the clutch. There was a grinding sound of clutch and gears as the power
was transmitted to the rear wheels, and the "Red Scout" lunged forward.

The front wheels were so firmly embedded by this time, however, that
even the "Red Scout" was helpless. Again and again Bert raced his engine
and let in the clutch, and each time the machine made a gallant attempt
to free itself, but could never quite make it. Finally he reversed, but
with no better result. At last he gave up the attempt, and leaving the
motor turning over slowly, descended to hold a consultation with the
other boys.

"Have you any suggestions to make, fellows?" he asked, "I confess I'm up
a tree just at present. What do you say, Bob? Can you think of
anything?"

"Why, I was thinking," answered Bob, flattered by this direct appeal to
his vaunted experience, "that if we could dig out a path in front of the
machine up onto the grass we might get it out that way."

"Say! you've hit the nail on the head this time!" exclaimed Bert,
enthusiastically. "That's just what we'll do. Get that spade out of the
tonneau, will you Frank, and we'll get to work."

Frank immediately complied, and in an incredibly short space of time the
boys had a path dug in front of the auto down to hard gravel, and were
ready for another attempt to extricate their beloved car.

Bert climbed into his seat with a do-or-die expression on his handsome
young face, and repeated his former tactics, but this time with
greater success. The "Red Scout" surged forward with a roar, like some
imprisoned wild creature suddenly given its liberty. Bert took no
chances this time, but plugged steadily onward until he reached high,
firm ground. Here he stopped the panting machine, and waited for the
cheering boys to catch up.

They soon reached the faithful car, and quickly jumped into their
places. Before starting again Bert turned around and said, "Fellows, I
think we owe Bob a vote of thanks. All who agree please say 'Aye'."

There was a hearty chorus of "Ayes," and Bob flushed with pleasure at
this tribute from his comrades. He thought, and with reason, that he had
demonstrated his knowledge of automobiles to good advantage, as well as
his ability to meet emergencies.

By this time it was getting near dusk, and Bert knew that Mr. Hollis
would be worried over their continued absence. Accordingly, when he got
on to the main road, he threw the gears into high speed, and soon they
were bowling along at a rapid, but safe, pace toward their camp.

It would be hard to imagine a happier set of boys in the world than those
who sat in the big red automobile in the silence of good fellowship and
listened to the contented purring of the "Red Scout's" powerful motor.

As they revolved in their minds the exciting occurrences of the day, and
thought of other equally happy days yet to come, it seemed to them that
there was indeed nothing more desirable in life than to be campers with
such leaders as Mr. Hollis, Bert Wilson, and Dick Trent. It is safe to
say that they would not have changed places with any other set of boys
on earth.

"Say, Bert," said Jim Dawson, breaking the long silence, "that race is
as good as won already. I'm sure that with this machine and you driving
it, we couldn't lose if we tried. What do you think?"

Bert did not answer for a moment, and when he did his eyes twinkled
merrily. "Well, Jim," he said, "I don't know whether we'll win or not
and that 'Gray Ghost' is certainly some racer. From what I have seen of
our old 'Red Scout' to-day, however,--but there, I'm not going to say
any more just now. There is no use raising your hopes, and then perhaps
have nothing come of that in the end." And with that they were forced
to be content.

By this time they had almost reached the camp, and could see the smoke
of the fire. Soon they rolled smoothly into camp, and Mr. Hollis came to
meet them with a relieved look on his face. At first he seemed inclined
to blame them, but Bert soon explained matters to his entire
satisfaction.

The boys mingled with their comrades, and many were the exclamations of
wonder over their day's experiences. After a short rest, supper was
prepared, and while they all voted it delicious, still they claimed that
nothing had ever tasted quite as good as their lunch in the old barn.

As Tom and Bert were dropping off to sleep that night, Tom murmured
drowsily, "Say, Bert, did we or didn't we have a bully time to-day, eh?"

"Just bet your hat we did."

"Well, say, isn't the old 'Red Scout' about the greatest automobile that
ever turned a wheel?"

"That's whatever it is," concurred Bert, and dropped off to sleep with a
smile on his face, and the image of a big red automobile enthroned in
his heart.

CHAPTER X

QUICK WORK

"You fellows get it all," complained Steve Thomas, with as ugly a look
as such a round good-natured face as his could wear.

"You sure do seem to move in a charmed circle," chimed in another
grumbler.

"Don't they?" echoed a third. "They ought to be called the lucky three.
This is the fourth time in less than two weeks that they've had the
auto."

The "lucky three," to whom these remarks were addressed, stood grinning
happily at the disgusted faces of the other fellows in camp.

The question to be settled was as to what ones should take the auto into
town for some supplies that were unexpectedly but urgently needed. There
had been quite a lively dispute, waxing louder and louder until it
threatened to end in a genuine quarrel.

Mr. Hollis, busily finishing some letters that he wanted to send into
town by the boys, was at first too absorbed in his writing to notice the
unusual disturbance, but as the recriminations grew hotter he saw that
immediate action was necessary.

