CHAPTER XXI
THE FIRST TEN HOURS
This road race was much different from the usual test of speed on theopen highway. There were no guards lines, or men with flags at crossroads to warn the unwary drivers of horses, or pedestrians. The cars inthis endurance run had to take all the chances, and suffer the delaysusual to an automobile run in the suburban districts.
The Speedwells in their forty-eight were less than five miles out ofCompton when they passed forty-seven. On the edge of Pachusett, half amile farther on, they found forty-six in the ditch! A big load of haywas overturned across the road, and the hay wagon had lost a wheel.
How this wreck had occurred the Speedwells did not stop to ask. Therewas a crowd of a couple of hundred persons around the scene of thewreck, and it was plain that neither the automobilists nor the farmersneeded any help.
There had been frost enough the night before to make the fields hard,and this was a cloudy day. Dan made up his mind instantly to go aroundthe obstruction. He and Billy got out and removed a section of theroadside fence and steered their drab car out into a turnip field.
Number forty-nine was then in view; but the Speedwells got away quicklyand ran through Pachusett as fast as they dared. Two stern-lookingconstables, with big tin stars on the breasts of their coats, held theirWaterbury watches on number forty-eight as it sung along Main Street;but they evidently could not figure out just how fast the boys weregoing.
It had not rained for some time, and the roads were very dusty inplaces. Where the roadway was lightly built the autos ahead of theSpeedwells had already cut deeply into the surface. It was soon hardtraveling, and the dust and sand sifted over them, and over the car,until they looked like millers.
“This is why the faster we get ahead this first day, and the more carswe put behind us, the better off we will be for the rest of the run,”said Dan.
“I guess so! Lettie Parker hit it right the day we went to Karnac Lake.The best place in a run of this kind is right up ahead,” agreed Billy.
According to the road map there was a splendid piece of macadamizedhighway between Bannister and City Ford, and it was thirty-eight mileslong. It was a piece of road greatly favored by automobilists, and itwas always well traveled. But this run had been so well advertised thatordinary motor car drivers out for pleasure on this stretch of roadwould give the right of way to the racing cars.
It was a wide road and almost level. There was not a bridge or arailroad crossing for the entire thirty-eight miles. When the Speedwellsstruck the head of this piece of highway, Dan slipped out of thechauffeur’s seat, and allowed his brother to get under the wheel.
Billy was eager to feel the throb and jump of the mechanism under hishand. They had stopped a few moments before, too, tried certain bolts,filled the gasoline tank, and “watered her.” Everything seemed as tautas when they rolled out of the Compton Motordrome.
“Now, boy, go to it!” his brother said. “Show them what you can do.”
And Billy was not backward in doing this. He had an ambition to be afast driver and all the conditions were in his favor. Number forty-eightbegan to travel immediately, and soon he had brought her up to suchspeed that—as Dan yelled in his ear—the telegraph poles beside the roadlooked like a picket fence!
They had passed number forty-five before this, and now, in quicksuccession they overtook forty-four, thirty-nine and seventeen—thelatter having been held back by some slight breakage. But this was tooearly in the game to be sure that they had passed these cars for good!
Billy, however, gave his dust to several other cars in the race beforethey traversed that thirty-eight miles of beautiful, hard road. Andtheir time was forty-three minutes!
“Good boy!” cried Dan, as they slowed down to a twelve-mile speed asthey struck the head of Market Street in City Ford. “We have run ahundred and five miles and our time is three hours and ten minutes.”
“Why, at this rate,” cried Billy, “we’ll be able to get beyond the HollyTree Inn to-night. Don’t you think so?”
“I have my doubts about it,” said Dan. “There is no other piece of roadlike that we’ve just come over. There’ll be little racing for the restof the day, but just steady plugging along. And we’ve got to eat, oldman!”
“Let me stick to the wheel while you take a bite, Dan,” begged theyounger boy, “and then I’ll eat. I wonder how far some of the head carswill get to-day? Where’s Mr. Briggs’ car?”
“Haven’t seen it yet. We haven’t passed that maroon baby, you may verywell believe!”
“And Mr. Darringford’s car?” queried Billy.
“Why, he’s behind. Didn’t you notice? His number is fifty-three.”
“And number seven?” said Billy. “That’s the car I want to give the dustof the road.”
“You’ll wait a bit for that,” said his brother. “Chance and Burtonstarted too far in advance for us to think of passing them yet.”
“You never can tell,” Billy observed, shaking his head. “Maybe they’llbreak down.”
“I hope not,” returned Dan, quickly. “If we beat them I want them tohave the best chance possible.”
“Say! I’d like to show ’em up right around Greenbaugh,” said Billy,quickly. “You know, Chance went to Greenbaugh Seminary one year—beforehis brother came to the Darringford shops.”
“Well?”
“Chance has been blowing around that the Greenbaugh Seminary fellowswill give him an ovation when he goes through the town. Of course, he’llwant to be clear ahead of most of the crowd, so as to show ’em what agreat driver he is. I don’t care how far ahead he is of the other cars,but when he parades down Greenbaugh’s High Street, I want him to betaking the dust of number forty-eight,” concluded Billy with energy.
“My! but you’re right vicious!” chuckled Dan, as they rumbled out uponthe river bridge and left City Ford behind them.
