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Bert Wilson at the Wheel Part 9

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Exultingly Bert threw in the high speed. Their quarry had been run down at last. The motor fairly sang as they plunged up the road. Turning a curve to the right they came upon the procession of carts, now toiling along painfully. Bert never hesitated a second, but rushed past the line of wagons until he had reached the head of the caravan. Then he swung the "Red Scout" squarely across the road and with Mr. Hollis, d.i.c.k, Tom and Bob, sprang to the ground.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Then he swung the "Red Scout" squarely across the road.--(_See page 89_)]

Consternation plainly reigned in the halted carts. The men crowded forward and hastily consulted. A moment later an old man, evidently the chief, came forward. He was prepared to try diplomacy first, and with an ingratiating smile held out his hand to Mr. Hollis. The latter, ignoring the extended hand, came straight to the point.

"I want three things," he said, "and unless you are looking for trouble, you'll hand them over at once. I want the pin and watch and dog your people stole from us last night."

The leader's smile faded, to be replaced by an ominous scowl.



"It's a lie," he said sullenly, "my people stole nothing. Get out of our road," he snarled viciously, while his followers gathered threateningly around him.

The air was surcharged with danger and a fight seemed imminent, when suddenly a familiar bark came from one of the vans. Bert dashed forward, thrusting aside a young gipsy who sprang to intercept him. He threw open the van door, and out rushed Don, mad with delight. He had chewed in half the rope that held him and the frayed remnant hung about his neck as he leaped on Bert and capered frantically about him.

The game was up! Fear and chagrin were painted on the gipsies' faces.

They might have bluffed through as regards the stolen articles and it would have been almost impossible to prove their guilt. But here was the living proof of theft--proof strong enough to land their party behind the bars. Moreover, the great dog was no mean addition to the little force that faced them so undauntedly. It was plainly up to them to temporize. As Bob with regrettable slanginess, but crisp brevity, summed up the case: "They had thought to make a quick touch and getaway, but fell down doing it."

The chief held up his hand. "Wait," he said, "while I talk to my people.

Perhaps they have found something. I will see."

A whispered conversation followed and then he came forward sheepishly, holding out the watch and pin. "They found them on the grounds. I did not know," he mumbled.

Mr. Hollis took them without a word and motioned Bert to get the auto ready. He had gained his point and did not care to press his advantage further. After all, they were almost like irresponsible children, and, despite his resentment, he felt a deep pity for these half-wild sons of poverty and misfortune. Their code was not his code, nor their laws his laws. They were the "under dogs" in the fight of life. Let them go.

The motor began to hum. The party piled in, with Don between them, barking joyfully, and they swept down the shabby line of carts with not a glance behind them. They waved gaily to the old black mammy, who beamed upon them as they went by. A thought struck Bert, and turning to Tom, he shouted:

"The dark lady, Tom. The dark lady that the gipsy prophesied would bring you luck."

"Sure thing," grinned Tom. "It certainly is luck enough to get old Don back, to say nothing of the watch and pin. Isn't it, old fellow?" and he patted the dog's head lovingly.

So thought the rest of the boys, also, when the "Red Scout" reached camp.

Don was overwhelmed with caresses and strutted about as though he had done it all. As Jim put it: "Napoleon on his return from Elba had nothing on Don." It was late when the excitement subsided and the campers went weary but happy to bed.

Mr. Hollis, Bert and d.i.c.k lingered about the fire. Only these older ones had realized how ticklish a situation they had faced that day. They didn't like to think what might have happened if it had come to an open fight.

"The way you faced that crowd was the pluckiest thing I ever saw, Mr.

Hollis," said Bert; "but suppose it had come to a showdown?"

"Well," laughed Mr. Hollis, "it was a case of touch and go for a minute.

But I counted on the fact that we were right and they were wrong.

'Conscience makes cowards of us all.' Behind us were law and order and civilization. Behind them crowded nameless shapes of fear and dread that robbed their arms of strength and turned their hearts to water. It was simply a confirmation," he concluded, as he rose to say good night, "of the eternal truth:

"'Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just.'"

CHAPTER IX

HOW THE "RED SCOUT" CLIMBED DOBB'S HILL

The morning of the long antic.i.p.ated day in the "Red Scout" dawned bright and clear, and the campers who were to go were astir soon after dawn.

Most of them would willingly have dispensed with breakfast, but Mr.

Hollis insisted that they take their time and eat a hearty meal.

However, everything comes to him who waits, and at last they were ready to start. It had been arranged that on their trip they were to stop in town, and get supplies and some camp appliances that Mr. Hollis required. Otherwise they were to do as they pleased, subject only to Bert's authority.

The car was ready to start, and Bert had received Mr. Hollis' last instructions.

"Well, fellows," said Bert, "pile in, and we'll start for town right away. It rather looks now as though we might have a little rain before the day is over. I don't like the looks of the sky over there any too much, but we've got to have grub anyway, even if we have to go after it in boats."

"Yes, or we might swim, I suppose," suggested Shorty, sarcastically.

"In that case, we'd let you try it, as its only a matter of twenty miles or so each way, and see if you are as strong as your name," retorted Bert, and Shorty subsided.

