and his gang rode their horses. night pleasure nationality animal rural It was past midnight when the leader of the Mexicans decided that it was time to start for home. “Come on,” he said. “Who knows but what our prisoner has escaped.” “Not much danger of that,” said Dalsett. “I told Maximina that if he got away we’d hold her responsible and give her a good lashing. She’ll not let him get away.” But neither Dalsett nor Vasco knew what they were talking about. The Mexicans were reluctant to leave the dance, but Vasco insisted. Soon the whole party was riding back to camp, Noddy being in advance in his auto. night nationality risk animal car He was the first to reach the kidnappers’ headquarters. Dalsett was with him. “I wonder how our captive is?” said the latter. He went up to the room where Bob had been locked up. To his surprise and anger, the apartment was empty. “Maximina!” he called. There was no answer. “They’ve gone!” he exclaimed. “Here, Noddy, ride back and meet Vasco. Tell him Bob has got away!” The automobile was sent flying down the road. Vasco Bilette and his party were met and the news quickly imparted. “We’ll catch ’em!” cried the Mexican. “They have only a few hours’ start, and only two slow ponies to ride on. Here, I’ll go in the auto with Noddy. You fellows come after me!” Vasco took Jack Pender’s place in the machine and soon the chase was on. Vasco rightly concluded that Bob and Maximina would head for the south, so he, too, took the road leading in that direction. Noddy speeded up the car, under Vasco’s directions. Faster and faster it raced, the searchlight throwing out a glaring beam far in advance. speed animal passenger car part visibility night road Meanwhile, Bob and Maximina were making all speed possible. Every now and then the girl would halt her pony and listen intently. “They no come yet,” she would say. “No can hear horses comin’ after us. We get ’way maybe.” Bob certainly hoped so. His experience as a captive was not such as to cause him to like the rôle, and he longed to be with his friends, who, he knew, must be greatly alarmed about him. It seemed to be getting darker as the two traveled on. “Be sunrise ’bout hour,” said Maximina, and Bob remembered that he had read about it being darkest just before daybreak. “We mus’ hide then,” the girl went on. Suddenly a sound came to them from over the dark fields that bordered the road. At the same time there was a shaft of light. “There they come!” cried Bob. “They’re after us in the automobile!” “Ride! Ride fast!” called Maximina, fiercely. “If they catch us they kill!” She lashed her pony with the short whip she carried, and struck Bob’s animal several smart blows. The two beasts leaped forward. But horses, especially small, Mexican ponies, are not built to race against large touring automobiles. Bob noticed that the chug-chug of Noddy’s machine came nearer and nearer. night visibility speed risk animal sound “Maybe we can hide from them in the darkness,” said Bob. “It’s our only chance. They’ll soon be up to us.” “No hide! Keep on ride!” exclaimed Maximina. “We git away!” But even as she spoke the searchlight picked them up and they were revealed in its blinding glare. A faint shout from their pursuers told that they had been seen. The ponies were tiring. Already Bob’s was staggering along as the pace told on it. Maximina’s was a little better off. “We have them!” Bob heard Vasco shout. “They are both together. Put a little more speed on, Noddy!” The chug-chugs of the auto told that the machine was being sent ahead at a faster clip. The searchlight glared more strongly on the fugitives. speed visibility risk animal sound car part “Cave somewhere near here,” said Maximina. “If we could find ’um we be safe. Ride more, Bob.” “This pony can’t go much farther,” replied the boy. “His legs are shaking now.” Crack! A flash of reddish fire cut the blackness, and a bullet sang unpleasantly close over Bob’s head. “They only shoot to scare!” cried Maximina. “They no want to kill you. Too valuable. Want ransom; much money; ten thousand dollars.” “All the same, it’s no fun to be shot at,” remarked Bob, urging his pony on. The automobile was now but a few hundred feet away. Noddy had to reduce his speed because the ground was getting rougher. “We’ll have them in another minute!” cried Vasco. At that instant, Bob’s pony, stepping in a hole, stumbled and fell, throwing the rider over its back. Bob struck the ground heavily and was stunned. road condition speed accident animal “Me stay with you!” exclaimed Maximina, reining in her pony and coming back to where Bob was. “No, no! You ride on!” the boy said, faintly. “Maybe you can find my friends and send help. They are in the underground city!” “All right. Me go! Bring help!” the girl whispered, and, leaping on her pony’s back, she rode off to one side, getting away from the glare of the searchlight and so escaping observation. animal visibility speed Two minutes later the auto came up to where Bob was stretched out on the ground. Vasco leaped out before the machine had fairly stopped and made a grab for Bob. “The boy is dead!” he exclaimed. “Dead!” faltered Noddy. He was beginning to be alarmed over the part he had played. “Bring a light here!” commanded the Mexican. Noddy turned the search-lamp on Bob’s prostrate form. At that the boy opened his eyes. He had fainted from pain caused by his fall. “Shamming, eh?” sneered Vasco, striking Bob a blow with a rope he carried. “Get up, now! No nonsense; you’ve made trouble enough!” passenger car