CHAPTER VIII
A CLOSE SHAVE
Mrs. Layton uttered a scream, and the others looked at each other asecond with blank faces. Then they jumped out and surrounded theunfortunate driver, who was gazing at his injured arm in a dazedfashion. Mr. Layton made a quick examination, and pronounced that thewrist was badly sprained. Fortunately, they had a complete medicaloutfit in one of the cars, including splints, and Mr. Layton contrivedto bind up the injured wrist after a fashion, and then suspended thearm in a sling.
"But who's going to drive the car?" asked the uninjured chauffeur,after this operation had been completed. "If none of you people knowshow to drive, we're in a pretty bad fix."
"I'll drive," volunteered Bob. "You lead the way, and I guess I'llmanage to keep near you."
"Are you sure you can do it, Bob?" questioned his father, anxiously.He had great faith in his son's ability, and liked to have the ladtake a certain amount of responsibility.
"Sure, Dad. Watch and see," was the quick answer.
"I don't know about this," said the chauffeur, with the professional'sdistrust of the amateur. "We could all pack in one car in a pinch, youknow, and leave the other here."
"But that would so overload one car that we'd have very little chanceof getting there without a breakdown," argued Bob. "Don't worry aboutmy driving. I'll manage somehow."
"I'll bet you will," said Joe. "You'll have to move lively to keepfrom being run over," he told the driver.
"Quit your kiddin'," said the chauffeur, unbelievingly. "We'll have tohit the high spots from now on, and it ain't goin' to be an easy jobholdin' those boilers on the road."
Somewhat against his mother's will, Bob cranked the motor of the carhe was to drive, but took care to see that the spark was fullyretarded, in consequence of which he started the engine without anytrouble. The injured driver occupied the other half of the driver'sseat, so as to give Bob pointers in handling the car if they wereneeded.
But he soon found that Bob required very little of his advice. It wassome time since he had driven a car, and at first he was a little slowat gear shifting, but soon got the "feel" of that particular car andfrom then on shifted with the ease and deft certainty of an expert. Asa matter of fact, Bob possessed the knack of handling machinery,without which no one can really claim to be a good driver.
The injured driver was not long in recognizing this. Shortly afterthey had reached the main road and were once more headed for theirdestination, they encountered a steep grade, something over a mile inlength. Both cars were going at a fair speed when they felt the firsttug of gravity, but so sharp was the grade that they lost way rapidly,and it became necessary to shift into a lower speed. Bob did not waituntil they had slowed down too much. With a quick shove he disengagedthe clutch, shifted into neutral, and then dropped the clutch into theengagement, at the same time accelerating the engine momentarily. Thiscauses the idle gears on the jack-shaft to revolve, after which it iscomparatively easy to mesh the intermediate gear combination. Bob hadno difficulty in doing this, and with his gears properly engaged, helet in the clutch again and stepped on the accelerator. The car surgedforward, ploughing through the snow and skidding from side to side asit fought its way up the steep gradient.
In a few moments they caught up with the leading car, which was indifficulties. Its driver had waited too long before attempting toshift, and the car had slowed down so much by the time he got intointermediate that it would not pick up even in that speed, and he wasforced to shift into low.
"I'll bet that young feller that's driving Jim's car is stalledsomewhere at the bottom of this hill," he thought. "Hope I don't haveto wait too long for him after I reach the top. This road is no placefor an amateur to drive, anyway. I----"
Honk! Honk! The raucous note of Bob's horn broke in upon his thoughts,and he glanced, startled, through the rear windows, to see the othercar looming through the drifting storm.
Too late he tried frantically to speed up and avoid the humiliation ofbeing passed by one whom he condescendingly termed an amateur.Resistless as fate the pursuing car drew abreast, and then went onpast in a cloud of fine snow kicked up by the spinning rear wheels. Hemuttered morosely to himself as he caught a glimpse of grinning facesthrough the dim windows of the storm curtains, but was conscious of afeeling of admiration, too, for the daring young driver.
