CHAPTER XXV
THE CAR AND THE CUP
The Breton-Melville car, driven by the Speedwell brothers, was not fortyseconds behind the big maroon automobile at the start. The latter wasperhaps five hundred yards ahead; but she never gained on the Speedwellsa yard during the run that followed.
Olin City was somewhere about a hundred and eighty miles from the spotwhere the Greenbaugh Seminary boys had obstructed the road. The twocars—the maroon and the drab—raced over the highways to Olin City injust four hours.
Just before reaching Olin City the two flying autos passed a machinethat had suffered a blow-out. It was number seven. Chance and BurtonPoole were out of the car working as rapidly as they could to adjust anew tire.
Billy had something else to think of, and he did not even yell atChance. The fact that they had passed number seven, after all Chance haddone to try and retard them, was a small matter now.
The three desperate criminals ahead must be apprehended. They came tothe Olin City line and the maroon car still kept on with but slightlyreduced speed. The first policeman they saw held up a warning hand tothem. Then he leaped into the middle of the road as Dan and Billy roareddown upon him.
“Get him aboard—quick, Dan!” advised the younger brother. “Then we’llsee if we can’t overtake those scoundrels.”
Dan was already shutting down. The car had not quite stopped when thepolice officer leaped aboard.
“Say, you boys! We’ll have to stop you if you can’t obey the law,”declared the officer.
“How about that car ahead?” demanded Dan.
“They got away from me.”
“We can catch it for you, if you say so,” said Billy, grinning. “And itwill be a great catch, too. Those fellows, I believe, robbed thepostoffice at Farmingdale night before last.”
“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed the policeman.
“Indeed I do,” said Dan, earnestly. “At least, my brother and I arepositive that they are the men who robbed the Farmers’ Bank of Riverdaleand committed another robbery in that town.”
“The motor car thieves!” exclaimed the policeman. “You don’t mean it?”
“We do. We’re sure of it.”
“Wait! Let those two other men get aboard,” said the officer, beckoningto two brother officers standing on the corner. When the men had hoppedinto the tonneau, the first officer said:
“Now let her go. If you can catch that big car, do it. Never mind thelaw—smash it to flinders!”
The maroon automobile had slowed down a good bit. The criminals were notdesirous of getting arrested for breaking the speed law. And when Danbrought his car close up behind the maroon painted machine, and thebiggest policeman leaped into the thieves’ car, the latter believed theywere arrested merely for an infringement of the city ordinance.
“We will fix this up all right with the judge, officer,” said the leaderof the gang. “The court is sitting—yes?”
“I reckon so,” said the cop. “But we’ll run over to the chief’s officefirst. I shouldn’t be surprised if _he’d_ like to see you.”
The three criminals exchanged glances. They might have shown fight thereon the public street, but Dan steered his machine around the maroon carand headed it off. The chauffeur had to stop. The three officers eachseized their man and—the arrest was made!
It then became necessary for the boys to go to the office of the chiefof police, too. The delay was considerable, but after hearing the storyof the Speedwells the commander of the Olin City police force workedquickly.
He called up the Riverdale Bank over the long distance ’phone and Mr.Crawley and Mr. Baird went sponsor for the Speedwell brothers. They weretherefore allowed to depart, for the criminals would have to beextradited from this state to the one in which the first crime had beencommitted.
Burton Poole’s car—and others—had gotten ahead of the Speedwell boys bythis time and they had but an hour more to run that day. They whirledout of Olin City, however, in a cloud of dust and made BreckenridgeStation, thirty-two miles on the road, in that hour.
When they registered with the timekeeper in Breckenridge they were sevenhundred and forty-nine miles over the course. There were two hundred andfifty-nine miles between them and the Compton Motordrome.
“And the worst of the running yet to come,” said Dan. “How many cars didhe say were ahead of us?”
“Thirteen have gone on, having from fifteen minutes to two hours to runon to-day’s record. And here comes a slew of them up the street,” saidBilly.
Indeed, there was a larger number of cars in Breckenridge that nightthan there had been at Greenbaugh at the end of the previous day’s run.
In the morning the cars had to be started ten minutes apart as they wereat the beginning of the endurance test. And it was raining—a fine,penetrating drizzle—that made the traveling most unpleasant. The wheelsskidded, too, and the best car in the race could not make time over theslushy roads.
Besides, the second climb of the mountain chain was just ahead. TheSpeedwells struck it an hour before noon. Half way up the steep ascentthey passed number seven—stuck in the muddy ruts. Chance and Burton werefloundering around, trying to pry out their heavy car.
“This isn’t any fun!” shouted Poole, recognizing the Speedwells. “Buthow did you manage to catch up to us again?”
“We never would have escaped Chance Avery’s friends outside ofGreenbaugh if he’d had his way!” cried Billy in reply. “But now I tellyou what it is, Burton: It looks to me as though we were seeing you forthe last time in this race. Fare thee well!” he added with a mockingsmile.
“You’d better not crow too loud, youngster,” growled Dan. “We don’t knowwhat may happen to us yet.”
