The Auto Boys' Quest Part 7

In some respects the two officials were well matched. Mr. Gouger was considerably the younger, but his attire had the same appearance of needing renovating that marked the marshal's outfit. In their conclusions with regard to the absolute certainty that the young strangers were automobile thieves, and that probably a reward was offered somewhere for their arrest, the two were also quite identical.

Even in their private and personal opinions of each other they did not differ greatly.

Marshal Wellock secretly considered Mr. Gouger to be nothing more than a would-be private detective, whose gilded badge was worth about five cents as a novelty--nothing more.

Eli, on the other hand, had long since reached within his own confidence the certain conviction that the town of Sagersgrove needed nothing so much as a new marshal; that Mr. Wellock was a conceited old loafer and nothing more, and that a man of about Eli Gouger's age should be in his place.

The very fact that, in the recesses of their hearts, the two men had for each other a minus quant.i.ty in the matter of admiration, was to a degree responsible for the ignominious ending of their enterprise. Each secretly planning to reap the major portion of the glory, also the reward they persuaded themselves would follow the capture of the four desperate car thieves, they chugged painfully over the road the Auto Boys had taken. Darkness had come before they were fairly started. Now it was growing very late.

"It's sure as shootin' that they stole the car. They never would have took such a road, except they was tryin' to sneak along where n.o.body would see 'em," observed Mr. Gouger.

The going grew steadily worse. It was past midnight. The little runabout had been making a slow and trying voyage over the ruts and through the holes. Perhaps Marshal Wellock was weary. He certainly had become impatient.

"Can't you get a little more speed out o' this junk wagon? Like ridin'

in a stone-boat," he remarked pretty sharply, after a long silence in which he had reflected upon the probability that Mr. Gouger was "putting up some game" on him.

Nettled by these words, and being tired, cross and likewise suspicious himself, Mr. Gouger decided to shake the marshal into a better humor by going over a very rough place at the fastest rate the little car could muster. Possibly he would have succeeded; at any rate Mr. Wellock was gripping his seat with both hands to hold on, when suddenly, whizz! The car skidded into a rut, Mr. Gouger for a moment lost control, and in another instant the little machine leaped over the low bank into a stagnant pool of thick, dirty water and almost bottomless mud.

"Now see what you done!" gasped Mr. Wellock, sputtering and spitting, as he succeeded in dragging himself up the bank. He had gone out of his seat and into the mud and water like a log rolled off a flat car.

"Who in thunder made me do it? n.o.body's fault but your own! I knew 'twasn't safe, but by _gum_! you kept squealin' for more speed! Now see what _you_ done," hotly returned Eli, who had also taken into his mouth rather more of the stagnant water than he seemed to relish. Head foremost he had pitched out over the steering wheel as the machine went down.

What followed when the two had taken inventory and found themselves not seriously damaged, though in a truly sorry plight, has in substance been told. Both men were still wet from head to foot and literally covered with the thick, oozy mud when the Auto Boys reached them.

The first task was to rescue the car. This was accomplished by means of ropes. .h.i.tched to the Thirty though the runabout had sunk almost out of sight. Beside the rekindled campfire on the ridge, a half-mile away, the two unhappy officers bathed as best they could and dried their clothes.

The dawn of the early summer morning was breaking now, and Billy Worth bestirred himself to prepare breakfast. The other boys began repacking the car which had been quickly unloaded, preparatory to answering the calls for help.

The ident.i.ty of the lads Mr. Wellock and Mr. Gouger had learned to their entire satisfaction. Yet it was with mixed feelings of disappointment and relief that they became convinced of their folly in supposing the four young men to be thieves and runaways. For it _was_ a disappointment that for all their trouble they had received nothing but a ducking in a swamp; and it _was_ something of a relief not to feel compelled to place under arrest those who had been of such timely service.

So, as they sc.r.a.ped the thickest of the mud from their clothing, the crestfallen officers agreed to say nothing to the boys to indicate that the lads themselves were, in fact, the suspected car thieves of whom, they had already told, they were in pursuit. Unfortunately their self-importance had caused them to let a large part of Sagersgrove know the object of their journey as they set out. Their return home, in consequence, was followed by a very different kind of story in the newspapers than they had pictured would be the case.

