Boy Scout Fire Fighters

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE DAY OF THE BIG RACE

  Bang--bang-bankety-bang-bang-bang! The ten scouts bounded out of bed atonce. All were wide eyed with excitement and wonder.

  "What the dickens! An earthquake!" demanded Bud Weir.

  Jiminy Gordon was the first one to the window.

  "Gee whiz, look at him go!"

  "Look at who--what?"

  "Why that was one of the racing cars," said Jiminy. "They are tuning upfor the big races to-day. Guess it was a foreign car from the racket itmade. All the mufflers off. Couldn't make out just which car it wasthough. Going so fast it looked just like a gray streak. I--"

  "Bnr-r-r-r-r bumpety-boom-boom-boom-b a n g bang-bang!"

  "Whoopee-e-e, here's another one," screamed Jiminy.

  The ten scouts rushed to the front door of the building, ignoring thefact that they were clad only in pajamas and night shirts, and waved tothe passing racer.

  "Cracky, look at him tear up the beach," exclaimed Bruce.

  "Rather early in the morning to risk one's neck, eh? It's only fouro'clock. Guess they are doing their last tuning up before the eventsstart," said Jiminy.

  "Say, how do they race?" asked fat Babe Wilson. "Do they line 'em uplike a lot of sprinters and start 'em when a pistol is fired?"

  "Well, they may do some match racing tomorrow, but to-day I think theywill hold their time trials. They will race to see who can make the besttime over the course," said Jiminy.

  "How fast can they go?" asked Ray Martin.

  "Oh, they can make a mile in half a minute. The world's record for amile is twenty-five and one-half seconds," said Gordon, who was more orless of an authority on automobiles among the members of the QuarryTroop.

  "Gee Whizz! Say what can they make fifteen miles in? How long will ittake 'em to go the full length of the beach?" asked Bruce.

  "Well, the world's record for fifteen miles is just ten minutes flat.That's an old record and Dan Dacy says he's going to smash it tosmithereens to-day. Hope he does. Say, fellows, what do you say togoing down and looking over the garages before breakfast?"

  "Fine, let's get some clothes on and we'll start right away," saidRomper.

  Dressing was only a matter of a few minutes and presently the troop wason its way down the boardwalk toward the point where the series ofgreen-peaked roofs located the garages of the speed maniacs. Although itwas not yet five o'clock in the morning there were scores of people onthe board walk all headed in the same direction.

  "Say, this is going to be a big day all right," said Ray Martin, as henoted the enthusiasm that prevailed.

  "Right-o, just look at the crowd down there at the garages already thismorning," said Bruce.

  About each of the low houses were grouped dozens of curiosity seekers.The scouts soon joined the throng and began to inspect the quarters ofthe races. Each garage contained a big sullen looking car about whichwas grouped half a dozen mechanics. These men were tinkering here,tightening a bolt there, or wiping and polishing the great machines as ifthey were so many sacred elephants. Mechanical parts, pumps, jacks,boxes of tools, cans of oil, extra tires and wheels, cushions andinnumerable odds and ends were scattered about each building andeverybody seemed to be keyed up to an extreme nervous pitch. On everyside could be heard remarks about the cars and drivers, their records andtheir chances for winning the various events.

  The excitement was infectious and before they realized it the scouts wereas thoroughly interested as every one else. They began to talkautomobiles to all with whom they came in contact and soon picked up agreat deal of information about the notables who were to take part in theraces.

  "Say, Bruce," said Jiminy Gordon suddenly, "there's Dan Dacy. See him.That big, tall, light-haired fellow down there. I've seen his picture somany times that I almost feel as if know him. Come on, we'll go down andsee his machine. That must be his garage--yes, it is. See the sign overthe door. Vix-Benson, it says. That's the car he's going to drive."

  The scouts followed Jiminy and Bruce and soon found themselves part of avery large crowd gathered about the famous driver's headquarters. Dacywas the favorite American in the race and since he was to operate one ofthe best known American cars everybody was enthusiastic to see him carryoff the honors of the event in which he was entered. He was standing bythe door of his garage watching his attendants tinker with his machine,when the scouts came up. The lads pushed their way through the crowd toreach the rope railing about the entrance to the garage, and when thetall racer saw them, he smiled and waved his hand.

  "How are you, Scouts?" he said good-naturedly. Then without waiting foran answer he came over to the rope.

  "Where are you fellows from?" he demanded.

  "Woodbridge, Vermont, sir," said Bruce.

  "Woodbridge, Vermont? Well, you came a long way to see the races, didn'tyou?" he said, a boyish smile playing about the corners of his mouth.

