The Speedwell Boys and Their Ice Racer; Or, Lost in the Great Blizzard

by Roy Rockwood

  CHAPTER I

  ON THE ROAD AND ON THE ICE

  “Crickey! this is some snow, Dan. Never saw it come so fast in my life,”declared Billy Speedwell earnestly, as his brother rolled the heavy cansof milk out of the cooling room at Fifield’s.

  Their new motor-truck, in which the boys picked up the milk from thevarious dairies under contract to Mr. Speedwell, stood near. One at atime the brothers lifted the heavy cans and tossed them into the wagon.

  “You’ll likely see a lot more snow before _this_ winter’s over, Billy,”grunted the older lad, as the last can was placed.

  “If it gets deep in the roads we may have to go back to using Bob andBetty and the old delivery wagons.”

  “Not much!” exclaimed Dan, with confidence. “We’ve got seventy horses inthis old engine; that ought to push her through the drifts.”

  “We’ll have to put the chains on her tires before we start out to-morrowmorning—unless I miss my guess. This is going to be some snow,” remarkedBilly.

  “According to the almanac,” his brother responded, “we’re going to havemany big storms this winter and lots of ice. Why! there’s a regularblizzard due before Christmas.”

  “Well, I like the winter,” declared Billy. “But if the Colasha staysfrozen over we’ll not use the _Red Arrow_ again till spring.”

  “No; I suppose not.”

  “And with the roads deep in snow we won’t do much fast riding on eitherour _Flying Feathers_, or our racing-auto.”

  “Oh! there’ll be good weather for motor-car races yet.”

  “That’s so,” cried Billy. “I guess we can get a bit of fun out of theold car, eh?”

  “We’ll try,” agreed Dan, who was just as much of a motor enthusiast ashis younger brother.

  Billy had hopped in and taken the wheel. The motor was singing beneaththem and in a moment the electric truck lurched forward and they slidout of the Fifield yard.

  When they turned into the road, heading for home, the wind and snowstruck them with all their force.

  “Some storm!” Billy muttered, with set teeth, and trying to peer ahead.

  The lamps did little good in such a smother. The flakes whipped into hisface and clung to his goggles. Again and again he wiped away theaccumulated moisture with his mittened hand—thereby blurring his sightfor a moment entirely.

  It was just after one of these attempts to clear his vision that theaccident happened. The truck was steaming along at a good clip, for theSpeedwells were anxious to get home to shelter and a warm supper.

  Dan shouted and seized his brother’s shoulder. The latter felt the jaras the mudguard struck the dim figure that he had only seen when thetruck was right upon it.

  Down went the foot passenger, who had been plowing against the storm,too, deaf and blind to the motor-truck. Billy shouted, but was not tooexcited to stop the motor and brake the car.

  He leaped into the gathering snow on one side, while Dan left the truckon the other. Fortunately the wayfarer had been flung aside; the wheelshad not passed over him.

  “He must be badly hurt, Dan!” gasped Billy, in great distress, on hisknees beside the fallen figure.

  “Does he move?”

  “I—I can’t tell. Try it, Dannie,” choked the younger Speedwell. “I—I’mafraid to do so.”

  Dan had the wrist of the unfortunate in his own bare fingers. “His pulseis all right,” he said.

  Just then the unknown stirred and muttered. What he said neither of theSpeedwells could understand; but they were both delighted. Certainly thevictim of the accident was far from dead!

  “Who are you? Are you hurt?” asked Dan.

  The other made a strange sound—it was as though he said several words,but they were unlike any speech the boys had ever heard before.

  “He can’t be intoxicated; can he?” gasped Billy.

  “Why, he’s only a boy!” declared Dan, dragging the unknown into asitting posture in the snow.

  “There’s a cut along his cheek. See! it’s bleeding.”

  Billy brought out his handkerchief and wiped the blood away. Themysterious youth—he wasn’t as old as Dan—tried to speak again. Thesounds that issued from his lips were so strange that the youngerSpeedwell was startled.

  “I never heard the like, Dan!” he gasped. “Is he some kind of aforeigner?”

  “It doesn’t sound human,” drawled Dan. “He must be a stranger fromMars.”

  But it was not altogether a joke, although the youth now staggered tohis feet with the aid of the brothers, one on either side. He had beenmuch shaken, it was evident. His cheek still bled, and he seemedstrangely weak.

  “Come along home with us, old man,” Dan said, patting him on theshoulder. “We’ll see what’s the matter with you there.”

  The stranger seemed to understand. Although he could not speakintelligibly, it was plain that he understood what the Speedwells saidto him. And he did not lack intelligence—Dan and Billy were sure of_that_. His eyes were bright and he wasn’t at all dazed. The blow hadknocked him out for only a minute.

  They helped him into the seat and again Billy started the truck. Thesnow whirled down upon them faster and faster; but this time there wasno stop made until they turned in at the Speedwell gate and the outlineof the big barn and cow stables loomed before them.

  Dan hurried the strange youth into the kitchen, where the odorous steamof supper attacked them cheerfully as soon as the outer door was opened.

  “What _is_ the matter?” cried Mrs. Speedwell, who was a motherly person,as soon as she saw her older son and the strange boy. “Is he hurt? Whois he, Daniel?”

  “I don’t believe he’s badly hurt, Mother,” explained Dan. “But hedoesn’t seem able to tell——”

  Again the unknown mumbled something. His eyes roved eagerly toward thetable, already laid with a bountiful repast.