However, that was a matter for the marshal's and the detective's own and later consideration. For the present, and for a long time afterward, for that matter, the degree of admiration they confidentially entertained toward each other was not materially increased. Nevertheless, the two did have the manliness to bury their mutual feelings of irritation, in the presence of the young strangers, and to offer in return for all that had been done for them to direct the boys to a cross road by which they could soon reach their proper route.

A hasty breakfast being over, the Thirty was again turned back to the scene of the runabout's accident. The little car had not been greatly damaged and from this point it slowly led the way eastward. At a still early hour a road leading off to the right and seeming to terminate in the very depths of the marshes was reached. With the a.s.surance, however, that the rough trail was pa.s.sable and led directly to the State pike, the Auto Boys ventured upon this course, Mr. Gouger's machine going on in advance as before.

A struggle of nearly two hours through ruts and holes--one so bad that the Thirty was practically unloaded before getting through--brought the promised end. Coming out of a stump-strewn lane, for the cross road was at this point nothing more, the two machines emerged upon a fine, smooth road. There was a sigh of relief from five of the six travelers. The sixth simply shouted and the hearty enthusiasm of his "Hurrah!" was inspiring. Needless to say, the noisy one was--to use his own usual form of identification--"Mr. P. Jones, Esquire."

"It was us they were after, all right. I'm satisfied of that," was Billy Worth's comment when good-bys had been said to the two men. "They suspected something or other, and I only wish we knew what."

"I hardly believe that," Phil Way protested mildly, but Paul and Dave sided quite emphatically with Worth.

Perhaps it is immaterial, but the subject was discussed at great length.

And as the Thirty again rolled smoothly forward all but Phil recalled with unconcealed satisfaction the woeful spectacle the two men presented when first the light from the automobile lamps, carried to the scene of rescue, fell upon them.

"Why, honestly, I'm glad Dave did get us onto that awful road. We've had a real adventure," chirped Jones; but he had to dodge a backhand swing from MacLester the same moment. To make his peace in that quarter he added: "Anyhow we didn't lose so much time and I wouldn't have missed the excitement for a lot."

So, as the speed and the road permitted, the talk ran on and meanwhile the car was making good progress forward. The map showed nearly two hundred miles yet to be covered and half the distance must be made to-day if possible. If the going continued good this would be no hards.h.i.+p, but the old pike would be left behind before night, and road conditions beyond were likely to be questionable.

Following the extremely early breakfast, the usual noonday lunch was looked forward to with no little impatience as the morning advanced.

Phil had suggested that no pause be made until a small river, shown on the map to be not many miles distant, was reached, and the others agreed. Nevertheless a wagon, en route to some market with strawberries, was so much of a temptation that the car was halted and two baskets of the fine fruit were purchased. The contents of one of these disappeared in a manner well calculated to make adherents of Fletcherism hold up their hands in amazement, had any such been near--which a.s.suredly there were not, or not in the automobile, at least.

The second basket Billy Worth simply put away to be enjoyed with the regular noon luncheon; nor would all of Paul's and Dave's coaxing soften his stony-hearted determination. Billy, it will be remembered, was the cook and general chief of the commissary department. As such he possessed in a strong degree the trait, peculiar to those offices, of always being ready to repel too severe a raid upon the larder between meals and always keen to add some delicacy to the commissary's store.

And maybe Billy's idea was the right one. Certain it is that when the river bridge was crossed at last and the noon camp was made under some willows just beyond, nothing could be finer than the deliciously fresh berries with sugar and cream. Phil brought the latter from a farmhouse on the hill above and a still larger supply of good, rich milk. With the fruit, bread and b.u.t.ter, cheese, crackers and the last of the boiled ham, the repast was ample in both quant.i.ty and enjoyment.

"Only wish we had that other quart of strawberries," sighed Paul Jones, longingly.

"Of course you do, p-i-g! Lucky to have _any_!" Billy reminded him.