Rising hastily and taking in his hand a sheet of paper on which he had
been writing, he stepped from his tent into the group of heated boys.

The clamor ceased at once and when he learned the cause of the
discussion, Mr. Hollis proposed to draw lots. The fellows who should
draw the numbers one, two and three were to be the autoists for the
trip.

This seemed fair to all, and cutting the paper into equal strips Mr.
Hollis wrote a number on each and, shaking them well in a hat passed
them around. When they had all been drawn, each one turned over his slip
and looked eagerly for the sign that fate had been good to him.

The lot had fallen to Bert, Tom, and Ben. There was no appeal and the
rest of the camp had to submit, some, however, with so poor a grace that
Mr. Hollis, smilingly genially remarked:

"Come, boys, be sports. Any fellow can growl but it takes an all-around
manly one to bear defeat smilingly. There's always the chance of better
luck next time."

His words and manner speedily dissipated what shreds of ill-temper
remained, so that the boys gave a rousing cheer for a send-off as the
car, gleaming like red gold in the brilliant morning sunshine, shot off
up the road and disappeared from their longing eyes.

As for the fortunate three in the car, everything unpleasant was
forgotten in the twinkling of an eye. A great splendid flying auto is no
place for disagreeable memories, and the woods rang with song and jokes
and laughter as the car flew on.

Out of the woods at last they swept into a wide well-kept turnpike,
where they could safely ride at greater speed.

Bert opened up the throttle and the "Red Scout" fairly "burned up the
ground." They passed a number of lumbering ox carts and farm wagons
drawn by sedate old horses, whom nothing could dismay. Now just in front
of them they saw a runabout, drawn by two spirited bay horses evidently
of the thoroughbred type.

As they came up behind the carriage, Tom noticed that one of the horses
began to prance and that the lady who held the reins glanced behind
nervously.

"Wouldn't you better go rather slow," he cautioned Bert; "one of those
horses doesn't seem to have any love for automobiles."

Accordingly, Bert was very careful as he attempted to pass the runabout;
but at the first glimpse of the car the prancing horse reared up on his
hind legs and lurched heavily against his mate. Startled, the other
horse plunged forward, jerking the reins from the driver's hands. The
feel of the loose reins on their backs completed their panic, and before
anyone realized what was happening, the horses had taken the bit between
their teeth and were dashing down the road, utterly beyond control. The
carriage swayed frightfully from side to side, and the two ladies, their
faces blanched with fear, clung desperately to the seats.

The "lucky three," feeling not a bit lucky at that moment, were filled
with dismay.

"I suppose that's our fault," groaned Tom, "although I don't for the
life of me see how we could have helped it."

"That's not the question," said Bert, anxiously, "the only thing now is
how to help them."

"It seems to me," said Tom, "that the thing to do is to overtake them,
range up alongside and then one of us jump into the carriage and get
hold of the reins."

This seemed the only feasible thing and the speeding auto soon came
within a few feet of the runaways. Bert waited till the road widened and
then shot the auto over the intervening space and drew alongside. Tom
grasped the wheel and Bert, watching his chance, sprang into the
carriage. The double motion hurled him backward and almost out on the
road, but with a desperate effort, he succeeded in grasping the back of
the seat and held on. Then climbing over, he made his perilous way out
upon the shaft between the flying horses and snatched the reins. Upon
these he pulled and sawed with all his strength until he at last brought
the frightened beasts under control.

Tom and Ben, seeing their opportunity, stopped the machine, and, running
to the horses' heads, brought them to a standstill. They helped the
trembling women to alight and with cushions and robes hastily brought
from the auto made them a comfortable seat at the foot of a tree by the
roadside. Ben, bethinking himself of the drinking cup that was part of
the auto's equipment, filled it with water from a nearby spring, and
under these attentions the ladies somewhat recovered from their
terrifying experience. The elder of the two turned to the boys and tried
to express her heartfelt gratitude, while, if the younger was to be
believed, they had proved themselves veritable heroes. This they
modestly disclaimed and declared they were only too delighted to have
been able to stop the team before any serious harm had been done.

Meanwhile the horses stood panting and trembling at the side of the
road. Evidently it would not be safe to attempt to drive them again at
present, and they were greatly relieved when a young farmer, who had
seen the runaway, came up and offered to keep them overnight in his
barn.

The horses thus disposed of, the "lucky three" offered gallantly to
drive the ladies home in their car. So, fastening the runabout to the
rear of the auto and seating their guests comfortably in the tonneau,
the boys crowded into the driver's seat and were soon gliding up a broad
avenue of elms that ended at the spacious and elegant home to which they
had been directed. Declining a pressing invitation to enter, the boys,
followed by their repeated thanks, started off with redoubled speed on
their original errand.

Without further adventure they secured their supplies and turned
toward home. What was their surprise as they neared the camp to see
a procession of the fellows coming down the road, some beating on
imaginary drums, others blowing on horns, still others with harmonicas
and jewsharps, but managing in some unaccountable way to evolve the
well-known air of

    "Hark! The Conquering Hero Comes!"

