The Motor Boys on Road and River; Or Racing To Save a Life Read online

  CHAPTER I

  JERRY IS ABSENT-MINDED

  “Pretty good game; wasn’t it?”

  “It sure was--a corker!”

  “I thought our Cresville boys wouldn’t be able to pull up, after theRed Sox got that big lead on ’em, but they certainly played their headsoff.”

  “They sure did. The pitcher won the game for them with that last wallopof his!”

  “That’s right,” remarked a stout lad, one of a group of three who werewalking slowly across the green diamond at the conclusion of a ballmatch.

  “The umpire made some pretty rank decisions,” added the boy who hadmade the first comment, glancing across in front of his companion, who,in the middle of the trio, separated the two speakers.

  “You’re right,” commented the stout youth.

  The two exchanged looks--queer glances, and, as if by mutual consent,gazed up at the face of their chum who walked between them. Then thestout lad winked.

  “What’s the matter, Jerry?” he asked. “Didn’t you like the game?”

  “Game? What game? Oh, yes--sure I liked it!” was the hurried response,as though the speaker’s thoughts had been far afield when the import ofthe question was grasped. “It was a good little game,” went on the ladin the centre of the trio. “Too bad our boys didn’t win, though!”

  “Too bad!” echoed the stout lad. “Why, what----”

  “Didn’t win!” interrupted the other. “Say, Jerry, what’s got into you?The Cresville team did win!”

  “Oh, did they? That’s funny! I guess I didn’t pay much attention towardthe last.”

  “No, and not toward the beginning, either, I guess,” grumbled the stoutlad. “I wonder what’s gotten into him,” he thought.

  “So they won; did they, Bob?” asked the lad addressed as Jerry. “Well,I’m glad of it.”

  “Of course they won, Jerry Hopkins,” was the quick answer. “And thispractically clinches the local championship for them, too. It was acorking good game; wasn’t it, Ned?”

  “Now you’re talking! A good crowd, too,” and Ned Slade looked at thethrong pouring down from grandstand and bleachers.

  “What shall we do?” asked Bob Baker, the stout lad before referred to.“I vote not to go home just yet. It’s early. Let’s take a little spindown the road.”

  “All right,” agreed Ned. “Shall we, Jerry?”

  “Eh? Oh, yes, I’m in for whatever you fellows say. It’ll be nice on theriver to-day.”

  “River! Who said anything about the river?” demanded Ned. “Do you thinkwe came to this ball game in our motor boat, Jerry Hopkins? Say, what’sthe matter with you to-day, anyhow? We’re talking about taking a spinin the auto. Will you come along?”

  “Oh, sure I’ll go. You know that!” exclaimed Jerry, and with an efforthe seemed to recall his thoughts from whatever distant realms theyroamed. “Sure we’ll go for a spin. I guess I was thinking about theball game.”

  Ned and Bob each gave their chum a queer look, but they said nothing.Only Ned thought to himself:

  “Thinking about the ball game; eh? That won’t go with me, when, alittle while ago, he didn’t even know which side had won. There’ssomething wrong with Jerry. I wonder what it is?”

  But, whatever it was, it did not seem to be anything very serious, forsoon Jerry smiled at his chums, and clapping Bob on the shoulder witha force that made the stout youth grunt, exclaimed:

  “Sure we’ll go for a spin! It will give us an appetite for supper, andI seem to need one. I’ve been a little off my feed the last few days.”

  At this Bob looked worried. Eating was something in which he took agreat deal of interest. Perhaps it was that which made him so stout,and had gained for him the nickname of “Chunky,” which his chumsoccasionally called him.

  The three boys--the “motor boys” they were locally called--because theyso often rode about in motor vehicles--automobiles, motor boats, ormotor-driven airships--had come to the ball game in their auto whichstood parked, with a number of others, back of the grandstand. Thitherthey now made their way.

  The air was filled with the noisy chug-chug of scores of machines asthey backed, turned and darted ahead to get from the ball field to theroad. In and out of the receding throng the autoists guided their cars.On all sides were talk and laughter--talk of the game just finished,congratulatory calls to the winners, and expressions of regret for thelosers.

  “Yes, it sure was some nifty little game,” remarked Bob, as the chumsreached their machine. “Are you going to drive, Jerry?” he asked.

  “I will if you want me to--sure.”

  “I hope he pays more attention to the wheel than he did to the ballgame,” remarked Ned, with a slow shake of his head. “If he doesn’t he’slikely to have us up a tree, or in the ditch.”

  But he made no objection as Jerry took his place at the wheel, andslipped in the switch key of the electric starter. Ned and Bob gotin the tonneau, and Jerry, looking back to see that both doors wereclosed, was about to start off when a voice behind the machine cried:

  “Hold on! Wait a minute! I won’t be a second! Give me a lift; will you?I forgot all about it! Terrible important message! Dad’ll be wild if Idon’t deliver it! Great game; wasn’t it? Our boys won fine! Here I am!Let her go! Never say die! Whizz her along, Jerry! I’m here! Let herout, do you hear? Move the boat!”

  A small youth, very much excited as to manner and words sprang, leaped,scrambled, climbed, hopped, jumped, vaulted and fell into the vacantseat beside Jerry. He sat there, his breath coming in gasps, both fromhis run and from his outpouring of words.

