CHAPTER I
RAMMING AN OX CART
Mingled with the frantic tooting of an automobile horn, there was theshrill shrieking of the brake-band as it gripped the wheel hub in afriction clutch.
"Hi, Bob! Look out for that ox cart ahead!" exclaimed one of threesturdy youths in the touring car.
"I should say so! Jam on the brakes, Bob!" put in the tallest of thetrio, while an elderly man, who was in the rear seat with one of theboys, glanced carelessly up to see what was the trouble.
"I have got the brake on, Jerry!" was the answer the lad at the steeringwheel made. "Can't you and Ned hear it screeching!"
The auto was speeding down a steep hill, seemingly headed straighttoward a solitary Mexican who was moving slowly along in an antiquatedox-drawn vehicle.
"Then why don't she slow up? You've got the power off, haven't you?"
"Of course! Do you take me for an idiot!" yelled Bob, or, as his friendssometimes called him, because of his fatness, "Chunky." "Of course I'veshut down, but something seems to be the matter with the brake pedal."
"Have you tried the emergency?" asked Ned.
"Sure!"
_Toot! Toot! Toot!_
Again the horn honked out a warning to the Mexican, but he did not seemto hear.
The big red touring car was gathering speed, in spite of the fact thatit was not under power, and it bore down ever closer to the ox cart.
"Cut out the muffler and let him hear the explosions," suggested Jerry.
Bob did so, and the sounds that resulted were not unlike a Gatling gunbattery going into action. This time the native heard.
Glancing back, he gave a frightened whoop and jabbed the sharp goadinto the ox. The animal turned squarely across the road, thus shuttingoff what small chance there might have been of the auto gliding past oneither side.
"We're going to hit him sure!" yelled Ned. "I say Professor, you'dbetter hold on to your specimens. There's going to be all sorts ofthings doing in about two shakes of a rattlesnake's tail!"
"What's that about a rattlesnake?" asked the old man, who, looking upfrom a box of bugs and stones on his lap, seemed aware, for the firsttime, of the danger that threatened.
"Hi there! Get out of the way! Move the cart! Shake a leg! Pull to oneside and let us have half the road!" yelled Jerry as a last desperateresort, standing up and shouting at the bewildered and frightenedMexican.
"Oh pshaw! He don't understand United States!" cried Ned.
"That's so," admitted Jerry ruefully.
"Vamoose, is the proper word for telling a Mexican to get out of theroad," suggested the professor calmly. "Perhaps if you shouted that athim he might--"
What effect trying the right word might have had the boys had no chanceof learning, for, the next instant, in spite of Bob's frantic working atthe brake, the auto shot right at the ox cart. By the merest good luck,more than anything else, for Bob could steer neither to the right norleft, because the narrow road was hemmed in by high banks, the machinestruck the smaller vehicle a glancing blow.
The force of the impact skidded the auto on two wheels up the side ofthe embankment, where, poking the front axle into a stump served tobring the car to a stop. The car was slewed around to one side, the oxwas yanked from its feet, and, as the cart overturned, the Mexican,yelling voluble Spanish, pitched out into the road.
Nor did the boys and the professor come off scathless, for the suddenstopping of their machine piled the occupants on the rear seat up ina heap on the floor of the tonneau, while Bob and Jerry, who were infront, went sprawling into the dust near the native.
For a few seconds there was no sound save the yelling of the Mexican andthe bellowing of the ox. Then the cloud of dust slowly drifted away, andBob picked himself up, gazing ruefully about.
"This is a pretty kettle of fish," he remarked.
"I should say it was several of 'em," agreed Jerry, trying to get someof the dust from his mouth, ears and nose. "You certainly hit him,Chunky!"
"It wasn't my fault! How did I know the brake wasn't going to work justthe time it was most needed?"
"Is anybody killed?" asked the professor, looking up over the edge ofthe tonneau, and not releasing his hold of several boxes which containedhis specimens.
"Don't seem to be, nor any one badly hurt, unless it's the ox or theauto," said Ned, taking a look. "The Mexican seems to be mad aboutsomething, though."
By this time the native had arisen from his prostrate position and wasshaking his fist at the Motor Boys and the professor, meanwhile, itwould appear from his language, calling them all the names to which hecould lay his tongue.
"I guess he wants Bob's scalp," said Jerry with a smile.
"It was as much his fault as mine," growled Chunky. "If he had pulled toone side, I could easily have passed."
The Mexican, brushing the dust from his clothes, approached the autoparty, and continued his rapid talk in Spanish. The boys, who had beenlong enough in Mexico to pick up considerable of the language, gatheredthat the native demanded two hundred dollars for the damage to himself,the cart and the ox, as well as for the injury to his dignity andfeelings.
