Produced by Richard Halsey
OWEN CLANCY'S HAPPY TRAIL;Or, THE MOTOR WIZARD IN CALIFORNIA.
By BURT L. STANDISH.
CHAPTER I.
ALMOST A RIOT.
No, it was not an earthquake that happened in the city of Los Angeles,California, on that beautiful sun-shiny morning. It was just atow-headed, cross-eyed youth shaking things up at the corner of Sixthand Main in an attempt to find his father.
And not one corner of the cross streets was involved, but all fourcorners. The upheaval that followed this search for a missing relative,extended in several directions, so that a very small cause led up toremarkably large results.
It was nine o'clock of a Saturday morning. That Saturday was some sortof a festal day for the Chinese, and at the hour mentioned, a dragon ablock long, consisting of a hundred Celestials covered withpapier-mache, was twisting and writhing along Sixth Street.
On one corner, leaning against the side of a building, was a tall man inseedy clothes. A card on his breast bore the sad legend, "Help theBlind." The man's eyes were covered with large blue goggles, and in onehand he held his hat, and in the other a couple of dozen cheap leadpencils.
Across the street, on corner number two, was an Italian with a handorgan. The Italian's assistant was a monkey in a red cap.
Corner number three, among others, held a grocer's boy, carrying abasket with six dozens of eggs. He was very much absorbed in watchingthe Chinese dragon wriggle along the thoroughfare.
The fourth corner was reserved for Hiram Hill, the tow-headed,cross-eyed chap who was destined to cause all the commotion. While Hillstood on the walk, telling himself that the gaudily painted dragonlooked very much like an overgrown centipede, he suddenly caught sightof a man in an automobile.
The auto was headed along Main Street, and was waiting for the dragon toclear the way so it could proceed. Hill looked at the machine across thepapier-mache spine of the chink monster, and he gave a yell of surprisewhen his gaze took account of the one man in the tonneau of the car.
Undoubtedly that man was Hiram Hill's father--the parent who had beenmysteriously missing ever since the first Klondike gold rush! Hiram'seyes were sharp, and to them the beetling brow, the one "squint eye,"the very pronounced Roman nose, and the retreating chin which made theface resemble a bird's beak, were all very plain.
After that first yell of surprise, Hiram's astonishing good luck heldhim speechless. Following a year of a trying town-to-town canvas of thewhole Southwest, he had at last come within hailing distance of hislong-lost parent.
Only one point remained to make assurance doubly sure. Had the "suspect"a brown mole on the back of his neck? Sharp as Hill's eyes were, theycould not determine that.
"Who wants a pencil?" came feebly from the hapless person on the firstcorner. "Help the blind."
"Jocko," said the son of sunny Italy, on corner two, "maka da bow, takada mon!"
The monkey lifted his hat and went through motions that passed for abow. He also looked at his master and showed his teeth, not relishingthe way his chain had been pulled.
"Pipe de chink wid de pigeon toes and de bow legs!" yelped the grocer'sboy. "If he's goin' de way dem feet are pointed, foist t'ing yous knowhe'll be runnin' into himself."
The boy with the basket of eggs was very observing. As he shouted hisremarks he leveled a finger at a pair of coolie legs supporting one ofthe vertebra of the passing dragon. The legs were badly sprung at theknees, but they ended in feet which the Chinaman had to step over as hewalked.
"Dad!" whooped Hiram Hill; "I say, dad!"
Hiram recovered his speech, and all at once became as active as a swarmof bees after some one has kicked over the hive. He wanted to get tothat automobile and give his father a filial embrace--and he was in ahurry. The Chinese dragon was in the way, but Hiram didn't mind a littlething like that.
He jumped at the papier-mache thing and hit it in the vicinity of thebow-legged Chinaman. That particular chink went down, and the dragon wasbroken squarely in two, midway of its length.
Now, a papier-mache dragon is a sort of a blind-follow-my-leader affair.The Chinaman at the head is the only one in the procession who can seewhere he is going, and the remaining sections of the monster hang ontohim and follow his lead.
