CHAPTER VIII
PLANS FOR THE BIG RACE
Quite likely it was because they were so completely engrossed with theintended search of the Ship woods--the main item in the plan they haddiscussed for many months, that the Auto Boys had thus far given theGold Cup races little heed. Casually they had mentioned among themselvesthe circumstances that the western boundary of the woods was not manymiles from the scene of the great stock car contests, but that was all.
Beside the campfire they kindled close to the dashing, woodland stream,however, the subject was suggested by an item in a city newspaperpurchased in one of the small towns on the day's run. The final layingout of the twenty-six-mile course, it now appeared, had brought onecorner of the irregular circuit to within a few miles of the greatforest. The general headquarters would be in Queensville, only ahalf-hour's ride beyond.
"We'll just slip over there of a morning now and then and watch thepractice work," proposed Phil. He brought his open right hand down likea small pile driver upon his left wrist at the same moment, not by wayof emphasis, but in deadly attack upon a mosquito.
"And go to the races? Sure!" put in Billy Worth, asking and answeringthe question all in one breath. "Wonder we never realized how nearQueensville we'd be!"
"Yes, we'll let the race meet upset all our plans and we'll go home withnothing to show for the whole trip," muttered MacLester, with atremendous yawn.
Jones came up with a lot of green weeds, twigs and leaves for the firejust in time to hear Dave's comment. He dropped the armful on the blaze,producing a smoky "smudge" as protection from mosquitoes, and sathimself down cross-legged upon the ground. Then very deliberately--
"David, I really think you better go to bed," he said. "You're tired andcross. Go to bed, so as to wake up early in the morning and hear thebirds sing," he added soberly.
"Possibly I _am_ somewhat fatigued," was the cutting response, "andbeing so, you will kindly pardon me if I don't tear any buttons offlaughing at such a positively brilliant witticism."
Paul grinned his appreciation of this thrust but before he could answer,Phil Way broke in: "Why, no! The races needn't interfere with our plansat all. Who knows but what a day or two will end the whole expedition sofar as anything the woods contains is concerned? We wouldn't want tohike back right away! We're after fun as much as anything, aren't we?"
"And the most fun I can think of right this minute is to get somesleep," Dave replied. Then with a cushion from the car for a pillow hestretched out upon his blanket. "Happy day when we get the tent up andgo into camp right, about to-morrow night," he said, as if to himself.
And if there was a note of irritation in his tone it was because he_was_ very tired. Dave was a trifle gloomy and occasionally the leastbit sour by disposition; but in this instance it must be remembered thathe had been at the wheel of the Thirty all day; also, that the rest ofall the boys had been much disturbed the night before.
"Really believe I am '_somewhat fatigued_,' myself," chirped Paul, a fewminutes later, gay and lively to the very last. For scarcely had headded: "Gee! This is a _downy_ couch!--Down about a foot too far!" thanhe dropped off sound asleep on his blanket spread over the grass.
Billy and Phil were not long in following the example of the other twoand presently the only sound to break the silence was the tinkle ofbells where some sheep were feeding in a pasture across the littlestream.
Tired humanity finds rest and comfort even on the bare ground when moreconventional beds are not obtainable. Yet Dave was right. Another night,when a permanent camp had been established, might easily show a markedimprovement in the lads' situation. Not but that all four were happy andcontented just as they were! Any one of them would have assertedemphatically that he was having a fine time. But--confidentially--a nicedreamy nap on the soft grass beneath some tree on a warm afternoon isone thing, and sleeping all night on the ground is another. Even theAuto Boys, in strictest confidence, mind you, would have admitted it.
Time was that, when sleeping out, whether in the open as on thisoccasion, or in the hillside hut of Gleason's Ravine, the boys foundthemselves subject to a certain degree of nervousness. The distantshriek of a locomotive whistle on the still night air might cause any orall of them to start into partial or complete wakefulness, uncertainwhether the sound was not a human voice. The heavy barking of a dog faraway, yet in the silence and the darkness seeming very close, was apt toproduce a similar effect. The certain conviction that the sounds camenearer, being directed, indeed, straight toward the camp, easilyimpressed itself upon high-strung imaginations.
A considerable variety of experience of this character is common to mostcamping parties whose members have seldom slept with no roof but thesky, or none but a bit of canvas, at the most. It would not do to saythey are caused by timidity. But rather they are the result ofsurroundings wholly unlike those to which body and mind have beenaccustomed.
But there are delights in sleeping out of doors which those who havenever experienced them can scarcely imagine. Even though the couch be"downy" after the manner Paul Jones described, there are compensations.Of course there must be sufficient covering to keep one warm, and a roofof some kind when it rains. With these provided, soft mattresses maywell be dispensed with. The company of the stars, the good, fresh air,the music of the breeze in the branches above--these and much more willbe bountiful recompense.
Every one of the Auto Boys would have endorsed these remarks and withenthusiasm, I am sure. Dave may have wished for a bed in an establishedcamp rather than the one he had on the bare ground. They would all havevoted for that. A pillow, even though made of a blanket-end spread overfresh pine twigs or clean, freshly gathered grass, beats an automobilecushion as a head-rest. This no one would deny. And if the establishedcamp means one thing, and the roadside resting place the other, it isvery well to choose the former.
The degree of comfort is the only question. The delights of out-of-doorsexist as certainly one way as another. Thus, for instance, in eithersituation, are the stars, whether they look down in the tranquillity ofa calm, still night, or through broken, storm-tossed clouds, mostexcellent and interesting company.