health risk visibility car part Poor Bob was too discouraged and felt too bad to reply. The other Mexicans rode up. In a few minutes the captive was securely bound, lifted into the auto, and, as dawn broke, the start back to camp was made. “Don’t you want Maximina?” asked Dalsett. “Let her go,” replied Vasco. “She was only a bother around, and never liked to work. She can’t do any harm.” animal passenger safety Chapter XXVII. - A Strange Message (204-211) CHAPTER XXVII. A STRANGE MESSAGE. The days were full of anxiety for the professor, Jerry and Ned, who still remained in the ancient city after Bob had been kidnapped. Every night they went to bed, hoping some word would be received by morning, or that the missing one would return. Every morning they said to each other: “Well, something will happen to-morrow.” But nothing happened, and, as day after day went by, they began to lose hope. “We may as well leave here,” said Ned. “Not yet,” Jerry replied. “I am sure we will have some word from Bob soon now.” In the meanwhile, they made trips in all directions from the ancient city. But there was no trace of the Mexicans. The country was uninhabited for twenty miles in every direction from the buried place, and farther than that the travelers did not venture. “We must be here every night,” said the professor. “Somehow, I feel that Bob will come back at night, or we will hear something from him after dark. So we do not want to be away then, for if he should come, or if he should send some word, we would not be here to receive it.” For that reason little was done toward hunting for the kidnapped boy. The travelers did not go so far but that they could get back by nightfall. They explored the city thoroughly and the professor found many more rare and valuable relics. His specimen boxes were full to overflowing, but still he kept searching. The boys occupied themselves by getting the meals and attending to the camp, for the naturalist bothered himself about nothing but his specimens. They still continued to reside in the old temple, which they found a comfortable place. “I wonder what we’ll do when our food gives out?” asked Ned one day when it was his turn to get the dinner. “Why, haven’t we got plenty for several weeks yet?” inquired Jerry. “It don’t look so to me,” said Ned, glancing in the box where the canned stuff was kept. “That’s queer,” remarked Jerry. “There aren’t any tomatoes left. Did you cook any since yesterday?” “You cooked yesterday,” retorted Ned. “Were there any then?” “Six cans,” said Jerry. “Now there are none left. I wonder if the professor took any?” “Any what?” asked the naturalist, coming into the temple just then. “Tomatoes,” replied Jerry, explaining what he and Ned had been talking about. “No; I haven’t touched a can,” said the professor. “Then some one has, and it isn’t us,” was Ned’s opinion. “I wonder if there is any one in this temple but ourselves?” “Now that you speak of it, I think there is,” went on the naturalist. “The other night I was restless and could not sleep well. I was looking out of the door of our bedroom, into the main apartment, when I saw something white moving. At first I thought it was one of you boys, but I looked over on your cots and saw you both were sleeping. Then I thought it might be a white monkey, for I have heard there are such kinds, though I have never seen any. But when I looked a little closer I saw that it was a man wrapped in a long, white serape. “I didn’t give any alarm, for I was afraid of waking you boys. But I watched and saw the man go to our box and take out some cans of provisions. I meant to speak about it the next morning, but I forgot it.” “Who do you suppose it was?” asked Jerry. “Probably some poor wandering Mexican,” replied the professor. “He may have happened along, fallen into the passage leading to this old city and been half starved until he found our camp.” “We’ll have to look out, though,” said Ned. “We have hardly enough left for ourselves.” “Then we must keep watch to-night,” decided the professor. “It will not do for us to starve, though we will share what we have with any one who is in distress.” And so, that night, they took turns in mounting guard. None of them saw anything out of the ordinary, though had they been able to witness a scene that took place in an obscure gallery of the temple they would have been surprised. San Lucia and Murado were still hiding in the place, waiting their chance to get something of value from the travelers. The capture of Bob had upset the plans of the two aged brigands, and they were a little cautious about proceeding. But for several nights they had made raids on the improvised pantry Ned had constructed. “Are we to go again to-night?” asked San Lucia, on the evening when Ned made the discovery that led to the posting of the guard. “It remains to be seen,” replied Murado. “If we have no better luck than last night it is of little use.” “No; tomatoes are a poor substitute for gold,” agreed San Lucia. “I wonder if they have nothing but things to eat in those cans.” “Some of them must contain gold,” replied Murado. “They do it to fool us, but we will get the best of them yet. We will carry off every can they have until we get those containing the treasure.” For the two Mexicans believed that the travelers had packed their gold in the tin cans, of which there was a number. And each night San Lucia and Murado had stolen a few, hoping that some of them contained gold. Each time, on opening the tins, they had been disappointed. “I will go first