Bert Wilson's Twin Cylinder Racer

by Burt L. Standish

  CHAPTER XVI

  DESPERATE CHANCES

  Bert's stay at the pleasant seaside hotel was limited to a few hoursonly, but he gained incalculable refreshment from the short rest. It waswith regret that he could not spend more time there that he took leaveof the proprietor, and repaired to the motorcycle store where he hadleft the "Blue Streak" to have some very necessary work done on it. Theengine had not been overhauled since starting from New York, and thecylinders were badly incrusted with carbon. He had left directions forthis to be scraped out, and when he reached the shop expected to findhis machine waiting for him in first-class condition. What was hischagrin therefore, when, on entering the place, the first thing he sawwas the "Blue Streak" in a dismantled condition, parts of it strewn allover the floor.

  He hunted up the proprietor, and indignantly asked him why the machinewas not ready according to promise.

  "I'm very sorry," the man told him, "but as one of the mechanics wasscraping the front cylinder it dropped on the floor, and when he pickedit up he found it was split. So we can't do anything with the machineuntil we get a new cylinder."

  "But haven't you got a machine in the place you could take a cylinderfrom, and put it on my machine?" asked Bert. "I can't afford to be heldup here for a day while you send away for a new part."

  "There isn't a machine in the place that would have a cylinder to fityours," said the proprietor; "if it had been a rear cylinder, it wouldhave been easy enough to give you another, because we could take one offa one-cylinder machine that would fit. But, as it happens, I haven't atwin cylinder machine in the place."

  "But how long will it take to get the new one here?" asked Bert.

  "About half a day, I should say," replied the other.

  "Half a day!" echoed Bert, and his heart sank. "Why, if I lose that muchtime here it probably means that I'll lose the race. Do you realizethat?"

  "I don't see what we can do about it," replied the proprietor, shrugginghis shoulders. "I'll get the cylinder for you the first minute I can,but that's the best I can do."

  Bert saw that there was no use arguing the matter. He walked out ofthe place without another word, but with a great bitterness in hisheart. All his days of heartbreaking riding--the hardships he hadundergone--the obstacles he had faced and overcome--all these thingswere in a fair way of being set at nought because of the carelessnessof a stupid mechanician. The thought almost drove him frantic, and hehurried along the pavement, scarcely noticing where he was going. Atlast he collected his thoughts somewhat and pulled himself together.Looking about him, he saw that he was not far from the postoffice, andit occurred to him that there might be a letter for him from Tom orDick.

  With this thought in mind he entered the postoffice, in one corner ofwhich there was also a telegraph station.

  Walking up to the window, he inquired if there was any mail for BertWilson.

  "No," said the functionary behind the grating, "but there's a telegramjust come in for a party of that name. Bill!" he called, to thetelegraph operator, "here's Mr. Wilson now, him that you just got thetelegram for."

  "Oh, all right," replied the operator, "here you are, sir. I was justgoing to send it up to your hotel."

  "Much obliged," said Bert, and tore open the yellow envelope.

  "Ride fast," it read, "have just heard Hayward is within three hundredmiles of San Francisco. Hurry."

  The slip of yellow paper dropped from Bert's nerveless fingers. Threehundred miles away. Why, Bert was as far from San Francisco as thathimself, with mountainous roads still before him, and his machine out ofcommission!

  If he could only do something, anything, that would be a relief. But hewas absolutely helpless in the grasp of an unforeseen calamity, and allhe could do was to pray desperately for the speedy arrival of the newcylinder.

  He hastened back to the repair shop, and found that in his absenceeverything, with, of course, the exception of the front cylinder, hadbeen put together. "We've done all we can," the proprietor assured him."A few minutes ago I called up the agents in Clyde and they said thattheir man was on the way with it. So it ought to get here early thisafternoon."

  "Well," declared Bert grimly, "I'm not going to stir out of this placetill it does come, let me tell you."

  He waited with what patience he could muster, and at last, a littlebefore two o'clock, the long-awaited cylinder arrived. With feverishhaste Bert fastened it to the motor base himself, too impatient to letanybody else do it. Besides, he was resolved to take no chances ofhaving _this_ cylinder damaged. Ten minutes later the last nut had beentightened, and the "Blue Streak" was wheeled out into the street. Nowthat the heartbreaking waiting was over, Bert felt capable of anything.As he vaulted into the saddle, he made a compact with himself. "If mymachine holds out," he resolved, "I will not sleep again until I reachSan Francisco;" and when Bert made a resolution, he kept it.

