Dorothy's Triumph Part 9

"You are _my_ dearest chum, Dorothy Calvert!" cried Aunt Betty, who entered the room at this moment. "How are you, Aurora?"

"Very well, Mrs. Calvert."

"I am glad to see you here. My little girl will get lonesome, I fear, unless her friends drop in frequently to see her."

"I shall almost live over here, now Dorothy is home," replied Aurora.

"Indeed she will," Dorothy put in. "And Molly is coming, Aunt Betty!"

Triumphantly she displayed the letter. "Ephy just brought it. Want to read it?"

"No; you can tell me all about it, dear," returned Aunt Betty. "I am glad she is coming. I hardly thought she'd refuse. Judge Breckenridge is very good to her, and allows her to travel pretty much as she wills."

The talk turned again to the camping trip.

"I have talked it over with Dorothy," said Aunt Betty, "and we have decided to be ready Wednesday morning."

"That will suit us fine," said Aurora. "Gerald couldn't get away before Tuesday anyway, and another day will not matter. He thinks we'd better plan to start in the cool of the morning, stopping for breakfast about eight o'clock at some village along the route--there are plenty of them, you know. The recent rains have settled the dust, and the trip, itself, should be very agreeable. We figure on being out only one night, reaching the mountains on the second morning. Of course, if pushed, the auto could make it in much less time, but Gerald thinks we'd better take our time and enjoy the ride."

"The plan is a fine one," said Aunt Betty, "especially the getting away in the early morning, before the hot part of the day sets in."

"I thoroughly agree with you, auntie," said Dorothy.

"If we fail to find a village," Aunt Betty continued, "where we can get coffee and rolls, we will draw on our own supply of provisions and eat our breakfast en route. Or we can stop by the wayside, where Ephy can make a fire and I can make some coffee."

"Oh, you make my mouth water," said Aurora, who knew that Aunt Betty Calvert's coffee was famous for miles around.

Aurora took her leave a short while later, and hardly had she gone before Gerald Blank drew up in front of the Calvert place in his big automobile and cried out for Jim and Ephraim.

Neither the boy nor the negro needed a second invitation. Each had been keen in antic.i.p.ation of the ride--Jim because of his natural interest in mechanism of any sort; Ephraim because he felt proud of the t.i.tle "chauffeur," which Aurora had bestowed upon him, and was curious to have his first lesson in running "dat contraption," as he termed it.

"I tell you, Gerald, she's a dandy," said Jim, after the boys had shaken hands and made a few formal inquiries about the interval which had elapsed since last they met. As Jim spoke, his eye roamed over the long torpedo body of the big touring car.

Straight from the factory but a few weeks since, replete with all the latest features, the machine represented the highest perfection of skilled mechanical labor. The body was enameled in gray and trimmed in white, after the fas.h.i.+on of many of the torpedo type of machines which were then coming into vogue.

Seeing Jim's great interest, Gerald, who was already a motor enthusiast, went from one end of the car to the other, explaining all the fine points.

"There is not a mechanical feature of the Ajax that has not been thoroughly proven out in scores of successful cars," he said. "Now, here, for instance, is the engine." Throwing back the hood of the machine, the boy exposed the mechanism. "That's the Renault type of motor, known as 'the pride of France,' and one of the finest ever invented. Great engineers have gone on record that the men who put the Ajax car together have advanced five years ahead of the times.

You will notice, Jim, that the engine valves are all on one side.

You're enough of a mechanician to appreciate the advantage of that.

It makes it simple and compact, and gives great speed and power. We should have little trouble in traveling seventy miles an hour, if we chose."

"Lordy, we ain't gwine tuh chose!" cried Eph.

"Why, I thought you had the speed mania, Ephy," was Gerald's good-natured retort.

"Don' know jes' w'at dat is, Mistah Gerald, but I ain't got hit--no, sah, I ain't got hit."

"Now, Jim," Gerald continued, as they bent over to look under the car, "you see the gear is of the selective sliding type, which has been adopted by all the high grade cars. And back here is what they term a floating axle. The wheels and tires are both extra large--in fact, there is nothing about the car, that I've been able to discover, that is not the best in the business."

"What a fine automobile agent you'd make, Gerald!"

"Do you think so?"

"Surely. You spiel it off like a professional. The only difference is, I feel what you say is true. I am greatly taken with that engine, and should like to see it run."

"When we start in a moment, you shall have that pleasure. Of course, I could run it for you now, while the machine is standing still, but they say it's poor practice to race your engine. If you do so, the wear and tear is something awful."

"I'd heard that, but had forgotten," said Jim.

"Well, come on, now, and I'll take you and Ephy for a spin, and, incidentally, I'll teach you both how to run the car."

Jim crawled into the front seat, Ephraim occupying the big five-pa.s.senger compartment in the rear. Gerald, after "cranking up,"

took his seat behind the steering wheel.

"All ready, Ephy?"

"Yas'r--yas'r."

"Then we're off."

The big Ajax started without a jar and moved almost noiselessly off down the road. The engine ran so smoothly that it was hard to imagine anything but an electric motor was driving the machine.

Gerald knew Baltimore and its environs by heart. He did not enter the city immediately, however, but kept to the fine country roads which lay just outside. When a level stretch was reached once, he put her on the high speed, and Jim and Ephraim traveled for a few moments at a pace neither had ever experienced before--even on a railroad train.

Finally, slowing down, Gerald said:

"Now I'll change places with you, Jim, and you shall run the car."

The change was quickly effected, Jim being eager to feel the big steering wheel in his grasp, his feet on the pedals in front, with the single thought in his mind that the Ajax was run and controlled by his hand alone.

Gerald explained the points of starting, showing him the three speeds forward and the reverse; how to regulate his spark so as to keep the motor from knocking, especially on heavy grades; then how to advance the spark where the pull was slight, so as to make the motor work cooler and to use less gasoline.

Jim admired Gerald's thorough knowledge of the car. It showed a side to the boy's nature that Jim had not suspected--in fact, the Gerald Blank who owned this auto was hardly the same boy who had caused so much dissension on the houseboat the summer before.

"When you think you've had enough, we'll let Ephy try it," said Gerald.

"I'd never get enough," smiled Jim. "So better let Ephy get a-hold right here and now."

He good-naturedly resigned his post, and Ephraim soon found himself sitting in the chauffeur's seat, the big steering wheel almost touching his breast, his feet on the pedals. Then Gerald instructed him as he had Jim. When he told the old negro to press slowly on one of the pedals to make the machine slow down, Ephraim misunderstood his orders and pressed the wrong one, with the result that the speed remained undiminished, while the exhaust set up such a beating that Ephy turned a shade whiter.

The joke was on him. No harm was done, and soon, when Gerald and Jim were through laughing at him, he began to show considerable agility in the handling of the car.

"I'll give you both another lesson to-morrow," said Gerald, as, some seven miles out of the city, he took charge of the big machine and turned for the run back to Baltimore.

Soon the engines began to sing as the car gathered headway. The road was clear ahead, hence Gerald felt no qualms about "speeding her up."

He kept a close watch, however, for lanes and crossroads, twice slowing down for railway crossings, only to resume his former pace when on the other side. Trees and houses flashed past in hopeless confusion. A cloud of dust arose behind them, and mingled with the gaseous smoke that came from the rear of the machine.

Through the city they went, now at a much lessened pace--in fact, at only eight miles an hour, which was the speed limit in the city--finally turning out along the sh.o.r.es of the Chesapeake toward old Bellvieu.