to-night,” said San Lucia. “I feel that I will be successful. Once we get the gold we can leave this place.” About midnight he crept as softly as a cat upon the travelers. But, to his surprise, he found Jerry on guard and armed. San Lucia sneaked back to the balcony and told Murado. “They are becoming suspicious,” said the latter. “We will have to wait a while. Perhaps they may be sleeping to-morrow night.” But the two aged brigands never got another chance to attempt to rob the boys and the professor. Why this was we shall soon see. The next morning, on account of the watch that was kept, nothing was found disturbed. “We fooled somebody that time,” observed Ned. After breakfast the professor announced that he was going to visit the house where he had, on a previous call, captured the gila monster. “There was a cabinet there I overlooked,” he said. “Do you boys want to come along?” “There is nothing else to do,” said Jerry. “How I wish we would hear something from Bob! I think we ought to go out on a search for him. It doesn’t seem that he will ever come here, after all this time.” “I was thinking that myself,” said the professor. “If we hear nothing by to-morrow we will leave this place.” The boys accompanied the naturalist to the ruined house. It seemed strange to be walking through the streets of a place that had been inhabited thousands of years ago. The city was a silent one, a veritable city of the dead, and the houses and buildings seemed like tombstones that had toppled over from age. As Ned was walking about through the lower rooms of the house the professor had marked for exploration, he noticed a ring fastened to a square stone in the courtyard. “I wonder what this is for?” he said. “Looks as if it was meant to lift the stone up by,” replied Jerry. “Give us a hand,” said Ned, “and we’ll see what’s here.” The two boys pulled and tugged, but could not budge the stone. The professor happened along and saw them. “I’ll show you how to do it,” he said. He took a long pole and thrust it through the ring. Then, using the pole as a lever, he easily raised the stone. “Now let’s see what we have unearthed,” he remarked. The stone had covered a small hole. In it was a little casket of lead, the lid of which was locked. “We’ll have to break it open,” said Jerry. “Get a stone,” put in Ned. Jerry brought a large one. One or two heavy blows and the lid of the box flew off. There was a sudden sparkle of light and several white objects fell to the ground. “Diamonds!” cried the professor. “We have made a valuable discovery!” The box seemed full of jewels. There were stones of many colors, but most of all were the white, sparkling ones. “Maybe they’re only glass,” suggested Ned. “No; they are diamonds, rubies, turquoise and other precious stones,” replied the professor. “This was probably the jewel case of some Aztec millionaire.” They returned to their camp, carrying the jewels with them. As they entered the old building, Jerry, who was in the lead, started back. “There’s some one at our auto!” he exclaimed. “Nonsense!” replied the professor. “The place is deserted.” But he changed his mind a moment later. As he entered the room he saw a girlish figure clinging to the side of the car. She seemed to be almost dead, and had only strength enough left to mutter: “Bob; he want you! Vasco Bilette have him! Come quick!” Then she fell over in a faint. Chapter XXVIII. - To the Rescue (212-219) law animal speed risk CHAPTER XXVIII. TO THE RESCUE. “Who is she?” asked Ned. “I don’t know,” replied the professor, calmly. He seemed to take the appearance of a strange girl in the underground city as a happening that might occur at any time. “Where did she come from?” asked Jerry. “I can’t tell you that, either,” went on the naturalist. “One thing I can say, though, and that is, this poor girl needs help. She must be hungry, and she has traveled a long distance. Her clothes show that.” “What did she mean by speaking about Bob, saying Vasco Bilette had him, and for us to come quick?” asked Ned. “All that in good time,” replied the professor. “The thing to do now is to bring her out of her faint, and get her something to eat. Ned, you make the coffee and Jerry will heat some chicken soup. Hurry now, boys.” But the lads needed no urging. In a jiffy the camp-stove was going and hot coffee was soon ready. In the meanwhile the professor, by use of some simple remedies he always carried, brought the girl out of her faint. She opened her eyes and asked for a drink. The hot coffee, followed by a little of the warm soup, brought the color back to her face, and she was able to sit up. She stared at her strange surroundings and looked at the boys and the naturalist. “Me Maximina,” she said, speaking slowly. “You Ned, Jerry and Mr. Snowgrass?” “Snodgrass, Snodgrass, my dear young lady,” replied the professor, bowing low. “Professor Uriah Snodgrass, A. M., Ph.D., M. D., F. R. G. S., A. Q. K., all of which is at your service.” “Bob need you,” said the girl, simply. “He try to come, but he git ketch.” “Yes, yes! Tell us about him. Where can we find him?” asked Jerry, eagerly. “Me no spik Inglis good,” the girl replied. “You spik Spanish, señor?” “Si,” answered the professor. Thereupon Maximina let forth a torrent of words that nearly overwhelmed the naturalist. Yet he managed to understand what she said. Maximina told how she had been at the Mexicans’ camp when Bob was brought there, she having been a captive for many years. She determined to help him escape, and did so when the opportunity