Now the whole purpose of this digression from the story is to make clearthe _reason_ back of the simple statement that the Auto Boys sleptsoundly. Notwithstanding their strange surroundings and their lack of apermanent camp's greater comforts, they passed the night in unbrokenrest. If they awakened at any time it was merely to turn over and fallasleep again. If in the interim they noted, drowsily, the stars stillbright, the sky still clear and the promise of fine weather to-morrow,it was merely this and nothing more. The apprehensions that at one timewould have come to them that possibly danger lurked in the deepershadows they rarely if ever experienced now.
And let no one suppose it is not something of a trial to desert one'ssnug resting place upon the ground in the morning, quite as much as itis to leave a soft, warm bed indoors. The temptation to indulge in justone more little snooze of five minutes, ten minutes or whatever time onethinks he might possibly allow himself, is quite the same. Completewakefulness and ambition return more quickly in the open air andbuoyancy of spirit is usually greater--that is all.
With the responsibility of breakfast on his shoulders Billy Worth wasthe first astir. The sun was well up and all the woodland was merry withthe songs of birds. Robins piped musically from the old rail fence.Bobolinks, jays, bluebirds, chattering blackbirds and even crows addedtheir voices to the odd combinations of melody. In some not distantpasture a boy was calling loudly as he drove up the cows.
Into the cool, clear brook where the swift current eddied among somestones, Billy plunged hands and arms elbow deep. He dashed the waterover his face with a half-shiver and ran to the towel left hanging overnight on the steering wheel.
"You fellows going to get up?" he inquired abruptly.
"Yep! Right away!" came the response from Phil, and with a reluctantsigh he sat up and looked about him. From Dave and Paul came no answer.
"I'm going to get a bucket of water at the creek. I'll be back here inabout a minute, and anybody who's not up is going to get ducked! Sothere's fair warning!" announced Mr. Worth. There was a note ofdetermination in his voice.
Maybe Billy even hoped the two still stretched snugly in their blanketswould fail to take him at his word. He would soon show them whether hemeant what he said or not, he thought. But by the time he reached thebrook Dave rose slowly and stretched himself. Seeing this, young Mr.Worth lost no time.
Half filling the small bucket, he raced back to camp. The distance wasonly a few yards. Two more quick steps and he would have reached theprostrate Paul; but suddenly as if shot from a gun that young gentlemanleaped to his feet.
"Just saved _yourself_!" laughed Worth, making a move with the bucket asif he thought a little cold water judiciously applied might be a goodthing anyway.
"Well, you want to remember that I gathered all the stuff for the smudgelast night, and I need my rest," said Jones with a half injured air butwith a sly smile, too.
"Well, that's so! Five minutes' work does quite exhaust some people,"Billy returned with friendly sarcasm. "If you could possibly wiggle alittle firewood up this way and Phil will get the grub out while Daveputs the blankets and things away, I'll see if we can't have a lightcollation in the shape of breakfast."
Way was already kindling the fire with the remnants of last night's fuelsupply. Paul acted upon instructions with reasonable alacrity and a finebed of coals was ready by the time the bacon was in one frying-pan andseveral large potatoes, washed, peeled and sliced, were in another.Coffee and bread and butter completed the menu, and as a fine appetiteis another of the delights of open air living, the call to breakfastwas answered a great deal more promptly than Chef Billy's earlier callto get up had been.
So was another day begun. So a little later was the Thirty againmeasuring off the hard, smooth clay of the road while the bright Junesun and pleasant breezes combined to set off most delightfully every oneof nature's early summer charms.
For mile upon mile the Auto Boys' route was bordered by rich pastures,waving meadows and the cultivated fields of a fine farming country. Thewheat was coming into head. The oats marked the long, parallel lines ofthe drills like millions of tiny soldiers in green uniforms massedregiment upon regiment. Farmers, their sons and their hired men werebusy with cultivators and with hoes in many a field where the young cornwas starting off vigorously, as if having particularly in mind thatgrowth expected of every good corn field, "knee high by Fourth of July,"and meant to establish a new record.
Surely there's nothing to equal motoring as a means of seeing thecountry. Not only are the constant change of landscape and constantsuccession of new scenes which the railway traveler may enjoy, to be hadin an automobile but more--very much more.
The motorist gains a great deal that the railroad passenger inevitablymisses. For the man on the train the musical clang of the dinner bell asone passes near some farmhouse, for instance, is lost--swallowed up inthe noise and rush of the locomotive. The sweet scent of the wild crabapple can never make its presence known in the skurrying currents of airsweeping constantly aside from and after the wheels of steel. And theseare but samples of countless impressions upon the senses the automobiletourist experiences, which he who journeys by rail may meet only by rarechance.
The difference is vast. The Auto Boys discussed the subject with keenappreciation of their good fortune in owning a machine.
"Why!" said Billy Worth, "it amounts to the same thing as thedifference between pictures and actual life. You can lay eyes on a scenelike that young fellow plowing, over yonder, say, in any art store. Youcan see the green of the grass and the brown of the ploughed land. Seethe trees and the old rail fence in the background and the team ofhorses and the driver. But it doesn't mean anything like as much as whenyou can at the same time catch that smell of the ground just turned overand hear that hired man calling out to his team. Hear him? Hear thatchap yonder, now?"
And through the air, rich with the fragrance of the freshly ploughedearth came in lusty tones: "Ha-a-a-aw! Haw, there! Molly! You great bighaystack, why don't you ha-a-w?"
Certainly Billy was right.
The Auto Boys' Quest Page 8