Meanwhile the others had taken their appointed places in the auto, and, after adjusting spark and throttle levers, Bert walked to the front of the machine and cranked the motor.

On the first turn, such was the beautiful condition in which he kept the car, the engine started with a roar, and he quickly climbed into the driver's seat and threw in the clutch. Without a tremor the big car glided away as if moving on air, which indeed it was, in a way, if the air in the tires could be counted.

With the ease of a driver who thoroughly understands his car, Bert steered the machine around and between the b.u.mps in the road, and even one who had never ridden in an automobile before would have appreciated his masterly handling of this machine.

Suddenly Tom, who, as usual, was riding in the seat beside Bert, leaned over and said, "Say, Bert, do you suppose she would take Dobb's hill?"

Now, the hill to which Tom referred was one notorious in the neighborhood. More than one gray-haired farmer had shaken his head dubiously while inspecting the "Red Scout," and said, "Yes, that there contraption may be all right on the level, and there's no getting over the fact that it can run circles around a streak of greased lightning, but I'll bet a dollar to a doughnut that it could never get up Dobb's hill."

So Bert thought a moment before answering Tom's question, and then said, "Well, that's an awfully steep hill, but the old 'Scout' has never balked at anything yet, and I have a sneaking feeling that it wouldn't even stop at Dobb's hill. However, there is only one way of finding out about it, and that is to try it. What do you say, fellows, shall we try it and show these people around here just what our machine can do?"

There was a unanimous chorus of a.s.sent from the other occupants of the car, so at the next crossing Bert turned off the main road in the direction of the famous Dobb's hill. Soon the hill itself loomed up in front of them, and Bert opened the throttle a trifle. The machine immediately picked up speed, but to the occupants of the machine it seemed almost impossible that anything but an elevator could get up that hill. It looked to them almost like a high wall. Bert, however, was thinking more of the machine than of the hill. He had been gradually giving the engine more gas, and now, when they were almost at the foot of the hill, he realized that the moment had come to call forth the supreme effort of the motor. He opened the m.u.f.fler so as to get rid of all back pressure, and opened the throttle to its widest extent. With a bound and a roar the powerful machine took the hill, and to the boys in the car it seemed as though they had some powerful, willing animal working for them. Up the great machine climbed, with scarcely diminished speed, the engine emitting unbroken and exhilarating music, or at least that is what it sounded like to the tense boys in the auto. At last with a final roar of the motor, and rumble of the straining gears, the machine topped the hill and started on its long downward coast. Bert threw out the clutch, and giving the engine a well-earned rest after its strenuous work, allowed the "Red Scout" to glide rapidly and smoothly down the hill.

Every boy in the car seemed half-crazy with delight over the performance of their mechanical pet. Some even went so far as to pat the sides of the car, and Bob expressed the general feeling when he said, "Well, I'd rather be a camper and be able to say I held part owners.h.i.+p in a car like this, than to be King of England."

The boys also realized that a lot of credit was due Bert for the success of their climb, as even such a car as the "Red Scout" could never have gotten up that hill without expert handling.

Down the long hill glided the "Red Scout" with constantly increasing momentum, and long before they reached the bottom Bert had to apply the powerful brakes with which the machine was equipped, and check its speed.

Gradually he slowed it down to a safer, but less exciting speed, and at the bottom eased in the clutch and the willing motor took up the load.

In the meantime the sky had taken on a more threatening appearance, and while the happy-go-lucky boys in the tonneau gave it little thought, Bert, to whom the care of the car and its occupants were intrusted, cast more than one dubious and anxious glance in the direction in which the storm might be expected to break. He hoped that they might at least make the necessary trip to town and back before the rain could catch them, however, and so held a steady pace, and they were soon rolling down the main street.

Bert got out his list of the things they would need, and detailed the boys to different stores so that they could get started again as soon as possible.

Bert's last remark to them was, "Now, fellows, step just as lively as you know how, and whatever else you do, don't come back drunk." This raised a general laugh, as, it is needless to say, the boys had had no such intentions.

Bert and Tom remained with the car, and while Bert said less than the other boys about his love for the machine, it was easy to see that he had a real affection for it, and took pleasure in cleaning and adjusting it.

"Say, Tom," he called after a few minutes, "bring me grandfather, will you?" Now, "grandfather" was not what that word usually means, but an immense monkey-wrench, with jaws on it like a vise. It was called grandfather for no particular reason that anybody knew of, but someone had called it that once, and the name had stuck. The boys sometimes used it to exercise and perform feats of strength with, so heavy was it. So now, when Tom got it out of the tool box on the running board and handled it with loving care, Bert took it from him, and for several minutes was busy adjusting and tightening bolts and nuts around the motor and transmission case. Finally he handed the wrench back to Tom with a sigh of relief.

"Well!" he exclaimed. "There's a good job well done. I'll bet we could take that hill now even a little better than we did, if that's possible."

"I don't know about that," replied Tom, "this old Scout went up that hill better than I thought it could, and I guess you ought to have as much credit as the machine. After this I will back you and the 'Red Scout' against all comers."

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Bert Wilson at the Wheel Part 9 summary

You're reading Bert Wilson at the Wheel. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): J. W. Duffield. Already has 566 views.

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