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Bert Wilson at the Wheel

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<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> <h3>Quick Work</h3> “You fellows get it all,” complained Steve Thomas, with as ugly a look as such a round good-natured face as his could wear. “You sure do seem to move in a charmed circle,” chimed in another grumbler. “Don’t they?” echoed a third. “They ought to be called the lucky three. This is the fourth time in less than two weeks that they’ve had the auto.” The “lucky three,” to whom these remarks were addressed, stood grinning happily at the disgusted faces of the other fellows in camp. The question to be settled was as to what ones should take the auto into town for some supplies that were unexpectedly but urgently needed. There had been quite a lively dispute, waxing louder and louder until it threatened to end in a genuine quarrel. Mr. Hollis, busily finishing some letters that he wanted to send into town by the boys, was at first too absorbed in his writing to notice the unusual disturbance, but as the recriminations grew[112] hotter he saw that immediate action was necessary. Rising hastily and taking in his hand a sheet of paper on which he had been writing, he stepped from his tent into the group of heated boys. The clamor ceased at once and when he learned the cause of the discussion, Mr. Hollis proposed to draw lots. The fellows who should draw the numbers one, two and three were to be the autoists for the trip. This seemed fair to all, and cutting the paper into equal strips Mr. Hollis wrote a number on each and, shaking them well in a hat passed them around. When they had all been drawn, each one turned over his slip and looked eagerly for the sign that fate had been good to him. The lot had fallen to Bert, Tom, and Ben. There was no appeal and the rest of the camp had to submit, some, however, with so poor a grace that Mr. Hollis, smilingly genially remarked: “Come, boys, be sports. Any fellow can growl but it takes an all-around manly one to bear defeat smilingly. There’s always the chance of better luck next time.” His words and manner speedily dissipated what shreds of ill-temper remained, so that the boys gave a rousing cheer for a send-off as the car, gleaming like red gold in the brilliant morning[113] sunshine, shot off up the road and disappeared from their longing eyes. As for the fortunate three in the car, everything unpleasant was forgotten in the twinkling of an eye. A great splendid flying auto is no place for disagreeable memories, and the woods rang with song and jokes and laughter as the car flew on. Out of the woods at last they swept into a wide well-kept turnpike, where they could safely ride at greater speed. Bert opened up the throttle and the “Red Scout” fairly “burned up the ground.” They passed a number of lumbering ox carts and farm wagons drawn by sedate old horses, whom nothing could dismay. Now just in front of them they saw a runabout, drawn by two spirited bay horses evidently of the thoroughbred type. As they came up behind the carriage, Tom noticed that one of the horses began to prance and that the lady who held the reins glanced behind nervously. “Wouldn’t you better go rather slow,” he cautioned Bert; “one of those horses doesn’t seem to have any love for automobiles.” Accordingly, Bert was very careful as he attempted to pass the runabout; but at the first glimpse of the car the prancing horse reared up on his hind legs and lurched heavily against his[114] mate. Startled, the other horse plunged forward, jerking the reins from the driver’s hands. The feel of the loose reins on their backs completed their panic, and before anyone realized what was happening, the horses had taken the bit between their teeth and were dashing down the road, utterly beyond control. The carriage swayed frightfully from side to side, and the two ladies, their faces blanched with fear, clung desperately to the seats. The “lucky three,” feeling not a bit lucky at that moment, were filled with dismay. “I suppose that’s our fault,” groaned Tom, “although I don’t for the life of me see how we could have helped it.” “That’s not the question,” said Bert, anxiously, “the only thing now is how to help them.” “It seems to me,” said Tom, “that the thing to do is to overtake them, range up alongside and then one of us jump into the carriage and get hold of the reins.” This seemed the only feasible thing and the speeding auto soon came within a few feet of the runaways. Bert waited till the road widened and then shot the auto over the intervening space and drew alongside. Tom grasped the wheel and Bert, watching his chance, sprang into the carriage. The double motion hurled him backward[115] and almost out on the road, but with a desperate effort, he succeeded in grasping the back of the seat and held on. Then climbing over, he made his perilous way out upon the shaft between the flying horses and snatched the reins. Upon these he pulled and sawed with all his strength until he at last brought the frightened beasts under control. Tom and Ben, seeing their opportunity, stopped the machine, and, running to the horses’ heads, brought them to a standstill. They helped the trembling women to alight and with cushions and robes hastily brought from the auto made them a comfortable seat at the foot of a tree by the roadside. Ben, bethinking himself of the drinking cup that was part of the auto’s equipment, filled it with water from a nearby spring, and under these attentions the ladies somewhat recovered from their terrifying experience. The elder of the two turned to the boys and tried to express her heartfelt gratitude, while, if the younger was to be believed, they had proved themselves veritable heroes. This they modestly disclaimed and declared they were only too delighted to have been able to stop the team before any serious harm had been done. Meanwhile the horses stood panting and trembling at the side of the road. Evidently it would not be safe to attempt to drive them again[116] at present, and they were greatly relieved when a young farmer, who had seen the runaway, came up and offered to keep them overnight in his barn. The horses thus disposed of, the “lucky three” offered gallantly to drive the ladies home in their car. So, fastening the runabout to the rear of the auto and seating their guests comfortably in the tonneau, the boys crowded into the driver’s seat and were soon gliding up a broad avenue of elms that ended at the spacious and elegant home to which they had been directed. Declining a pressing invitation to enter, the boys, followed by their repeated thanks, started off with redoubled speed on their original errand. Without further adventure they secured their supplies and turned toward home. What was their surprise as they neared the camp to see a procession of the fellows coming down the road, some beating on imaginary drums, others blowing on horns, still others with harmonicas and jewsharps, but managing in some unaccountable way to evolve the well-known air of “Hark! The Conquering Hero Comes!” It was evident that the news of their adventure had preceded them. The “Gray Ghost,” coming over to the camp to discuss some detail of the forthcoming race,[117] had overtaken the farmer leading the runaway horses and had learned the particulars. Hence the impromptu band and the nerve-racking rendition of the triumphal welcome. It was comical but cordial, and the boys would not have been human had they failed to appreciate it. And later on their hearts thrilled with still greater pleasure at Mr. Hollis’ earnest words of commendation. They were soon seated at the table with their guests from the rival camp, and in the discussion of the anticipated race all else was forgotten. They had not finished before a strange automobile rolled up and the colored chauffeur lifting a large basket from the car and bowing low, announced that it was for Mr. Bert Wilson and his friends from the ladies whom they had rescued that day from deadly peril. Many and loud were the exclamations of delight when the basket was found to be filled with the mostly costly and delicious fruit. Before the onslaught of the crowd it vanished like magic and Jim urged the boys to stop a team of runaways every day that summer. The fruit seemed to the boys the last souvenir of that memorable day, so crowded with incident and accident. But it was not. The “lucky three” were to be reminded of this day’s adventure in a most unexpected manner before the season ended. <hr class="chap" />[118] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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