"Provisions are going to be a thing to look out for on this trip."

"Well spoken, my boy; well spoken!" responded Paul, with patronizing air; but Phil put in, "No joke about that. Nothing nearer the s.h.i.+p woods than Gilroy and that's six or seven miles away. No telling, either, how far back in the woods we may be."

"Great Columbus, Phil! Don't talk that way! You'll give Bill nervous prostration!" exclaimed MacLester, rising and starting to look the car over. "On the job here, you fellows, if you're going with me!" he added briskly. For Mac was driving to-day and the responsibility of covering yet another sixty miles before sundown, and over roads some of which might be extremely bad, rested on his shoulders.

If "on the job" meant "on the car," as at least seems probable, instructions were followed with alacrity. Not even pausing to gather up the evidences of their having stopped for lunch, Billy and Paul hastily packed away bread and b.u.t.ter and similar supplies, then clambered into the tonneau. Phil had hurried to the river's edge where he washed dishes and milk buckets in a shorter s.p.a.ce of time than he would ordinarily have considered proper; but the car was chugging away in waiting and he jumped up to the seat beside Dave in an exceedingly spry and nimble manner.

"Go ahead," he said, and the Thirty answered gently, smoothly to the clutch.

"You left that strawberry basket lying there by the fence and you had scribbled all over it," said Billy Worth to Paul, a half hour later. He was thinking of the possibility of the Chosen Trio coming on behind, perhaps in hot pursuit, yet uncertain of the course, "What did you write on the box?"

"Why! Say, that's _so_!" was the answer, with a disconcerted grin, "That's right! I wrote 'P. Jones, Esq.,' for one thing, and 'With kind regards to Lannington.' I drew a picture or two and--Gee! I thought I'd toss the basket into the river! Don't s'pose it will hurt, do you, Bill?"

"Guess not. Of course we aren't billing the country as if we were a circus, exactly. At least that wasn't what we set out to do."

"Well, what d'ye think of it? I'm frank to say I'm a fine young chimpanzee," Jones muttered, really blaming himself a great deal.

"Oh, don't gnash your teeth over it! There's just about one chance in a hundred that Gaines and his crew will ever find which way we came or try now to follow us," said Billy rea.s.suringly.

Phil and Dave agreed with Worth as the subject was discussed later, saying there was no probability whatever that Paul's writing would ever come to the Trio's notice. Even if Gaines' Roadster were to pa.s.s the identical spot, what likelihood was there that any of the party would notice or give heed to a little, empty strawberry basket?

So did Jones quickly recover his wonted joyousness. Blithely he was declaring, "Oh, I guess I'm no wizard! No, no wizard at all. No, not at all!" his customary good opinion of himself quite restored, within a few hours.

The sun was low. Camp for the night had been made beside a turbulent little brook where a woodland skirted the highway. Paul had gone to a dwelling some distance to the rear for milk. He returned bringing not only the five quart bucket nearly full, but eggs and a basket of berries, as well. Hence his self-complacency; hence for the third time, his words accompanied by that contagious grin, so peculiarly his own--"Oh, I guess I'm no wizard! Nothing like that at all!"

CHAPTER VIII

PLANS FOR THE BIG RACE

Quite likely it was because they were so completely engrossed with the intended search of the s.h.i.+p woods--the main item in the plan they had discussed for many months, that the Auto Boys had thus far given the Gold Cup races little heed. Casually they had mentioned among themselves the circ.u.mstances that the western boundary of the woods was not many miles from the scene of the great stock car contests, but that was all.

Beside the campfire they kindled close to the das.h.i.+ng, woodland stream, however, the subject was suggested by an item in a city newspaper purchased in one of the small towns on the day's run. The final laying out of the twenty-six-mile course, it now appeared, had brought one corner of the irregular circuit to within a few miles of the great forest. The general headquarters would be in Queensville, only a half-hour's ride beyond.

"We'll just slip over there of a morning now and then and watch the practice work," proposed Phil. He brought his open right hand down like a small pile driver upon his left wrist at the same moment, not by way of emphasis, but in deadly attack upon a mosquito.