  "Well, not exactly. You see we are here on business. That is, we'vebeen hired as life guards at Old Harbor. We're going to patrol the beachfor the rest of the Summer.

  "Oh-ho, so you are the chaps Mr. Herrick was telling me about--havemotorcycles and all that sort of rigging, eh? Say, boys, that's a greatscheme. I saw the original motor cycle life guards work out inCalifornia last year, and they're great, too. Hope you have luck." Thenafter shaking hands with Bruce and Jiminy and two or three other scouts,he turned and entered the garage, for one of his mechanics had calledhim.

  And although Dan Dacy did not realize it, this spirit of democracy hadwon him ten thoroughly capable rooters, for the scouts were more thanpleased with his friendship.

  "Say isn't he a corking fine chap," exclaimed Bruce.

  "I should say he was; a regular pippin' I'd call him," said Jiminystoutly. And he looked at his companions as if he dared any one of themto deny it.

  The crowd about the garage was growing to tremendous proportions, and itwas all that the scouts could do to extricate themselves. When theyfinally reached the open beach again, Bruce looked at his watch.

  "Say, fellows, it's getting late," he exclaimed; "it's six o'clock and wehaven't had any breakfast. I think we will have to hustle over to thehotel if we want to get back to quarters and have a drill before theraces start."

  "Right-o," exclaimed Babe Wilson, "I know it's getting late because mystomach feels all shriveled up for want of something to eat."

  "Huh, that stomach of yours," said Jiminy Gordon in disgust, as he took alingering look toward the garages. A moment later he fell in line withthe rest of the lads, who started up the board walk toward the hotel.

  On their way back the scouts paid a brief visit to the north station, butthey all returned to Bruce's domain at half-past seven, for the northstation crew was rather eager to stay in the vicinity of the lowerstation for a better view of the races. Then, too, they had decided thenight before that it would be well for all of them to practice theirfirst aid work together.

  There was very little need for the lookouts to man their tower duringthis practice work, for they needed no drilling since all of theirsignaling would be done with signal flags and the semaphore signal codewhich is part of the examination for all second class scouts.

  That being the case, Bruce decided that all of the lads would devote themorning to operating the pulmotor, while the four life savers madefrequent plunges into the surf so as to become accustomed to swimmingwith the aid of the buoy. One after another the lads operated thepulmotor upon a supposed victim until each had learned the proper methodof adjusting and strapping fast the mouthpiece, and which screws to turnto start and stop the oxygen pump. An hour of this practice work wasquite sufficient, and when it was finished Bruce and Jiminy and Bud andRomper, turn about, took the motor cycle for short dashes up the beachand indulged in a mock rescue At ten o'clock the drilling was stopped,for the racing automobiles began to appear on the beach in finalpreparation for the races which were scheduled to start at eleven.
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  "Say, fellows, that rescue work is some fun," said Jiminy Gordon, as heemerged from the surf for the last time and came toward the station.

  "You bet it is," said Bruce, as he shut off the power of the motorcycleand wheeled the machine into its quarters.

  "And the water is just snappy enough to feel good, too. You know, Ithink I'll stay in my bathing suit all day, even though there won't beany bathers to rescue. I want to get tanned up right away," addedJiminy.

  "Good idea," exclaimed several, with enthusiasm, and forthwith they alldonned the special maroon bathing suits that Mr. Herrick had provided forhis life guards. But it is hard to tell whether it was the desire toacquire a good coat of tan or the opportunity afforded them to displaytheir rather pretentious bathing suits, that moved them to take thisstep. However, fifteen minutes later, a group of ten uniformed and moreor less self-conscious beach guards were sunning themselves in front ofthe south station in full view of the thousands of people who weregathering on the board walk to view the races.

  By eleven o'clock the crowd had increased to a veritable horde.Thousands lined the board walk from the garages to the finish line andhundreds of automobiles were parked in every roadway. Special guards,composed of the local troop of boy scouts with their staffs and a troopof militia from Portland had been detailed to keep the sightseers orderlyand in position on the board walk. They were all having their hands fullaccomplishing the task, however, for the automobile enthusiasts began toget restless as the time for the start of the races drew near.

  At five minutes after eleven the band on the recreation pier, which hadbeen blaring forth popular airs for an hour, ceased, and a moment laterthe judges made their appearance on the beach. This was a signal forprolonged cheering on the part of the crowd. But the noise stopped Whena single individual carrying a black and white flag stepped out into thecourse and began wigwagging. He was signaling to another individual atthe garages, who in turn transmitted his signal to the starting line inthe dim distance down the beach.