  He scorched through the streets of the town regardless, for the timebeing, of local speed ordinances. In a few minutes he was out onthe open road, and then,--well, the "Blue Streak" justified all theencomiums he had ever heaped upon it. Up hill and down he sped, ridinglow over the handlebars, man and machine one flying, space-devouringunit. The day drew into dusk, dusk changed to darkness, and Bertdismounted long enough to light his lamp and was off again, streakingover the smooth road like a flying comet. At times he slowed down as heapproached curves, but was off again like the wind when he had roundedthem. Sometimes steep hills confronted him, but the speeding motorcycletook them by storm, and topped their summits almost before gravity couldact to slacken his headlong speed. Then the descent on the other sidewould be a wild, dizzy rush, when at time the speedometer needle reachedthe ninety mark.

  But the country became more mountainous after a while, and Bertencountered hills that even the "Blue Streak" was forced to negotiate onlow speed. This ate up gasoline, and about midnight Bert, on stopping amoment to examine his fuel supply, found that it was almost exhausted.Fortunately, however, about a mile further on he reached a waysidegarage. He knocked repeatedly, but received no answer.

  "Just the same, I've got to have gasoline," thought Bert, and actedaccordingly. With a screwdriver he pried open a window, and, filling acan from a barrel, returned to his machine and filled the tank. Then hereplaced the can, and left the price of the gasoline in a prominentplace.

  "Needs must when the devil drives," he thought, "and I simply had tohave that juice."

  And now he was once more flying through the night, the brilliant raysfrom his lamp dancing and flickering on the road ahead, and at timesstriking prismatic colors from rocky walls as the road passed throughsome cut. Mile after mile passed back under the flying rider andmachine, but still they kept on with no sign of slackening. Graduallydawn broke, misty and gray at first, but then brightening and expandinguntil the glorious light of full day bathed the hills in splendor. Andthen, as Bert looked up and around, slowing down so that he could thebetter drink in the glorious scene, he beheld, at a great distance, theroofs and towers of a great city, and knew that it was San Francisco,the golden city of the West. Sixteen days since he left New York andthe goal toward which he had struggled so bravely was at hand!

  But even now there was no time to be lost. At this moment, Hayward mightalso be approaching the city, and Bert was too wise to risk failure nowwith the prize so nearly within his grasp. He started on again, his mindin a whirl, and all thought of fatigue and exhaustion banished. The roadwas bordered by signs indicating the right direction, and in less thanan hour Bert was riding through the suburbs of San Francisco.

  Bert's entrance into the city was signalized by a display of the wildestenthusiasm on the part of a big crowd that had turned out to meet thewinner. The details of the thrilling transcontinental race in which hehad been engaged had received their due share of space in the bigdailies, and his adventures and those of the other contestants had beenclosely followed by every one possessing a drop of red blood in hisveins.

  Bert was totally unprepared fo
r such a reception, however, and it tookhim by surprise. He had been through many adventures and had encounteredmany obstacles, but had pulled through by dint of indomitable will andpluck. But, as he afterward confessed to Tom and Dick, he now felt forthe first time like running away. But he soon abandoned this idea, andchugged slowly along until at last he was forced by the press of peopleabout him to stop.

  When he dismounted he was deluged by a flood of congratulations and goodwishes, and was besieged by a small army of newspaper men, each anxiousto get Bert's own account of the race. It was some time before he couldproceed, but at last he started on, surrounded by a contingent ofmotorcycles, ridden by members of local clubs. They went slowly along,until in due time they reached the city hall. Bert was ushered into thepresence of the mayor, who received him with great cordiality, and aftera few words read the letters Bert handed him.

  "Well, Mr. Wilson," he said, when he had mastered their contents, "I amcertainly glad to know you, and I only wish you were a native of thisState. We need a few more young men of your sort."

  "I'm much obliged for your good opinion, your Honor, I'm sure," repliedBert, and after answering many questions regarding his trip, took hisdeparture.

  Returning to the street, he mounted his machine, and, still accompaniedby the friendly motorcyclists, proceeded to the hotel at which he hadarranged to stop during his stay in San Francisco. Of course, Tom andDick were there to meet him, and hearty were the greetings the threecomrades exchanged.

  "It hardly seems possible that I've won at last," said Bert. "I wasn'tsure that Hayward hadn't beaten me in, until I heard the crowdscheering."

  "Oh, you won, all right," Dick assured him, "but you didn't have muchtime to spare. I just heard somebody say that Hayward got in not fiveminutes ago. I'll bet he nearly went crazy when he heard that you'dbeaten him in spite of his crooked work."

  "Well, when I learned what kind of a fellow he was, I just _had_ to beathim," said Bert, with a smile.

  Dick and Tom took charge of his machine, and stored it safely in thelocal agency, where it was immediately hoisted into the show window andexcited much attention.

  By the time they returned to the hotel, Bert had answered the questionsof a number of newspaper men, taken a much-needed bath, and dressed.