Our heroes climbed hills and descended short, sharp runs; they passedthrough forest and field; the “slow down” signs faced them frequentlyand Billy chafed as they ran through the hamlets at what he considered asnail’s pace.
At some places crowds had gathered to watch the contestants pass. Thenagain other automobiles joined in the procession and kept up with someof the entries for miles. These incidents retarded speed, if anything.The road race was much different from the track trials Dan and Billy hadseen.
In some small towns there was little order as the automobiles camethrough so close together. The constables were more interested in seeingthat the motorists did not exceed the speed limit than in keeping thestreets clear. Reckless boys would run back and forth across theroadway. It was perilous even to travel at the legal rate.
The Speedwells had passed several more cars. At one big, well-lightedroadhouse there were a dozen of the contestants in the race, having puttheir cars under the sheds for the night. Mr. Briggs’ big Postlethwaitewas just being backed into a stall as the Speedwells shot by. Henriwaved his hand to Dan and called good luck after them. It was somesatisfaction to the boys to know that they had gotten the best of atleast twenty of the other cars. They had then won on them from half anhour to two hours in time.
They had only an hour of their own time remaining, however, and theHolly Tree Inn at Farmingdale was still forty miles away. The roads werereported only fair. But comparatively few cars had been over them andthey would not be so badly cut up as were many which lay behind.
And within that forty miles the map showed but two hamlets where itwould be necessary to slow down. Both were liberal towns—twelve miles anhour was the limit.
The Breton-Melville car was running smoothly. Not an hour before theyhad oiled up and groomed her nicely. There was a possibility of makingthe Holly Tree within the time stipulated.
“And if we don’t, we’ll have to stop at Sharpe’s Crossroads to registerand stay for the night,” said Billy, nervously. “That’s the ticket,isn’t it, Dan?”
“Th
at is the result of failure,” smiled his brother. “_But we’re notgoing to fail!_”
They had interchanged these remarks at a spot where they had to runslowly. Once free again Dan let the car out with a suddenness that madethe machine leap like a horse under the spur. They shot along thecountry road, overhung with trees which made the darkness deeper, theirhead-lamps parting the gloom before them, and displaying objects withclearness. The Speedwells had fitted their car with good lamps; but noheadlight will reveal an obstruction in the road far enough in advancefor a car to be brought to a stop, if it is running at top speed.
They were taking chances, that was a fact. Dan Speedwell was not usuallyreckless; but he had a double incentive in thus “running on his luck.”Not alone did he desire to make the Holly Tree Inn within the ten-hourlimit; but car number seven had not yet been passed!
Burton Poole’s auto was still ahead. Dan believed that Chance Averywould drive Poole’s car at top speed this first day. And Billy himselflonged to beat car number seven no more than Dan did, although thelatter said less about it.
When the clock, screwed under the wind shield, showed twenty minutesafter nine they had traveled seventeen of the forty miles. And rightahead was the second village. For three miles and more they would haveto reduce speed—or, were supposed to.
But it is a nice problem to run one of these racing cars at a twelvemile an hour gait!
When number forty-eight came to the head of Main Street, the lightsrevealed a straggling row of houses on either side, a general store, ortwo, a postoffice, and a clear street. If Dan reduced speed at all,Billy never noticed it!
They roared through the little town like a limited express going by aflag station. There may have been constables in that town; but they werenot on hand. At least, Dan and Billy Speedwell never saw them as theyshot along the main thoroughfare and out into the country on the otherside.
Faster and faster the machine seemed to fly. When they took the curvesBilly threw his weight upon the other side, leaning far off from thestep and doing his best to keep the tires on the ground.
They flashed past the little collection of houses as Sharpe’sCrossroads. The clock pointed to twenty minutes to ten. It was ninemiles to the Farmingdale Inn.
The car took a curve and the wheels skidded; but Dan did not reducespeed. He got back into the center of the road before they reached acovered bridge over the river.
The bridge was well lighted. Good fortune in that!
As the car rushed down to the covered way Billy suddenly uttered afrightened yell. There was a car stalled right in the path!
The covered bridge was divided by a partition into two driveways. Thestalled machine was in the right-hand track—the way the Speedwellsshould take according to all rules of the road. Its rear lamp was shutoff and the Breton-Melville would have crashed into it had not thebridge lights revealed the danger.
And even then it is doubtful if Dan could have braked in time. Indeed,he did not try to. He swerved to the left and saw that that side of thebridge was clear.
The drab car shot across the bridge at terrific speed. The boys couldnot halt to see what was the matter with the stalled auto. A few momentsonly did they have to run into Farmingdale. And they would have toreduce speed on the outskirts of the town.
For several miles they had traveled more than a mile a minute!
The day’s race was done, however; the lights of the Holly Tree Inn werein sight. They rolled into the yard, where several autos were alreadystanding, with two minutes to spare. It was twelve minutes to ten.
But as Dan and Billy threw aside their coats and got out to stretchtheir legs, the younger boy said:
“What car do you suppose that was in the bridge, Dannie?”
“Give it up. Didn’t see any number on it.”
“I know. And Mr. Briggs’ car is behind us—we passed it.”
“Sure,” declared Dan, in surprise.
“Well, that car in the bridgeway was a maroon auto; I didn’t know therewas more than one maroon car in the race; did you?” queried Billy,seriously.