offered. She told how she knew, in a general way, where the buried city was, as Bob had told her something about it, and she had overheard Vasco and his men talking about the locality where they had fallen down the tunnel. “But Bob’s horse fell and threw him off,” she explained, in her native tongue. “I wanted to stay with him, but he told me to go on. Then Vasco came and got him, but I rode away, for I wanted to find you. I had hard work, and I lost my way several times. Three days ago my pony died and I walked the rest of the distance.” “Poor girl! You must be almost tired to death,” said the professor. “I was tired, but it is happiness to find you, señors, for I know you will go and help Señor Bob.” “Of course we will, right away,” said the naturalist. “She seems to have taken a sudden liking to our friend Bob,” commented Ned. “She’s a mighty pretty girl, too; don’t you think so, Jerry?” “Be careful,” laughed Jerry. “Don’t go to having any love affairs with beautiful Mexican maidens. I have read that they are a very jealous and quick-tempered nation. Besides, you are too young.” “I’m a year older than Bob,” maintained Ned. “Now, boys, what had we better do?” asked the professor. “Maximina can guide us to the place where Bob is held captive. Shall we go and give battle to these brigands?” “Sure!” exclaimed Ned. “We have plenty of ammunition.” “And they are about ten to our one,” put in Jerry. “But we’ve got to do something,” he added, seriously. “Then we’ll start as soon as we can get in shape,” decided the professor. “I have a better plan than making a direct attack on the camp of the Mexicans, however. We will go to the authorities and ask their aid. Maximina says there is a detachment of soldiers stationed about thirty miles from here and on the line we must take to go to the camp, from which they are distant about ten miles.” “Bully!” cried Ned. “With a few soldiers to help us we’ll give those brigands and Noddy Nixon such a licking that they’ll never want another.” The automobile was soon made ready. In it was packed all that remained of the provisions. The professor did up his precious specimens and curios, not forgetting the lead casket of jewels. The water tank was filled. Fortunately, there was still plenty of gasolene left. Jerry and Ned pumped up the tires, Maximina was invited to a seat in the rear, with the professor, and the travelers, taking a last look at the underground city, started off. They went through the tunnel, up the incline, the fall of which had precipitated them into the shaft, and soon were on the level road, speeding to the rescue of Bob. maintenance equipment animal car part gasoline passenger city road condition speed After Vasco had secured his captive, following Bob’s and Maximina’s flight, the brigand took measures to insure that the prisoner would not get away again. Bob was placed in a regular dungeon, and outside the door was stationed a man with a gun. The poor lad was in low spirits. He began to give up hope, and the only thing that cheered him was the thought that perhaps Maximina might have gotten away and would notify his friends or the authorities. But Bob knew it was a remote chance, for he did not believe the frail girl could stand the long journey alone. He tried to learn something about her; whether she had been recaptured or not; but to all questions his guard, and the old woman who brought him food, returned but one answer, and that was: “No spik Inglis, señor.” Bob saw it was of no use to try to get out of the dungeon. It was built partially underground, the walls were of stone and the door a massive wooden one, while the single window was heavily barred. It was hot in the small cell, and Bob suffered very much. But he tried to keep up a brave heart. One day he heard voices outside of the dungeon window. He listened intently and found that Noddy and Vasco were talking. Vasco, of necessity, had to speak English in talking with Noddy, who understood only a little Spanish. “Have you got the money yet?” asked Noddy. “No; and I think we never will get it,” replied Vasco, angrily. “I don’t believe the boy is the son of a rich banker at all. It’s another one of your wild dreams, just like the gold mine the crazy professor was going to locate.” “Bob’s father is rich,” maintained Noddy. “It ain’t my fault that he won’t send the cash.” “Well, it’s your fault for getting me into this muss,” went on Vasco, “and it’ll be your fault if we don’t get some money pretty soon. The men are mad and I won’t be able to manage ’em in a few days. They blame it all on you, so you’d better look out!” “Do you suppose they—they will ki-kill me?” faltered Noddy. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Vasco, coldly. At that instant Bob heard some one come galloping up on a horse. It seemed to be a messenger, for he heard the steed come to a stop, while a man jumped down and began talking rapidly in Spanish. “What is it? Has Bob’s father sent the money?” asked Noddy. “Money? No!” snapped the leader of the brigands. “But the soldiers are after us! We must get out of here!” Bob’s heart thrilled with hope. Perhaps, after all, Maximina had been able to send help. He almost laughed in his happiness, thinking he would soon be free. But his hopes were dashed to the ground when, a few minutes later, his guard came into his cell, quickly bound his hands and feet, wrapped a long cloak about him, and, with the aid of another Mexican, carried him out of the cell. Bob realized, from the change of air, that he was being carried into