  "That means everything is ready. The first car will start in a moment,"said Jiminy Gordon nervously.

  Every one was gazing down the beach, where a tiny black blotch on thesand marked the dozen or more racing cars held ready for the start. Thenwhen every one was waiting tense and silent--boom! came the muffled echoof the starting gun. --They're off! cried the crowd, and far, far downthe beach the scouts could see the tiniest black speck coming towardthem. Soon they heard a curious far-off drone which developed quicklyinto a grumble, then into a fusillade of loud bangs as the racing carapproached. The scouts were all on their feet now, nervous andexpectant.

  "Osterhout, the German," cried the spectators, as the long, low racerdrew near.

  Then almost before the scouts could wink, it had roared past, its hoodenveloped in blue flames and its driver bending low over the steeringgear.

  "Gee whiz!" was all that the amazed scouts could say when the big carroared across the line.

  A brief but tense silence followed the finish of the run, for the crowdwaited while the judges, by means of an elaborate system of telephonecommunicated with the starters, fixed the time. Presently, however, thehuge scoreboard on the recreation pier displayed: Osterhout, two minutes34 seconds. This announcement was greeted by a roar, for the German hadequaled the world record for five miles.

  "Cracky," cried Jimmy Gordon, "Dan Dacy will have to go some to beatthat. Just think, if Osterhout had been one-fifth of a second fasterhe'd have smashed the world's record. Gosh, I wish--"

  Boom! Here comes another one!

  Silence reigned in the vast crowd again and every eye followed the blackspeck. "Du Blon," guessed some; "St. Clare," said others; "Wolverton,"asserted several enthusiasts.

  But before the big racer had traveled half of the course the hum of itsengines ceased and the black speck gradually came to a halt. Wolvertonit proved to be and his car had developed engine trouble. The Staffordcar was out of the race.

  St. Clare and Du Blon followed in quick cession, each of them drivingtheir madly flying vehicles to the limit of endurance, but each fellbehind Osterhout's mark by several seconds. McCalkin, the ruddy-facedIrish driver, was the next sensation. His was the smallest car of therace in point of length. Indeed, it looked as if it had collided with atelegraph pole and lost most of its hood. But under that snub nose wereconcealed six perfectly good cylinders that spat fire all the way downthe course and shot the car over the finish line two seconds better thanthe world's record. What a roar of applause greeted the boyish driverwhen the figures were displayed! Even the scouts forgot for a momentthat they were rooting exclusively for Dan Dacy and burst forth in aringing cheer.

  But presently their attention was diverted from this achievement, forword was passed from the judges' stand that Dan Dacy with his Vix-Bensonwas the next contestant.

  "Dan Dacy next!" was the word that passed from mouth to mouth through thecrowd. Every one was a-tip-toe with excitement. All eyes were strainedon the starting line.

  "Gee, I hope he comes through with a new record," said Bruce anxiously.

  "He will," asserted Jiminy Gordon positively.

  Boom! Five thousand pairs of eyes were fastened on the tiny black speckthat detached itself from the black blot far down the beach, and spednorthward. Ten thousand ears were strained to catch the first far-offhum of the motor Dacy was coming. His Vix-Benson was burning up thebeach. Now the scouts caught the buzz of the motor. It grew louder withthe passing of every second. Like a black projectile the car came on,flames from the throbbing cylinders licking about the hood.

  "Dacy! Dacy! Danny Dacy! Make it a new record!" screamed theelectrified crowd while he was yet two miles from the finish line.Unquestionably he was the favorite.

  On came the roaring racer. The car was just a gray blur that hardlyseemed to touch the beach, and begoggled Dan Dacy looked like the hoodedmessenger of death.

  Then with an ear-splitting roar the great machine passed the scouts onthe last mile of the course!

  "By Jiminy, it's a new record or I'll-- Oh mercy! Look! Look! She'llbe killed!"

  The scouts stood transfixed with horror. Up the beach in the very pathof the flying motor stood little May Herrick, clutching a red rubber ballin her hand and looking at the coming machine with horror written inevery line of her childish face.

  The whole situation was clear. The tot had dropped her ball, which hadrolled out onto the sloping beach. With her mind only on rescuing theplaything, she had pulled herself out of her nurse's grasp and run outonto the race course. And then when she found herself in the path ofcertain death she had become panic-stricken.

  Dan Dacy's heart must have leapt to his throat when he saw the little onein his way. But if it did it in no way affected his nerve. He knew thatto turn the steering wheel but an inch meant certain destruction to thecareening car and a broken neck for himself perhaps. Yet he braved thishideous fate and wrenched at the steering gear.