The rear half of the dragon got lost, and went groping wildly for thefront half. Somehow or other, it ran into the crowd on the corner, andthere was a mix-up in which three dollars worth of eggs were badlyscrambled.
The last section of the front half, missing the part behind, beganswinging back and forth across the street in an attempt to find the losttail. It carromed into corner number two, smashing one perfectly goodhand organ, freeing an excited monkey, and drawing forth a volley oflurid words from the Italian.
Jocko ran across the street, and began climbing the tall man who wasselling lead pencils. With a roar of consternation, the tall man rushedinto the street, flourishing his arms, and begging some one--any one--to"Take it away! Take it away!" He finally collided with the head end ofthe dragon, demoralizing that half of the chink procession as completelyas the latter half had been.
By that time; Sixth and Main was in a turmoil. The dragon had broken upin a hundred parts, like a jointed snake, and each part was thrashingaround blindly, trying to get rid of its papier-mache so it could seewhere it was and what it was doing.
From the four corners the crowd flowed into the street. Eggs, entirelywhole or only slightly cracked, flew from mischievous hands over heavingheads, only to smash against some particularly inviting mark.
The monkey leaped from one pair of shoulders to another, chatteringwildly. In course of time, he reached the automobile, landed in a heapon the bosom of the beetle-browed, Roman-nosed passenger in the tonneau,and encircling him with his hairy arms. The beetle-browed man got up andfought for his freedom, clamoring furiously for "Police! Police!"
Just at that moment, the only policeman in that vicinity was at thepatrol box, sending in a riot call. Meanwhile, Hiram Hill was having hisown share of troubles.
The bow-legged Chinaman had slipped out of his papier-mache shell. Hedid not know, of course, that Hill was the one who had knocked hissection of the dragon out of line, but the instant he was able to lookaround, he saw Hill, and immediately selected him as a suitable objectfor hostility.
The chink did not step on himself, nor in any way interfere with hisprogress in going for Hiram. He hit Hiram so hard over the head with thepiece of dragon that he knocked a hole in the papier-mache, and, just asHiram freed himself of the encumbrance, and straightened up to get hisbearings and swoop down on his assailant, an egg smashed in his face andeffectually blinded him.
A hollow murmur sounded in Hiram's ears, like the roar of the sea. Hewas picked up on the troubled waters of the melee, and borne back andforth in the surging tide. At last he slammed into something and fell,limp and dazed, to the ground.
He drew his sleeve across his eyes, thus freeing them for clearervision. To his joy and wonder, he found that destiny had hurled himagainst the side of the automobile he had been trying to reach.
Jocko had jumped from the shoulders of the passenger in the tonneau, andthe passenger was still on his feet and had his back toward Hiram. Thelatter, boiling over with filial sentiments, climbed up on the runningboard and encircled the beetle-browed man in a fond embrace.
"Dad!" clamored Hiram excitedly; "don't you know me?"
"Get off! get off!" roared the man, going at once into a flurry. "Whosemonkey is this, anyway? Police! Police!"
The man, naturally, was in a highly excited state of mind and
thoughtthe simian was upon him again. Just then, the driver of the machinefound a cleared space ahead and started for it. He started so quicklythat Hiram was thrown from the running board, dropped to the hardpavement, and there stumbled against and fallen over by the jostlingmob.
This rough usage was more than Hiram could stand. The senses were beingknocked out of him by swift degrees. He felt his wits going, and he madea frantic attempt to stay them as they drifted away. The attempt wasuseless, however, and a great darkness suddenly descended upon Hiram andclosed him in.
When he regained his senses, he was lying on a bench in a drug store. Aclerk was holding a handkerchief, saturated with a drug of some kind, tohis nostrils, and a bluecoat was standing near, twirling his club andlooking down at Hiram speculatively.
"Question is," said the policeman, "what is he doing with two hats?"
"That's more than I can