the open. He could see nothing because of the cloak about his head, but he could hear much bustle and confusion. Men were running here and there, while Vasco was giving quick orders. Then the sound of the automobile being started was heard. Bob felt himself lifted into the car and, a few seconds later, he felt the vibration that told he was being carried away again, this time in Noddy’s machine. sound passenger haptic visibility vision As the messenger had told Vasco, the soldiers were on their way to the camp of the kidnappers. The boys and the professor had reached the garrison, and, telling their story, had induced the commander to send a detachment to capture the Mexicans. But the troops traveled slowly, and one of Vasco’s friends, who happened to be hanging about the fort, hearing of the contemplated raid, mounted a swift horse and rode off to give the alarm. So when, a few hours after Vasco had fled with his men and his captive, the troops galloped up, led by Jerry, Ned, Maximina and the professor in the automobile, they found the camp deserted. “The birds have flown!” exclaimed the captain of the troopers. “We may as well go back!” “No!” cried Jerry. “We must take after them. Bob must be rescued!” “But how can we tell where they went?” asked the captain. “That woman can tell you!” exclaimed Maximina, pointing to an aged crone who was trying to escape observation in one of the huts. law animal passenger driver Chapter XXIX. - The Fight (220-228) law risk speed CHAPTER XXIX. THE FIGHT. “Bring her here!” commanded the captain. Several of his soldiers ran toward the old woman who set up a loud screaming. “Who is she?” asked the leader of the troops of Maximina. “An old servant of Vasco’s,” replied the girl. “She knows all his secrets and can tell where he has gone. He has several hiding places about here.” Protesting and crying that she knew nothing and could tell nothing, the aged servant was brought to the captain. “Where is Vasco Bilette?” he asked. “I know not! I have not seen him these three days!” she exclaimed. “So,” commented the captain, smiling. “We will see if we cannot refresh your memory. Pedro, fetch my rawhide whip!” At this the woman howled most dismally, and threw herself on the ground, clinging to the legs of the men who held her. “I cannot allow this,” interposed Professor Snodgrass, to whom the conversation, carried on in Spanish, was intelligible. “Even at the cost of seeing Vasco Bilette escape I will not stand by and see a woman whipped.” “But, señor, you do not understand the case,” said the captain. “That is the only way I can get the truth out of her. I must give her a few blows to loosen her tongue. That is the only persuasion these cattle understand; blows and money.” “Why not try the latter?” suggested the naturalist. “Who has money to throw away on such as she?” asked the commander, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I will pay her,” went on the professor. “See,” he went on, taking out some bank-notes. “Tell us where Vasco went and you shall have fifty dollars.” The old woman glanced at the money, looked around on the soldiers and glared at the captain, who was switching a cruel whip. Then she said, sullenly: “I will tell you, señor, but not for money. It is because you had a kind thought for old Julia. Listen, Vasco has gone to the cave by the small mountain.” “I know where that is!” exclaimed the captain. “Many a time have we had fights there with the brigands. It is about ten miles off.” “Then let us hurry there!” cried Jerry. The professor handed the old woman the bills. She took them, hiding them quickly in her dress. “The whip would have been cheaper,” said the captain, with a regretful sigh. “It is money thrown away.” “I have more to throw after it, if you and your men rescue the kidnapped boy!” exclaimed the naturalist, for he understood something of the Mexican character. “Good!” cried the captain. “Come, men, hurry! We will wipe the brigands from the face of the earth!” Indeed, new enthusiasm seemed to be infused into the soldiers at the mention of money. Those who had dismounted, sprang quickly to the saddles, the bugler blew a lively air, and the troops started off at a smart trot. Old Julia was left behind in the camp of the kidnappers. The boys and the professor, with Maximina, in the automobile, followed the troopers. law pleasure animal sound speed driver passenger “I think there will be one big fight,” said the girl, in English, speaking to the boys. “Vasco has many guns in the cave.” “I hope it will be his last fight,” said Ned. “I don’t wish any one bad luck, but I would like to see Vasco Bilette and his gang put where they can do no more harm.” “The soldiers don’t seem to take this very seriously,” remarked Jerry. “Hear them singing and laughing.” “They probably want Vasco to know they are coming, so they will not take him by surprise,” spoke the professor. “It’s a trait of Mexican politeness, I suppose.” The captain of the troop came riding back to the automobile, which had kept in the rear of the horsemen. risk law nationality animal “My compliments, señor,” said the commander, bowing with a sweep of his helmet to the professor. “My best regards to you,” replied the naturalist. “We will be up to the vicinity of the cave in about an hour,” went on the captain. “Is it your desire to charge in the fire-wagon with my troopers, or do you prefer to stay in the rear and watch us dispose of this brigand?” “We’re not the ones to stay in the rear when there’s fighting to be done,” said the