Bert Wilson's Twin Cylinder Racer Part 10

"You sit here," exclaimed Tom, jumping out. "I'll sit on the floor and hold on somehow. Let her go, d.i.c.k."

Before the plainsman had fairly settled himself in the seat d.i.c.k had let in the clutch, and the car started away with a jerk, d.i.c.k steering according to directions given him by the old man as they went along.

They plowed through the sand at a breakneck pace, Tom hanging on for dear life. Soon they came in sight of the railroad embankment, and d.i.c.k slowed down slightly. Their guide waved his arm to the right, and d.i.c.k wrenched the wheel around, causing the machine to skid wildly in the yielding sand. Their guide hung on desperately, but was heard to mutter something about "stickin' to hosses after this." Soon they reached the road that Bert had traversed the night before, and there, sure enough, were the marks of motorcycle tires. Their guide gave a whoop. "We're close on his trail now," he yelled, "give this tarnation machine a touch o' the spurs, young feller."

d.i.c.k followed out the spirit of this admonition, at any rate, and after ten minutes of furious driving they caught sight of the "Blue Streak." A little further, and they could make out Bert's rec.u.mbent form, apparently asleep.

"Well," exclaimed Tom, heaving a sigh of relief as d.i.c.k reduced speed, "we've had all our worry for nothing, I guess."

But the old plainsman was peering out from under his h.o.r.n.y palm. "It's almighty queer," he muttered under his breath. "That young chap must be an all-fired heavy sleeper to sleep in broad daylight like that. Let's get out an' walk the rest o' the way," he continued, aloud.

d.i.c.k looked at him curiously, but did as he proposed, and brought the car to a standstill. They all got out, and Tom and d.i.c.k were going to make a dash for the sleeper, but their guide held them back. "Easy boys, easy," he cautioned. "There's somethin' wrong here, an' I've an idee I know what it is, too."

"That's whatever!" he exclaimed, when they had advanced cautiously a few steps further. "They's a bunch o' scorpions has crawled up on him durin'

the night to keep warm, an' if he moves an eyelash they'll sting him, sure. An' ef they do----" he stopped significantly, and the two friends of the threatened man paled as they realized the full horror of the situation.

Here was their friend menaced by a hideous death, and they found themselves powerless to help him. They were within a hundred feet of him, but to all intents and purposes they might as well have been a hundred miles distant. The first attempt on their part to help him would only precipitate the very tragedy that they sought to avoid.

Bert lay in the shadow cast by the "Blue Streak," over which he had thrown a blanket to protect it from wind-blown sand. The hideous creatures would not leave him until the sun drove them into hiding, and Bert might wake at any moment. What to do they knew not. They racked their brains desperately for some plan of action, but could think of none.

It was the old frontiersman who came to their rescue. "Ef I only had a bit o' lookin' gla.s.s," he muttered, looking aimlessly about him, "I might do somethin'. But they probably ain't no sech thing nearer than ten miles."

"If that would do any good I can get you one," exclaimed Tom, seized with an inspiration. He raced back to the auto, and, seizing a wrench, attacked the mirror attached to the dash for the purpose of reflecting objects coming in back of the car. He had it off in less time than it takes to tell, and ran back, waving it over his head. "Here you are!" he exclaimed, thrusting it into the hands of the guide. "But I don't see what good that will do."

"Never you mind, son," said the old man, s.n.a.t.c.hing the mirror from him.

"Jest you watch my smoke."

He took up a position on the other side of Bert, and manipulated the mirror so that a bright beam of sunlight fell on the rec.u.mbent form. Its effect was soon apparent. The poisonous insects stirred uneasily, trying to avoid the glare that they hated. Finding that there was no escaping it, they at last commenced to crawl down in search of a more shady resting place.

One by one they made off, the flashing ray of light hastening the departure of the laggards. Watching breathlessly, d.i.c.k and Tom waited for the last noxious insect to crawl sluggishly down onto the blanket and then off into the sand. Even after the last one had been dislodged, the prairieman played the reflected sunlight over Bert until there was no longer cause for apprehension.

"All right, young fellers," he said at last. "I cal'late you can wake your friend up now without takin' any long chances."

d.i.c.k and Tom were about to avail themselves of this permission, but found that there was no need. As they started forward the "sleeper" sat up, and then scrambled to his feet.

His comrades uttered a simultaneous expression of surprise, and d.i.c.k exclaimed, "Of all the lucky old reprobates that ever lived, Bert, you're certainly the luckiest, without exception. If you had waked up ten minutes sooner, you would----"

"Waked up your grandmother," interrupted Bert. "Why, I've been awake over an hour. I was awake when you got here, but I was afraid to move for fear of having one of those things bite me--ugh!" and a great shudder of disgust pa.s.sed over him, "that was a waking nightmare in earnest. I feel as weak as a rag. Look at that!" and he held out his hand. It was trembling like a leaf.