But nothing could convince Billy now that they hadn’t got Poole’s carbeaten. Their own lighter machine worked much better on the heavy road.
There were ten cars in advance of them when the Speedwells reached thepass through the hills and started down the incline which ended at theplain on which Riverdale, Compton, and neighboring towns were built.With seven of these cars they caught up at Lorillord at the end of theirfourth day’s run. They were then seventy-two miles from Compton. Thethree cars ahead were respectively sixty-eight miles, fifty-nine miles,and fifty-six miles from the end of the endurance run.
“If it clears off before morning, we’re beaten,” said Dan, withconfidence. “But our car is a regular mudlark. If it keeps on raining wemay plough through and catch up to all three of those other cars.”
“Suppose they wait till it clears off before they start to-morrow?”suggested Billy.
“If you’ll read your little book you’ll find that isn’t allowed. There’sonly fifteen hours’ recess allowed between the end of one day’s run andthe beginning of another.”
The boys were first up in the morning. The weather bureau reported nohope of a change in the falling weather; but the other autoists at thehotel hesitated to set forth early.
Not so, however, Dan and Billy. They had overhauled their car as usualthe night before. They were well acquainted with the stretch of roadbefore them. At seven o’clock they wheeled out before the hotel, tookthe time from the starter, and whirled away, spraying the mud on eitherside from under their wheels, in a wide fan.
Only one of their rivals was on the road before them, and Dan and Billyraced and passed that car within the first fifteen minutes, and did notsee it again until it reached the Compton Motordrome.
There was one car, however, that kept close on their trail. They heardit frequently and sometimes caught glimpses of it; but it was so faraway that neither Dan nor Billy could identify it. They, however, fearedthis speedy car. Indeed, although they knew now that they would arrivefirst at the end of the run, they were not sure that they would have wonthis glorious race.
It was with fear and trembling that they passed over the line, ran intothe big arena and saw their time marked up on the board: A th
ousand andeight miles in forty-three hours and four minutes.
The car behind them shot into the motordrome and proved to be Mr.Darringford’s.
“I believe I’ve beat you, boys!” he cried, leaping out of his car.
But the time keeper announced his time as forty-three hours, fifteenminutes, twenty-four seconds.
“I declare!” laughed the gentleman, “it will be nothing to brag of, nomatter who wins the gold cup. The weather was against fast runningyesterday and this morning. Here comes another!”
It was number seven. The heavy car rolled in beside the Speedwells’ andcame to a groaning halt. It was nearly shaken to pieces. Chance hadcertainly punished his partner’s auto hard during those last few miles.
But to no purpose. Their time was forty-four hours flat, and there wereseveral cars that beat number seven. Burton came and shook hands warmlywith Dan and Billy, while Chance sneaked away.
“I just found out about what Chance did to you back at Farmingdale,”Burton said. “I want you to know that I had nothing to do with any suchmean business—nor did I know he put his friends at the seminary up toholding you back on the road. Mr. Briggs was at the hotel we stopped atlast night and he had the whole story—and about your capturing the motorcar robbers, too. I hope you’ve won the race. I’d like to have beatenyou if I could have done so fairly; but Chance and I get through witheach other right here and now—believe me!”
It was some time before the uncertainty regarding who had captured therace was over. Finally however, it was shown beyond doubt that theSpeedwell boys were the winners. The nearest car to their record hadmade the distance in forty-three hours, nine and one-half minutes. Amongthe first few cars it had been a remarkably close race.
Dan and Billy went home by train and carried the handsome gold cup withthem. The little speech Mr. Briggs made, praising their pluck, andparticularly their bravery, made the ears of the boys burn. Theircapture of the motor and bank robbers had been printed in the papers andDan and Billy were lionized not a little when they got home.
The Riverdale _Star_ again had a long story in it about them. And theeditor ran a picture of their Breton-Melville car, too. The boys couldhave sold the auto at a fancy price had they so desired.
“I don’t know but we’re foolish not to take the offer,” said Billy. “Wemight get a cheaper car, and own a motor launch beside. And I would loveto have a launch by next spring.”
But one day Mr. Baird, the bank cashier, sent for them. The boys learnedthat the three motor thieves had been convicted of the robbery of thebank, and had received sentences aggregating thirteen years.
“The Farmers’ Bank has put to your joint account, boys, the sum of fivehundred dollars,” the cashier told them. “We do not claim that thatentirely repays you for your work in identifying the robbers and causingtheir arrest. Mr. Crawley and I both feel we are still your debtors,”and he shook the boys’ hands warmly.
This unexpected windfall perhaps explains why our readers who havebecome interested in the adventures of Dan and Billy can follow theirhistory further in the next volume of this series, to be entitled, “TheSpeedwell Boys and Their Power Launch; Or, To the Rescue of theCastaways.”
Dan and Billy remain true to their speedy automobile and to theirbeautiful Flying Feather motorcycles; but they have conquered swiftlocomotion on the land; now they long to try their fortunes on thewater. And having proved themselves to be courageous, industrious andhonorable we may believe thoroughly in their future success.
THE END
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