professor. “You will find us in the fore, Señor Captain.” “Very good; but what about the girl?” “I will stay with my friends,” replied Maximina. “I am not afraid of Vasco Bilette.” “You may stay with us,” consented the naturalist, “but I must insist on you getting down on the bottom of the car when the fighting begins.” “Fighting? There will be no fighting,” said the captain. “Aren’t you going to tackle the brigands and get Bob?” asked Jerry, in some surprise. “Caramba! The dogs will run when they see my troops,” spoke the captain, puffing out his chest. “They will not stand. That is why I said there would be no fighting.” “I wouldn’t be too sure,” remarked the professor. “You shall see, señor,” went on the commander. “But now I must go back to my men. My compliments, señor.” “Mine to you,” responded the professor, not to be outdone in politeness. The cavalcade moved forward for several miles. It was getting hot and horses and men began to suffer. It was a relief when a small stream was reached, where every one could get a refreshing drink. After a short rest the command to move forward was given. “What is that?” cried Jerry, suddenly, pointing ahead to where, on a broad, level stretch of country, several small, dark, moving objects could be seen. “I will tell you directly,” said the professor, taking a pair of field-glasses from their case. He leveled the binoculars and gazed steadily through them. “It is Vasco and his party!” he cried. “I can see Noddy in his auto, and there are a number of horsemen. They have not yet reached the cave. Quick, Jerry, run the machine ahead and tell the captain!” temperature animal law vision equipment car model speed Jerry increased the speed of the auto. It ran up beside the trooper captain, who turned about to see what was up. “There are the brigands!” exclaimed the professor, pointing ahead. “Hurry up and you can catch them before they get to the cave, where they may barricade themselves.” “My compliments, señor; I thank you for the information,” replied the captain, bowing low. “Will you not smoke a cigarette with me?” “I don’t smoke!” snapped the professor. “Besides, we have no time for that now. We must fight!” “Exactly, just so,” answered the easy-going Mexican. “Come, men!” he exclaimed. “The enemy is in front of you! At them, and show what stuff you are made of! Bugler, sound the charge!” speed risk pleasure law Instantly the troops were full of excitement. Men began unslinging their carbines. They got out their ammunition and seemed eager for the fray. The bugler blew a merry blast. “Forward, my brave men! Cut down the brigands! Kill the kidnappers of boys!” shouted the captain, waving his sword. With a shout, the Mexican soldiers dashed forward to the fight. They might be slow, and given to too much delay and politeness, but when the time came they were full of action. They yelled as they dug spurs into their horses, and the more excited threw their hats into the air. Several discharged their carbines when there was no chance of hitting any of the enemy. They were wild at the thought of battle. By this time the brigands became aware of the pursuit. Vasco Bilette had, with a powerful field-glass, detected the advance of the horsemen some time back. But an accident to the auto had detained them, and they were three miles from the cave when he saw the soldiers dashing toward him. He and his men strained every nerve, but they soon saw they could not get to their stronghold ahead of their enemies. equipment animal accident law speed risk “We’ll have to fight ’em,” said Vasco. “I guess we can give ’em as good as they send. Noddy and Dalsett, you keep an eye on Bob, and if you get a chance, skip off with him. Go back to camp; they won’t think of looking for you there.” Ten minutes later the soldiers were within shooting distance. They opened fire on the Mexicans, who, not daunted by the numbers against them, returned the volleys. At first so great was the excitement that no damage was done. But after a few rounds two of the troopers were injured, and one of the Mexicans had to withdraw, seriously wounded. “We must never surrender!” cried Vasco. “Exterminate the brigands!” shouted the soldiers. They came to closer quarters. The soldiers began to use their carbines for clubs, not taking the time to reload. Then they drew their sabres and charged the Mexicans under Vasco, who had drawn his force up in a hollow square. Several on both sides were killed in this mêlée. The boys and the professor, who, under the captain’s later orders, had kept to the rear, now came dashing up in the automobile. Maximina was lying down on the floor of the tonneau, out of harm’s way. Jerry was keeping an eye on Noddy and his auto, and he noticed that the machine, which, as he could see plainly now, held Bob, kept well behind the brigands. speed risk car part vision “We must get Bob, no matter what happens,” said Jerry to Ned. “Look sharp now. I’m going to try something.” “What is it?” asked Ned. “Just you watch!” exclaimed Jerry. “Look out!” He ducked, to avoid a bullet that sang over his head. “What’s the use of doing that?” asked Ned. “The bullet is past when you hear it sing.” “Can’t help it,” replied Jerry. The fighting was now at its height. Though the force on both sides was small, the guns kept up a continuous fusillade, and it sounded as though a good-sized detachment was going into action. “No quarter! Not a man must escape!” cried the captain. “Charge!” yelled Vasco Bilette, trying to urge his men to make a rush and overwhelm the