Bert Wilson at the Wheel
Page 4
CHAPTER IV
THE CHALLENGE
Dave certainly could not complain of a bored or indifferent audience.Even Mr. Hollis was absorbed and listened with a smile on his kindlyface. He was always intensely interested in anything the boys said ordid, and was never happier than when he saw that they were especiallyenjoying themselves.
Dave had just reached the most thrilling part of his story, and in theirimaginations the boys could hear the wailings of the ghost and theclanking of his chains. He was describing the awful appearance of itssunken fiery eyes, when Shorty happened to glance apprehensively aroundand immediately emitted a blood-curdling yell.
"The ghost! The ghost!" he stammered, pointing in the direction of theroad. All leaped to their feet and followed the direction of Shorty'strembling finger, and for a moment even Bert Wilson felt a queer littletightening sensation about the heart, for there, apparently comingdirectly toward them, were the fiery eyes that Dave had just describedwith such gusto.
"Why, you simps," laughed Bert, "that's no ghost, or if it is, it is themost solid spook I ever heard of. Those are the acetylene lamps ofanother auto," and as he spoke he exchanged significant glances with Mr.Hollis.
Somewhat ashamed of having been so startled, the boys now fell toguessing at the mission of the strange car. They had not long to wait.In a few minutes they could hear the purring of its exhaust, and soon agreat gray automobile dashed into camp and drew up in front of the fire.
From it descended a genial looking man, apparently of about the same ageas Mr. Hollis, followed by five clean cut young fellows.
Mr. Hollis and Mr. Thompson, as the new comer's name proved to be,evidently knew each other and shook hands heartily. Meanwhile the campboys mingled with their unexpected guests and with the freemasonry ofyouth soon became chummy.
The only fault perhaps that could be found with the new arrivals wasthat they seemed to be a trifle overbearing, and evidently thought thattheir car, which they called the "Gray Ghost," could beat any otherautomobile ever made.
It is needless to state that Bert's crowd felt the same way regarding the"Red Scout," so that the boys were soon engaged in a heated argumentconcerning the respective merits of their cars.
"Why," maintained Tom, hotly, "you fellows have no idea what our 'RedScout' can do in the way of speed and hill climbing. Just to-day we wereout on a run and, though I didn't actually time it, I am dead sure therewere stretches where we did as well as a mile a minute. What do youthink of that?" he asked triumphantly.
Indeed, this seemed to cool the visitors down somewhat and theyexchanged surprised glances. But they soon recovered their confidenceand went on to describe the speed qualities of their car withever-increasing enthusiasm.
"It was just a short time ago," said one whose name turned out to beRalph Quinby, "that we took the 'Gray Ghost' around the old race trackjust outside the town, and we averaged over fifty miles an hour. Wecould have gone much faster too, only Mr. Thompson would not let us.I'll just bet your auto couldn't go as fast as that."
It was now the turn of their hosts to look doubtful. They were sure,however, that the "Red Scout" could hold its own with any other car, andas they thought of their idolized driver, Bert Wilson, their confidencecame back with a rush.
"Well," replied Tom, drawing a long breath, "you fellows evidentlythink you could win in a race and we just _know_ that we could, so Iguess the only way to settle the dispute is to run off a race somewhereand prove which is the better machine. I know we'd be willing if youwould, wouldn't we, boys?"
There was a chorus of approving shouts from his companions, but thevisitors only smiled in a superior fashion, and evidently thought therecould be but one conclusion to any race in which their car was entered.
Meanwhile, Mr. Hollis and Mr. Thompson were holding an earnestconversation in which the latter seemed to be urging some point aboutwhich Mr. Hollis apparently hesitated. In fact, Mr. Thompson was tryingto get Mr. Hollis to give his consent to a race between the cars ownedby the two camps. But the latter thought that it would involve too muchrisk for the boys who drove the machines.
"You see, it's this way," he was saying, "you and I, Thompson, areresponsible for the safety of these boys. We both feel toward them asthough they belonged to us and if anything happened to them we wouldnever forgive ourselves. It seems to me too big a risk to take merelyfor the sake of seeing who owns the faster car."