"Waal, I'll be jiggered," exclaimed the Westerner, in an admiring voice, "you've sure got nerve, young feller, and no mistake. It ain't everybody as could hold hisself the way you did with them blamed critters crawlin'

all over him. It took nerve, it sh.o.r.e did."

"Probably you'd have done the same thing if you'd been in my place,"

observed Bert, with a friendly smile.

"Waal, mebbe I would an' mebbe I wouldn't," replied the old man, evidently much gratified by this little compliment, "although I don't say as how I haven't had one or two close shaves in my time, mind ye."

"Well, at any rate, I guess I owe my life to you, and, of course, to my pals here," said Bert, "and all I can say is, that I'm more than grateful."

"That's all right, young feller," replied the plainsman, with a deprecatory wave of his hand, "you can thank me best by not sayin' a word about it. You'd have done the same fer me ef you'd had the chance."

Bert said no more, but shook hands all around, and then prepared to start on. "You fellows lead the way," he said, "and I'll follow. My appet.i.te is beginning to come back with a rush."

"Ye'd better follow the road we come by back a piece," advised their guide, "ye'll soon come to the main road leadin' into Boyd, and you oughtn't to have any further trouble."

"That listens all right," observed Bert, and d.i.c.k and Tom were of the same mind. Accordingly, they lost no time in packing up Bert's luggage, and soon had it stored neatly on the carrier. Then d.i.c.k pointed the nose of the automobile in the direction their guide had advised, Bert following at a little distance to give the dust raised by the pa.s.sage of the automobile time to settle. In a short time they reached the road of which the guide had spoken, and they spun along merrily.

They made a slight detour to set down the old frontiersman, who had rendered them such invaluable a.s.sistance. They parted from him with great regret and many expressions of grat.i.tude. He stood in the sandy road waving his hat after them until his figure became indistinct in the distance.

"There was a friend in need, if there ever was one," said Tom, and d.i.c.k was of the same opinion.

After awhile the road broadened out somewhat, and Bert ranged up alongside the automobile. He closed the m.u.f.fler of his machine, and as it glided along with scarcely a sound he and his friends conversed without the slightest difficulty. In this way the distance seemed nothing at all, and in due time they drew into Boyd.

Bert left the "Blue Streak" at the garage, and went with Tom and d.i.c.k to their hotel. They were all ravenously hungry, and the ravages they caused among the eatables filled the waiters with astonishment. At last they had finished, and then proceeded to discuss their future movements.

"I've managed to keep pretty well to schedule so far," he told them, "and some of the worst going is over. But, believe me, I wouldn't want to repeat some of the experiences I've had. Take this morning, for instance."

"No, I shouldn't think you would," said d.i.c.k. "But tell us about a few.

It won't do you any harm to rest up an hour or two now, and we're crazy to hear some of your adventures. Reel off a few, like a good fellow."

Bert gave them a brief review of his recent movements, and they listened with the greatest interest. Some of the incidents were very amusing, but they elicited less laughter than they usually would, for the nerves of all three had not yet fully recovered from the shock they had received that morning.

"Well," said Bert at last, rising, "I'm sorry, fellows, but I'm afraid I'll have to be moving. Get hold of that auto again, why don't you, and go with me a little way. You can do that all right, can't you?"

"Sure," exclaimed d.i.c.k. "Bet your sweet life we can," chimed in Tom, and so it was settled.

The three comrades proceeded directly to the garage, and had no difficulty in hiring the car that had already served them so well that morning. Bert ran the "Blue Streak" out onto the sunlit road, and, running beside it, shot on the spark. The motor started immediately, and he gave a flying leap into the saddle.

d.i.c.k and Tom were close behind, and tried to catch up with him. But Bert would not have it so. As soon as they began to get close he would shoot ahead, and although they had a speedy car, they realized that they stood no chance against such a motorcycle as the "Blue Streak."

Laughingly they gave over the attempt, and Bert dropped back until they were abreast of him.

"No chance, fellows," he called gaily. "The old 'Blue Streak' and I don't take the dust of any mere automobile."

They exchanged jokes and friendly insults until they had gone much further than they realized, and were forced to turn back.

They stopped before parting and shook hands.

"So long, old fellow," said d.i.c.k. "We'll be waiting to meet you at Oklahoma."

"Good-bye," said Bert, wringing their hands, "see you later," and, leaping on the "Blue Streak," was soon lost to sight in a cloud of dust.

CHAPTER X

A DAY OF DISASTER