"Say, son, I've got to hand it to you!" exclaimed Jim, the injuredchauffeur. "You know how to handle a car with the best of 'em."
"Oh, I didn't care so much about passing him, but I didn't want toslow down," explained Bob, never for an instant taking his eyes fromthe road. "It's against my principles to put on brakes when I'm goingup a hill."
"I figure the same way myself," admitted the other. "Now that we'reahead, we might as well stay ahead. I'll tell you which way to turn,an' I guess between us we'll get through all right."
But many miles still lay between them and their destination, and thestorm showed no sign of abating. Softly, silently, but implacably thewhite flakes continued to pile up that clinging carpet over the roaduntil driving became more a matter of guesswork and instinct thananything else. For a time the injured chauffeur gave Bob directionsand advice, but at length he came to the conclusion that this boybehind the wheel was very capable of doing the right thing in theright place, and he sat silent, gripping the seat and pressing onimaginary pedals when they got in tight places.
They were making good progress, considering the adverse conditions,and were within perhaps ten miles of their destination when suddenly,through the whirling snow, Bob glimpsed another car swinging into themain road not fifteen feet from him. Both cars were going at a fastspeed, but the drivers caught sight of each other at almost the sameinstant, and both jammed on their brakes. The cars swayed and skidded,and the occupants of both started from their seats, believing acollision inevitable. Nothing could have averted this had not Bob,quick as lightning, wrenched his wheel around, bringing his car into acourse almost parallel with the other. For a few brief seconds theoutcome lay in the hand of fate. When the two cars finally came to ajarring halt, they were side by side, with not six inches betweentheir running boards.
The door of the other car, which was a sedan, burst open, and a small,red-faced and white-haired man leaped out and shook a belligerent fistat Bob.
"What do you mean by driving that car at such a rate of speed?" heshrilled. "You were breaking every speed law there is, young man, andI'll make you sorry for it, or my name isn't Gilbert Salper."
"But your car was going faster than ours, and there isn't any damagedone, anyway," Bob pointed out, as he wriggled from behind the wheeland descended to the road.
"No damage done?" echoed the other, waving his hands excitedly. "Youalmost scared my wife and daughters into fits, and yet you have thenerve to stand there and tell me there is no damage done. What do youmean by it?"
Before Bob could make an indignant reply, a lady wrapped in costlyfurs stepped from the sedan and laid a soothing hand on the irate oldgentleman's shoulder.
"I'm sure it wasn't the young man's fault, Gilbert," she said, in apleasant voice. "Indeed, I think it was his quick action thatprevented a collision. Jules was at fault in coming on to the mainroad without slowing down or blowing his horn."
"They were both going too fast, I say!" insisted her husband. "But Isuppose we ought to be thankful that we are still alive, afterundertaking such a fool trip. Next time we'll do what I want and stayat home."
The gentleman fumed and fussed a little longer, but at length his wifeand daughters succeeded in enticing him back into his car. The latterwere both unusually pretty girls, and as they coaxed their father backinto good humor, Joe, who was in the car driven by Bob, whispered thathe hoped they were also bound for the Mountain Rest Hotel.
Mr. Salper was a wealthy Wall Street broker, whose pocketbook was muchlonger than his temper. Although irascible and prone to "fly off thehandle" at the slightest provocation, he was at bottom a kindly man,and one who would do any
thing for those he cared for. Like manyothers, his health had suffered in the process of money making, andhis physician had ordered him to give up business for a month or twoand rest.
The broker owned a house not far from the big hotel at Mountain Pass,and the family frequently came to the place, both in the winter andthe summer. They were well known at the hotel itself for they oftenran over to take meals there and to visit with some of the patrons.
By the time his daughters had succeeded in calming the broker'sexcitement, the second car of the Layton party came up, and it wasdecided that the three cars should keep close together for the rest ofthe journey, in order to render mutual aid if it should be needed. Thesnow had attained a depth of six or eight inches by this time, and itwas only with the greatest difficulty that they even managed to startagain. But finally they got straightened out and resumed their buckingof the hills and snow.