  Jerry, with a quizzical smile, looked down at him; Bob, withhalf-opened mouth, leaned forward to gaze; and Ned shook his head in ahopeless fashion, murmuring:

  “Is it all over, Andy Rush?”

  “Is--is what--all over?” demanded the small chap.

  “Everything,” answered Ned, throwing his hands in the air. “Yourtalk--your--your--well, you know what I mean. Is it all over?”

  “Of course it is,” was the quick answer. “You can go ahead now, Jerry,”he added, as though they had been waiting for him.

  “Well, I like your nerve!” gasped Bob, who at length found his voice.

  “That’s all right. I saw you had a vacant place!” exclaimed Andy,starting off in another “spasm.” Then he proceeded:

  “I’ve got to get back to town in a hurry. Important message--dad toldme not to forget, but I did--went to the ball game. Say, it was great;wasn’t it? That fly of Watson’s--up in the air--thought it would nevercome down--run around the bases--nobody out--whoop her up! Everybodyrun! Nobody out--all over!”

  He had reared up in his seat to “explode” this, and now sank back again.

  Jerry looked at the diminutive orator.

  “Are you all through, Andy?” asked the tall lad, gently. “If you are,we’ll start, with your kind permission and attention. Only we’re notgoing back to town right away, so if you have an important message todeliver you’d better walk, or take a hop, skip and a jump into someoneelse’s car. We’re going to take a little ride, and we don’t know whenwe’ll get back.”

  “Oh, well, I guess it isn’t so important after all,” spoke Andy,slowly. “I’ll go with you. I’ll leave the message when I come back. Youare coming back; aren’t you?” he asked.

  “No telling,” answered Ned, winking at Jerry. “We may take a notion torun over to San Francisco and spend the night.”

  “Huh! I don’t care,” laughed Andy. “I’ll go along. I can telephone themessage back, I guess. Let me go; will you?”

  “Oh, well, there’s no getting ahead of you, Andy,” conceded Jerry.“Stay in, if you like. Only don’t blame us if your dad wants to knowwhy his message wasn’t delivered.”

  “That’s right,” chimed in Ned. “Let her go, Jerry. It’s hot sittinghere in the sun.”

  There was a whine and a whirr, as the electric starter spun theflywheel of the big automobile. Then came a snap, as the gears meshe
d,and as the clutch slipped into place the machine slowly backed to aclear place. Then, as Jerry threw in the first forward speed, it shotahead, and, a little later was spinning down a pleasant, shaded countryroad.

  “This is something like,” observed Bob, leaning back in comfort. “Wantto go anywhere special, Jerry?”

  “No, I’ll go anywhere you fellows say.”

  “Let’s have a race!” burst out Andy Rush. “There goes a car! You caneasy pass that, Jerry! Speed her up! Let’s race ’em! Look, they’relaughing at us! Go ahead! Whoop!”

  The tall steersman made no effort to increase the speed of the car.Instead he smiled down at the excited lad beside him, and remarked:

  “It’s too hot to do all that talking, Andy. Save it for the winterseason when you’ll need it. We’ll have no race to-day.”

  If the small chap was disappointed he did not show it. For somethingnew claimed his attention. A big gray squirrel scurried across thestreet in front of the car.

  “Look at that!” cried Andy. “Say, he can go some! If I only had a gunnow! Squirrel pie for mine!”

  “Squirrels are out of season now,” remarked Bob. “You’d be fined if youshot ’em.”

  “That’s right,” chimed in Ned.

  “Let’s go on to Blairtown, and have a bite to eat,” suggested Bob,after a pause. “There’s a good restaurant there.”

  “Humph! Seeing that squirrel must have made you hungry,” commented Nedwith a laugh. “But go ahead, if you like, Jerry. I don’t mind.”

  Jerry, at the wheel, nodded, and for some time guided the car insilence. Now and then Andy made some excited remark at the sight ofsomething along the highway. Bob and Andy exchanged occasional opinions.

  “How’s she running, Jerry?” asked Bob, after a bit.

  “Yes, our fellows did some good running,” was the unexpected answer.

  “Oh, wake up!” cried Ned, with a laugh. “We weren’t talking about theball game.”

  “No?” queried Jerry. “I thought Bob said something about runs.”

  “I was asking how the car ran,” put in the stout lad.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Jerry, comprehendingly. “Why, she’s going like a sewingmachine--just as easy. She sure is some car!”

  “Yes, I’m glad we traded in our old one, and got this,” commented Ned.“That self-starter alone is worth the difference. No more breaking ourbacks cranking up.”

  Jerry did not reply to this. After his remark to Bob he had relapsedinto silence again--a silence to which Ned called his chum’s attentionby a nudge.

  “Something sure has gotten into Jerry,” whispered the stout youth.

  “That’s right, Chunky,” agreed his companion.

  They rode on for some distance farther, Jerry guiding the carskillfully enough, even though his mind did not seem to be on his task.

  As he turned up a cross road, that would take them to Blairtown Ned,glancing up suddenly, cried out:

  “Look out, Jerry! Where are you steering? You’re heading right for thatother car!”

  A big machine, coming from the opposite direction, and at high speed,was headed directly for the auto of the motor boys. But it was on theproper side of the highway, whereas Jerry was on the left.

  “Look out!” Bob cried, springing to his feet. “We’re going to have asmash, sure!” He leaned forward to open the side door, as though hewould leap out.