  In his well-fitting clothes, that set off his manly figure, he looked avery different person from the dusty, travel-stained young fellow he hadbeen but a short time before, and he was delighted to feel that for alittle while he was "out of uniform."

  But Tom and Dick immediately collared him, and, as he professed himself"fresh as a daisy," took him out to see some of the town. They had notgone far before they were recognized by one of the riders who had formedBert's "Bodyguard" during his ride to the mayor's office. He introducedhimself as John Meyers. Nothing less than their immediately paying avisit to his club would satisfy him, they found, so at last they gave inand told him to "lead on."

  The other laughingly complied. "It isn't far from here," he assuredthem, "and if you like our looks we'll be glad to have you stay todinner. After that, if you're not too fagged, a few of us will be gladto take you around and show you the sights. We're all proud of it, andwe want visitors to see it."

  "That programme listens good," replied Bert, "and we're 'on,' as far asthe dinner goes. After that, though, I think I'll be about ready to turnin. I was riding all last night, and I feel like sleeping withoutinterruption for the next week."

  "Well, that's just as you say," agreed Meyers, "but here we are now.Pretty nifty building, don't you think?"

  It was indeed a handsome house into which he presently ushered them, andthey soon saw that its interior did not belie its outward appearance.The rooms were large, and furnished comfortably and in good taste.

  In the front room several fine looking young fellows were engaged in alaughing conversation. They broke off when they caught sight of Meyersand the three strangers with him. Introductions were soon made, and thethree comrades found themselves made thoroughly at home.

  Of course, the chief topic of conversation was Bert's journey, and heanswered questions until he was tired.

  "Here, fellows," said Meyers, perceiving this, "I think we'vecross-examined Wilson enough for the present. Anyway, dinner's ready,and we'll see if you can eat as well as you can ride."

  "Lead me to it," exclaimed Bert, "I'm as hungry as a wolf."

  They were soon seated around a table on which was set forth a substantialmeal, and it is almost needless to say that they all did it amplejustice.

  During the meal the chief topic of discussion, next to Bert'srecord-breaking feat, was the forthcoming race at the big saucer track,in which riders from all over the world were to compete.

  Bert listened with great attention, for it was of the most vitalimportance to him to know as much as possible of the track on which hewas scheduled to pit his skill and courage against the best and mostexperienced motorcyclists of the globe. Of course, he would be givenample time to practice and learn the tricks of the big saucer forhimself, but his experience of life so far had taught him not toneglect even the slightest bit of knowledge that might make for success.

  In due course of time the meal was despatched, and they returned to thelounging room. A couple of pleasant hours were spent in conversation andjoking, and swapping tales of eventful rides under every conceivablecondition of sunshine and storm.

  At last Bert rose, and said, "Well, boys, I've certainly enjoyed myvisit, but I'm afraid I'll have to make a break"--consulting his watch."I've had a mighty hard time of it lately, and I'm about all in."

  He shook hands all around, and with many expressions of friendship fromthe club members and amid hearty invitations to call again, Bert and hiscompanions took their departure.

  "I suppose you'll begin practicing at the track pretty soon now, won'tyou, Bert?" asked Tom, as they turned their steps toward the hotel.

  "You suppose right, old timer," said Bert, slapping him affectionatelyon the shoulder, "to-morrow, or maybe the day after, I'll get down tobusiness. I want to know that track as well as I know the back yard athome before the day of the race."

  "You can't know too much about it, that's certain," said Dick, soberly."You haven't had much practice in that sort of racing, Bert, and I'malmost afraid to have you try it."

  "Nonsense," laughed Bert, "why, I'll be safer there than I would bedodging autos on Broadway, back in little old New York. Don't worryabout me. I'll put the jody sign on all of them, provided, of course,that my machine doesn't take it into its head,--or into its gasolinetank--to blow up, or something else along the same line."

  "Heaven forbid," ejaculated Dick, piously, "but I guess we'd betterchange the subject. It isn't a very cheerful one at best."

  "You're right, it isn't," agreed Bert, "but those club fellows gave mesome good tips regarding the track. They seem to know what they'retalking about."

  "They're a great crowd," said Tom, enthusiastically, "and they know howto do things up right, too. They certainly gave us a fine dinner."

  "No doubt about it," concurred Bert, "but it's made me feel mightysleepy. I haven't slept in so long that I'm afraid I've forgotten how."

  "Well, here we are at the hotel, anyway," laughed Dick, "so you'll soonhave the chance to find out."

  After a little more conversation they parted and went to their rooms.

  The last thing Bert heard as he dropped off to sleep was the stridentcry of a newsboy. "Wuxtra! Wuxtra! All about Wilson winning thetranscontinental race. Wuxtra! Wuxtra!"