"You'd better talk to him, Professor," suggested Jerry. "Offer him whatyou think is right."
Thereupon Professor Snodgrass, in mild terms explained how the accidenthad happened, saying it was no fault of the auto party.
The Mexican, in language more forcible than polite, reiterated hisdemand, and announced that unless the money was instantly forthcoming,he would go to the nearest alcade and lodge a complaint.
The travelers knew what this meant, with the endless delays of Mexicanjustice, the summoning of witnesses and petty officers.
"I wish there was some way out," said Jerry.
As the Mexican had not been hurt, nor his cart or ox been damaged, therewas really no excuse for the boys giving in to his demands.
"Let's give him a few dollars and skip out," suggested Ned. "He can'tcatch us."
This was easier said than done, for the auto was jammed up against atree stump on a bank, and the ox cart, which, the native by this timehad righted, blocked the road.
But, all unexpectedly, there came a diversion that ended matters.Professor Snodgrass, with his usual care for his beloved specimensbefore himself, was examining the various boxes containing them. Heopened one containing his latest acquisition of horned toads, biglizards, rattlesnakes and bats. The reptiles crawled, jumped and flewout, for they were all alive.
"Diabalo! Santa Maria! Carramba!" exclaimed the Mexican as he caughtsight of the repulsive creatures. "They are crazy Americanos!" he yelled.
With a flying leap he jumped into his ox cart, and with goad and voicehe urged the animal on to such advantage that, a few minutes later, allthat was to be seen of him was a cloud of dust in the distance.
"Good riddance," said Bob. "Now to see how much our machine is damaged."
Fortunately the auto had struck a rotten stump, and though withconsiderable force, the impact was not enough to cause any seriousdamage. Under the direction of Jerry the boys managed to get the machineback into the road, where they let it stand while they went to a near-byspring for a drink of water.
While they are quenching their thirst an opportunity will be taken topresent them to the reader in proper form.
The three boys were Bob Baker, son of Andrew Baker, a banker, Ned Slade,the only heir of Aaron Slade, a department store proprietor, and JerryHopkins, the son of a widow. All three were about seventeen years ofage, and lived in the city of Cresville, not far from Boston, Mass.Their companion was Professor Uriah Snodgrass, a learned man with manyletters after his name, signifying the societies and institutions towhich he belonged.
Those who have read the first book of this series, entitled, "The MotorBoys," need no introduction to the three lads. Sufficient to say thatsome time before this story opens they had taken part in some excitingbicycle races, the winning of which resulted in the acquiring of motorcycles for each of them.
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bsp; On these machines they had had much fun and had also many adventuresbefall them. Taking part in a big race meet, one of them won an eventwhich gave him a chance to get a big touring automobile, the same car inwhich they were now speeding through Mexico.
Their adventures in the auto are set forth at length in the secondvolume of the series entitled, "The Motor Boys Overland," which tells ofa tour across the country, in which they had to contend with their oldenemy, Noddy Nixon, and his gang. Eventually the boys and Jim Nestor, aminer whom they befriended, gained some information of a long lost goldmine in Arizona.
They made a dash for this and won it against heavy odds, after a fightwith their enemies. The mine turned out well, and the boys and theirfriends made considerable money.
The spirit of adventure would not drown in them. Just before reaching thediggings they made the acquaintance of Professor Snodgrass, who told awonderful story of a buried city. How the boys found this ancient townof old Mexico, and the many adventures that befell them there, are toldin the third book, called "The Motor Boys in Mexico."
Therein is related the strange happenings under ground, of the sunkenroad, the old temples, the rich treasures and the fights with thebandits. Also there is told of the rescue of the Mexican girl Maximina,and how she was taken from a band of criminals and restored to herfriends.
These happenings brought the boys and the professor to the City ofMexico, where the auto was given a good overhauling, to prepare it forthe trip back to the United States.
The boys and the professor, the latter bearing with him his belovedspecimens, started back for civilization, keeping to the best and mostfrequented roads, to avoid the brigands, with whom they had had morethan one adventure on their first trip. It was while on this homewardjourney that the incident of the Mexican and the ox cart befell them.
Having slaked their thirst the boys and the professor went back to theauto where, gathering up the belongings that had become scattered fromthe upset, they prepared to resume their journey.
"Get in; I'll run her for a while," said Jerry.
"One minute! Stand still! Don't move if you value my happiness!"exclaimed the professor suddenly, dropping down on his hands and knees,and creeping forward through the long grass.
The Motor Boys Across the Plains; or, The Hermit of Lost Lake Page 3