  There was a terrific roar, a crash of shattered metal and in a cloud ofsand the big gray racer turned abruptly and plunged end over end down thebeach into the curling breakers. The crowd gave vent to a shriek ofalarm when they saw Dan Dacy's limp form shoot clear of the wreck and gowhirling, arms and legs flying out toward the point where the comberswere breaking.

  Like every one of the five thousand witnesses of the tragedy, the scoutsstood paralyzed for a moment--but only for a moment--Bruce was the firstto gather his scattered wits.

  "Quick, Jiminy! We'll get him! Come! He may still be alive! The restof you fellows follow on foot!"

  While he was speaking, Bruce rushed into the station and started themotor cycle. Jiminy was right behind him and an instant later thepowerful machine was making forty miles an hour over the sandy beach.Bruce bent low over the handle bars while Jiminy clung on and sought tobuckle the life buoy belt about his waist.

  When the machine reached the wrecked motor car Bruce brought it to anabrupt stop. But
already Jimmy had leaped from the machine and plungedinto the water. With powerful overhand strokes he breasted the breakers.He seemed to shoot through the water, so mighty were his efforts.

  Thirty feet out he saw something bobbing upon the surface of the water.It was Dacy's leather helmet. Toward this Jiminy headed and the waterfairly boiled with the struggle he was making to reach the spot. In afew seconds he was near enough to reach out and grasp the black object.But he let go of it immediately and the next moment he was seen toprepare for a dive under the surface. A few feet away he had seen someair bubbles coming to the top.

  In a jiffy he had unbuckled the life buoy. Then like a seal the litheyoungster sought the dark green depths, following the line of bubbles.Down he swam, deeper and deeper, for on the white, sandy bottom he couldsee a dark, shapeless mass turning round and round with the action of thewater. He reached out to seize it and his lingers slipped from thedriver's leather jacket. Again he tried, and his hand closed about thecold wrist of the unconscious man.

  Then he turned and started to struggle upward, dragging his heavy burdenafter him. It was hard work--terrible work, for he had dived deep and hewas badly in need of air. His lungs felt as if they would burst. Theblood pressure in his neck and head was almost unbearable. At first hecould make no headway. The drowning man seemed to hold fast to thebottom. But he fought hard for he realized that if he let go of Dacy hewould have difficulty in finding him with a second dive. Every momentwas precious, too. There might still be a spark of life in the limp formhe was trying to rescue.

  Up, up, he struggled. Above he could see the light of day. Great greenbubbles raced past him. Only a few feet now. Only a second or twolonger. Thus did he spur himself onward until suddenly his head shotclear of the waves, and, with a-gasp, he filled his tortured lungs withnew air. Ten feet away danced the cigar-shaped float with its life belt,and swimming toward him from the crowded beach were two other scoutsready to help.

  Jimmy summoned every ounce of his remaining strength and held the head ofthe unconscious man above the water. And when the spectators saw that hehad actually made the rescue a cheer louder and longer than any that hadgreeted the racers rent the air.

  It was hard work and Jiminy was at the point of exhaustion, yet he triedhis utmost to buckle the life belt about poor Dacy. But while he fumbledwith the straps the two other scouts arrived and relieved him of thetask. Quickly the belt was adjusted and the sign flashed to Bruce, whoseized the steel cable and hauled away.

  Then the two lads turned their attention to Jiminy and between them aidedhim into shallow water.

  By the time the three swimmers reached the beach the scouts had clearedDacy's lungs of water and had started the pulmotor. For twenty minutesthe lads worked valiantly, doing everything that they could to bring backlife in the unconscious man, while the anxious crowd looked on.

  Finally their efforts were rewarded. Dacy's eyelids quivered severaltimes, then slowly opened, whereat the crowd gave a mad cry of joy andthe scouts had all they could do to keep them from pressing closer.

  But one man did break through the circle of guards and the lads let himpass. He was Mr. Herrick. Tears of joy coursed down his good naturedface when he saw that Dacy was still alive, and before the scouts couldrestrain him he seized the prostrate man's hand and squeezed it while hemurmured:

  "Dacy, Dacy, thank goodness you are still alive. I was afraid you hadsacrificed your life to save that little girl of mine."

  Then turning toward Bruce, he said, "Scouts, I don't know how to thankyou for this. I--"

  "Don't try to thank us, Mr. Herrick," said Bruce, "but you can help usput him onto the side car. I think we should get to a doctor's rightaway, for there may be some broken bones or internal injuries."

  And a few moments later the life guard's motorcycle was carrying itsfirst patient to the emergency hospital.