"Yes, you're dead right there, of course," returned Mr. Thompson, "butthen I don't think the risk is so great as you imagine. I have seen thetrack they would use, provided the race was run, and I think there wouldbe little, if any, danger. The track has not been used for several yearsand most of the fence is missing, so that if they ran off the courseitself, it would only be a matter of running over the grass until theystopped. You know me well enough to realize that I would not sanctionanything that contained too large an element of peril. As for the slightrisk that undoubtedly exists, it seems to me that it would not hurt theboys to take it, and it would teach them self-reliance and confidence."
"As far as that goes," said Mr. Hollis, smiling reluctantly, "my boyshave too much confidence in themselves and I have to be constantlycurbing their tendencies toward taking chances. However, I have everyconfidence in your judgment, so I suppose I might as well consent thisonce. I wish to have it understood, however, that this is the last aswell as the first race they ever run, win or lose."
"That suits me all right, so I guess we can consider it settled,"answered Mr. Thompson, "what do you say to going over and having a lookat the machines? You haven't seen our car yet, have you?"
"No, that's a pleasure still in store for me," replied Mr. Hollis; andthe two men rose and strolled over to where the cars stood, their brasswork glittering in the light of the dancing campfire.
By this time most of the boys had gathered around the cars, but theysaluted and made way respectfully for their leaders as they came up.They both smiled when they saw Bert and Ralph Quinby, for they were soengrossed in the discussion of the respective merits and appliances oftheir cars that they did not even notice the coming of their leaders.
Such terms as "gear ratios," "revolutions per minute" and "three pointsuspension" filled the air, and Mr. Hollis whispered to Mr. Thompson:"I'll wager that those boys saturate their handkerchiefs with gasoline,so that whenever they get a block away from a machine they can smellgasoline and feel at home again."
"Wouldn't be surprised if they did," laughed Mr. Thompson.
"Here, you fellows come out of your trance," called Dick, and Bert andRalph turned quickly around and saluted.
Their leaders returned the salute, and Mr. Thompson said: "Well, Isuppose both you boys think you have a pretty fast machine there. Howwould you like to have a test of speed?"
There was a chorus of excited cries and exclamations from the boys, andtheir leaders smiled indulgently.
Bert stepped forward and said: "I think, sir, that I speak for Mr.Quinby as well as myself when I say that nothing would suit us better."Ralph gave a nod of assent and Bert went on: "We will both promise to becautious, and I think if we take proper precautions we will be able torun off a good race without an accident. How long do you think the raceought to be?"
"How long is the track that you propose using?" inquired Mr. Hollis.
"Why, it's just one mile, isn't it Ralph?" asked Mr. Thompson.
"Yes, sir," replied Ralph.
"Well, it seems to me," said Mr. Thompson, "that ten miles, that is tenfull laps around the track, ought to be about right. Will that besatisfactory to you, Mr. Hollis?"
"Yes, I can see no objection to that," replied the latter, "what dayshall we have the race?"
"How would a week from today suit you?"
"Let me see, that will be Tuesday, won't it? I guess that will besatisfactory to all concerned. How do you boys feel about it?"
They voiced a unanimous assent to these arrangements, and both sidesstarted discussing the various chances and possibilitie
s of the contest,but with perfect good humor and friendly feeling.
It was now getting late, however, and the discipline of the camps couldnot be too much relaxed, even in the face of such an important event asthis. Accordingly, hearty farewells were exchanged, and the visitorsclimbed into their big gray car.
All the boys gathered around expectantly to note the behavior of the carwhen it started, and it must be admitted that even Bert Wilson's experteye could find no defect in the handling or running of the rival machine.Ralph started it smoothly and without a jerk, and soon all they could seeof it was the angry gleam of its red tail-light.
As they turned away to prepare for sleep, Jim remarked: "Aw, I bet we'llhave a walkover in that race."
Bert knew better, however, and was convinced that he would have to useevery ounce of power that the "Red Scout" possessed to beat the "GrayGhost." But one thing he was sure of, and that was that whoever won itwas going to be a mighty close race. He did not make the mistake ofunderrating his rival, as so many boys in his position would have done,but made up his mind to do the very best he could, right from thestart.
For a long time he stood staring at the "Red Scout," and then raised itsshining hood and patted the spotless cylinders.
"I guess we can do it, old boy, but you will have to stand by me andwork as you have never worked before," he said, and gently lowered thehood and walked off toward his tent.