soldiers. “Charge and the day is won!” With a shout, his men prepared to obey his command. “Now is your chance!” whispered the brigand leader to Noddy. “Away with Bob!” Noddy headed the machine, containing the bound captive, off to one side. “There he goes!” Jerry shouted, catching sight of the movement. “We must take after him, Ned. Noddy has Bob with him.” weapon risk sound speed Chapter XXX. - Homeward Bound law risk speed navigation weapon CHAPTER XXX. HOMEWARD BOUND. Steering to one side, to avoid running into the mass of men, soldiers and kidnappers that seemed to be mixed up in inextricable confusion, Jerry sent his machine after Noddy’s, which was speeding away. “Shall I try a shot at the tires?” asked Ned, fingering his revolver. “No; you might hit Bob,” replied Jerry. “I’ll catch him.” The battle was now divided. On one side the soldiers and the Mexicans were fighting. On the other was the race between the two autos; a contest of machinery. risk speed weapon nationality class At first it seemed that Noddy would escape. But Jerry, throwing in the high-speed clutch, cut down the distance between his car and Noddy’s. A few minutes after the chase started it became evident that Jerry would win. Vasco, seeing how matters were likely to go, had jumped into the car as Noddy started off. All this while poor Bob was bound, and the cloak was still about his head, so he could not tell what was going on. But he guessed it was some attempt to rescue him. speed risk car part skill vision Nearer and nearer came Jerry’s auto. The front wheels overlapped the rear ones of Noddy’s machine. “Stop, or I’ll fire!” cried the professor, suddenly, leveling a revolver at Noddy’s crowd. They paid no heed to him. With a quick motion, Vasco leaned over the edge of the seat and fired three times in rapid succession at the tires of Jerry’s machine. He missed his aim, but Jerry saw the danger that threatened him. He increased his speed. In another minute he had come up alongside of Noddy’s auto. speed weapon risk car part “Get ready to grab Bob!” Jerry yelled to Ned and the professor. “Then hold on tight!” “I’ll pay you for this!” exclaimed Vasco, fiercely. He leaned over the edge of the car and made a vicious lunge at Jerry with a long knife. Jerry swerved his machine the least bit and avoided the blow. The next instant the autos came together with a crash. The shock threw Vasco out, for he was already leaning more than half way over the side door, in an endeavor to strike at Jerry. The wheels of the heavy machine passed over his legs, making him a cripple for life. risk weapon skill speed accident health Seeing how matters were likely to turn out, Noddy shut off the power and brought his machine to a stop. Ned and the professor took advantage of this to reach over and grab Bob. “Now we haf rescue him!” exclaimed Maximina. “I knew we would haf found Bob!” and she laughed and cried by turns. It did not take long to loosen the captive’s bonds. The suffocating shawl was taken from his head. Poor Bob was faint and white. “We’ll soon fix him up!” cried the professor, cheerily. “Run to one side, Jerry.” Leaving the discomfited Noddy and his chum, Jack Pender, Jerry steered off under a clump of trees, where, by the administrations of the professor, Bob was soon himself again. car part parking pleasure health navigation Meanwhile, the battle between the brigands and the troops was waging furiously. Several had fallen on both sides, but the better-trained soldiers knew more about warfare, and slowly but surely they pressed their enemies back. Then, when Vasco fell and was crushed by the auto, the men lost heart. They faltered, wavered and then turned and fled. Dalsett endeavored to rally them. He caught hold of some of the brigands and urged them to stand against the charge of the soldiers. One of the kidnappers resented Dalsett’s interference. With a wild cry he plunged a knife into the former miner, and Dalsett fell, seriously wounded. “They fly! They fly! Take after them!” cried the captain of the troopers. “At them, my brave men! Hew them down! Wipe them off the face of the earth!” It was noticeable that as the tide turned in favor of the soldiers their leader became more bold. He rode hither and thither, waving his sword, but taking care not to get too far to the front. At length, with a last volley, the brigands fled. The troopers took after them, killing several and wounding some. They chased them until the kidnappers came to the foothills, and, as this was a wild country, the troopers did not care to follow. So some of the brigands escaped. But the band was broken up and for many years thereafter no trouble was experienced with them. Noddy had not started up his machine after Vasco had been knocked from it. The former bully seemed to be in a sort of daze, and he and Pender sat staring at the exciting scenes going on all about them. When Bob had been made comfortable on a bed of blankets spread under the trees, Jerry thought of their former enemy. health driver passenger “What had we better do about Noddy?” he asked of the professor. “There he sits in his machine. Shall we turn him over to the soldiers?” “I don’t know but what it would be a good idea,” said the naturalist. “Just have an eye to him for a few minutes, anyhow. The captain will be here in a little while, and he’ll decide what to do. I suppose the law must take its course.” Seeing that Bob was doing very well under the care of Maximina and the professor, Ned and Jerry ran their machine over to where Noddy was. “Don’t