  “I know he’s hungry,” exclaimed Mrs. Speedwell. “Let him wash his faceand hands, Daniel, and sit down at once.”

  The strange boy could do that. Carrie brought a bottle of antiseptic andlittle ’Dolph stood by and watched the stranger in childish curiosity.In a few moments Billy and their father came in, and then all sat downto the table.

  The visitor was undeniably hungry. Adolph could scarcely eat his ownsupper he was so greatly interested in seeing the unknown youth “mowaway” the heaping plateful good-natured Mr. Speedwell put before him.

  “Why!” declared Mrs. Speedwell, “that young fellow was pretty nearstarved. And he’s only a boy, too! What can his folks be thinking of——?”

  The visitor looked at her, smiled, and nodded. He tried to saysomething, too, but it was such a jumble of sounds that they all lookedamazed, and even the boys’ father shook his head.

  “That certainly beats _me_!” he exclaimed. “What do you think he means,Mother?”

  “I am sure I do not know. But we must find out about him. He ought notto be wandering around alone.”

  “On a night like this, too!” from Dan.

  “Oh, we’ll put him up,” said Billy, quickly. “Won’t we, Mom?”

  “Surely, my son,” agreed his mother.

  “Maybe he is some kind of a foreigner,” said Carrie, the boys’ sister.

  “Sounds more like hog-Latin,” chuckled Billy, to his brother.

  “Sh! he can understand English well enough, even if he doesn’t speak itplainly,” said the older boy.

  “Guess you are right there,” agreed Billy.

  The entire family was deeply interested in the youth. He had been hungryindeed; and when supper was finished he appeared sleepy, too.

  “No knowing how far he had tramped in the snow and storm before you boysran across him,” Mr. Speedwell observed.

  “We didn’t exactly run across him,” Billy said, with a chuckle. “But wecome pretty near it, Dad. Too near for comfort.”

  At any rate, Mrs. Speedwell and Carrie prepared a room for the stranger.He had a suit o
f Dan’s pajamas to sleep in, and little ’Dolph had becomeso friendly with him that he insisted on the visitor’s taking to bedwith him one of Adolph’s newest and most precious toys—an air-gun.

  The visitor retired after saying something that must have been agrateful response to Mrs. Speedwell’s kindliness.

  “By gracious!” exclaimed Mr. Speedwell, slapping his knee, “that surelysounds like English—only he mumbles it so. Sounds just as though he weretongue-tied.”

  “He surely isn’t dumb,” agreed Dan.

  “Not at all,” Billy added. “But I never heard anybody as tongue-tied asall _that_.”

  The Speedwells were not late to bed—especially on such a night as this.The wind howled and the snow continued until midnight; but when thealarm clock awoke Billy and Dan in their room at two o’clock, the stormhad ceased and a faint strip of moon was struggling amidst the breakingclouds.

  The snow was not too deep for the auto-truck, although the brotherscould not get over their long route as quickly as usual. School was insession and Dan and Billy put in full time every school day, in spite ofthe milk delivery.

  They were spinning out the river road towards Colonel Sudds’s place,beyond the Darringford Machine Shops, about half past seven, with only afew more customers to deliver to, when Billy caught sight of somethingon the river that interested him immensely.

  “Look at that flyer, Dan!” he cried. “Iceboat, sure as you are an inchhigh!”

  “I’m several feet more than an inch tall, Billy,” chuckled his brother,“so that _must_ be an iceboat and no hallucination.”

  “Don’t pull any of the ‘high brow stuff,’ as Biff Hardy calls it,”returned slangy Billy Speedwell. “And tell me, pray, who owns an iceboataround Riverdale?”

  “I didn’t even suppose the ice was thick enough to bear a boat,”returned Dan, who was quite as surprised at the appearance of theswooping craft as his brother.

  The river bank fell abruptly from the edge of the road. Dan had broughtthe truck to a halt, for both boys were immensely interested.

  Anything that flew like that craft on the ice below, was bound to holdthe attention of the brothers. They were well named, their chums at theRiverdale Academy declared. Billy Speedwell had never yet traveled fastenough to suit him, and Dan was just as much of a “speed maniac.”

  However, Dan’s natural caution usually kept the brothers from recklessracing of any kind; but they had won prizes and made records with theirmotorcycles, racing car, and motorboat.

  Now they stared hard at the craft flying down the river toward thebuildings belonging to the Colasha Boat Club. The ice was firm inpatches, but from this height the Speedwells could see that there wereopen strips of water, yards in width.

  The tides did not affect the river much so far from its mouth; yet therewas some brine in it and despite the severe cold of the last few days,the ice was not entirely safe.

  “Two fellows in her,” announced Billy.

  “I see ’em.”

  “And just as reckless as they can be. See there! Don’t they see thatchannel ahead? My goodness, Dan! It’s fifty feet wide if it is a foot!”

  “You’re right, Billy; they’re going to have a spill!”

  “Worse than that,” cried the younger brother, and he hopped out of hisseat. “Come on, Dan! there’s going to be something doing down there inanother minute. We’re going to be needed——”

  He halted in his speech, for at that very moment the skimming iceboatshot over the edge of the firm ice, its runners cut through theshell-like crystal beyond, and the heavy body of the boat splashed intothe open water.

  Its momentum carried it far; but only the front runner hit the ice onthe other side of the open channel. The runner slipped under the firmice, and the careening boat stopped. With a crash heard plainly up onthe highroad, the mast went by the board, and the craft and itspassengers disappeared under the falling canvas.

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