give me up!” pleaded Nixon. “I didn’t mean to do any harm. It was all Dalsett and Vasco. See, here is your money-belt, Jerry. I never touched a cent of it.” “So it was you who took it, eh?” spoke Ned. “No—no—I didn’t steal it. Dalsett made me take it that night,” faltered Noddy. “But I never took any money out of it. I used my own. Please let me go!” “You are a prisoner of the captain, not one of ours,” replied Jerry. “He’ll have to settle your case.” navigation law equipment At that instant the captain, who, with his men, had ridden to where Vasco was stretched out on the ground, called to Jerry and Ned. They turned the machine toward him. The professor, too, came running over. The captain spoke some command to one of his men, who began a search of the clothing of the kidnapper leader. “Ha! There is something!” exclaimed the captain, as his man hauled two money-belts out of Vasco’s pocket. “I wonder whom they belong to?” “One’s mine!” cried Ned. “And the other is Bob’s,” said Jerry. “I wonder if there is any money left in them?” “Look,” said the captain, passing them over. The boys and the professor, who had translated the captain’s remarks as he had made them, looked over the articles. They found that about half the sum in each belt had been spent. “Well, half a loaf is better than no bread,” remarked Jerry. “We ought to be thankful we’re alive, to say nothing of getting part of our cash back.” “You all seem to have plenty of money; you are not like the poor Mexicans,” said the captain, with a sigh, looking at the professor, meaningly. “That reminds me: I promised to reward you and your men if we were successful,” spoke the naturalist. He distributed a good-sized sum among the soldiers, who seemed very pleased to get it. Their salaries under the government were small, and not always paid regularly, so that any addition was welcome. “What’s that?” asked the captain, suddenly, as he shoved his share of the distribution in his pocket. “It’s Noddy and Pender in their auto,” said Jerry. “They are going to escape.” “Shall we fire at them?” asked the captain, eagerly. “What’s the use?” asked Jerry. “Let them go. We would only have more bother if we tried to get them punished by law for their crimes. We have Bob back, we discovered the underground city, and what more do we want?” “Nothing, excepting to get back home,” put in Ned. “I’ll be glad to see Cresville again.” So no attempt was made to capture Noddy and his chum, and they sped off across-country in their machine, running at top speed, as if they feared pursuit. Bill Berry, slightly wounded, went with them. class law driver passenger risk pleasure speed health “Is there anything more we can do for you?” asked the captain. “If there is not we will start back to the garrison, as it is growing late.” The professor said he thought they could dispense with the services of the troops. So, amid a chorus of good-byes, the horsemen rode away. “Well, here we are, all together once more,” observed the professor. “And with an addition to our party,” put in Ned, pointing to Maximina. “That’s so; we must get her back home next,” the professor said. “First, give me something to eat and drink,” begged Bob. “I’m almost starved.” It was so near night that the travelers decided to make a camp. Supper was soon ready, and after it had been disposed of, the boys made a small tent out of blankets for Maximina. The next morning they started northward. Maximina had told them she had relatives in the City of Mexico, and they headed for that place. They reached it, without having any accidents, a week later, and left the girl who had befriended Bob with her friends. “I wonder if we’ll have any more adventures?” said Ned, as, after a few days’ rest, they started from the City of Mexico toward home. North navigation city safety “Hard to say, but probably you boys will,” said the professor. “Boys are always having adventures. As for me, I am satisfied with those we had on this trip. We had the most excellent success. My name will be famous when the story of the underground city is told in four large volumes which I intend to issue.” “I would think it might,” commented Ned. “Four books are enough to make any one famous.” “Well, it will take some long letters to tell our folks of all that has happened to us,” put in Bob. Telegrams had already been sent, so that nobody at home might worry further. “I’ll be glad enough to get back to the States,” said Jerry. “Mexico is not the best place in the world.” “I suppose we’ll have more adventures before long,” was Ned’s comment, and he was right. What those adventures were will be told in the next volume of this series, to be called “The Motor Boys Across the Plains; or, The Hermit of Lost Lake.” Here we shall meet all of our young friends again, and also some of their enemies, and learn much concerning a most peculiar mystery. The weather remained fine, and as the auto had been thoroughly repaired in the City of Mexico before leaving, rapid progress was made in the journey northward. They kept, as far as possible, to the best and most frequented roads, having no desire to meet any more brigands. “Tell you what,” said Bob, one day, “automobiling is great, isn’t it?” “Immense!” answered Ned. “It’s the best sport going,” added Jerry. “I love this touring car of ours as I would love a brother.” And then he put on a burst of speed that soon took them around a bend of the road and out of sight—and also out of my story. THE END. maintenance city North navigation road condition pleasure speed +