It was evident that the news of their adventure had preceded them.

The "Gray Ghost," coming over to the camp to discuss some detail of the
forthcoming race, had overtaken the farmer leading the runaway horses
and had learned the particulars. Hence the impromptu band and the
nerve-racking rendition of the triumphal welcome. It was comical but
cordial, and the boys would not have been human had they failed to
appreciate it. And later on their hearts thrilled with still greater
pleasure at Mr. Hollis' earnest words of commendation.

They were soon seated at the table with their guests from the rival
camp, and in the discussion of the anticipated race all else was
forgotten. They had not finished before a strange automobile rolled up
and the colored chauffeur lifting a large basket from the car and bowing
low, announced that it was for Mr. Bert Wilson and his friends from the
ladies whom they had rescued that day from deadly peril.

Many and loud were the exclamations of delight when the basket was found
to be filled with the mostly costly and delicious fruit. Before the
onslaught of the crowd it vanished like magic and Jim urged the boys to
stop a team of runaways every day that summer.

The fruit seemed to the boys the last souvenir of that memorable day, so
crowded with incident and accident. But it was not. The "lucky three"
were to be reminded of this day's adventure in a most unexpected manner
before the season ended.

CHAPTER XI

THE FOUR-LEGGED RECRUIT

"Don, boy, look here," cried Bert, coming out of the mess tent after
dinner with a plate of scraps. "Now how are you going to thank me for
it?" he asked as Don pranced up, barking and wig-wagging with his tail.

Don's answer was to stick his cold muzzle into Bert's hand and to
wig-wag a little harder.

"Now, old fellow," said Bert when Don had cleared the plate, "some of
the boys are hunting butterflies over there and I want you to get this
note to them right away. Do you understand, Beauty?"

The dog looked up with full understanding in the eyes that said so much
and barked joyfully as Bert tied the note to his collar. He started off
in the direction pointed out to him perfectly happy in the thought that
he was serving his master.

Bert looked fondly after the proudly lifted head and waving silver brush
of his favorite. The dog had been a mystery to the whole camp. He seemed
to know what was said to him and scarcely ever failed to carry out any
directions given him. He had learned a great many tricks in the few
days he had been in camp besides displaying some he had mastered
previously. With one accord they decided that he must have been stolen
by the tramps, who, in the discomfort and excitement of the other day,
had forgotten all about him.

A squad of the boys had that morning been sent over to the hills on an
all-day hike to hunt for butterflies and to study ants--the last had
become a favorite amusement among them since Dick's talk of a few days
before. Bert had expected to go with them, but, as more supplies were
needed from the village, he had volunteered to go over for them in the
"Red Scout," although he would much rather have gone with the "bug
squad." The note that he had entrusted to Don contained a warning to the
boys to come home by the main road and not attempt to come over the
hills as they contained many dangerous holes and pitfalls. He was sure
that Don could find the boys because he had gone with them more than
once on their hikes among the hills.

Meanwhile, up in the hills, one of the boys, Arthur Gray by name, had
wandered way off from his fellows before he realized it. A strikingly
beautiful butterfly had led him on and on, now lingering on one flower,
now on another, always flitting away at the very instant when Arthur
felt sure of success. Finally, with a lazily graceful motion of its
delicately marked wings, it flew away and was lost to sight, leaving
Arthur to "mop his fevered brow," as Dick would have said.

Looking around him he discovered that the boys were nowhere to be found.
He reached for his pocket compass and found, to his great surprise and
dismay, that it wasn't there.

By this time, really worried, he tried to remember where he was and
which way he had come, but all with no result. The butterfly had led him
there by such a roundabout path that he could not, for the life of him,
point out the direction from which he had come. What should he do? In a
moment he thought that he had brought his watch with him--more by luck
than anything else, for he often left it at the camp--and he remembered
that he could find in what direction the South lay by means of it.

By that time it was exactly four o'clock, and, pointing the hour hand
toward the sun, he found that the number 2 on his watch-face pointed to
the South: that is, half the distance between four o'clock and twelve
when the other hand is pointed toward the sun, marks the southerly
direction. Of course, when he had one point of the compass it was very
simple for him to find the others--that being a necessary part of summer
camp training. Arthur knew that the camp lay somewhere to the East so
he started to get there as fast as his legs would carry him.

But, alas. The time when we think fate has been most kind to us often
turns out to be the time when it is hardest. So it was in Arthur's case.
As he hurried along, congratulating himself on having thought of so easy
and quick a way to get out of his difficulty, he forgot that the passes
over the hills had been reported dangerous.

Going happily along he had no warning of what was in store for him
until, with a groan, he sank to the ground and began to rub his ankle.
He had stepped into one of those treacherous holes that covered the
whole countryside and had sprained his ankle very badly.

Painfully, he tried to get up, but when he attempted to bear his weight
on the injured ankle, it pained so cruelly that he winced.

"Oh, I can't, I can't," he moaned aloud in his misery. "What shall I do,
what shall I do?" and, sinking to the ground, he covered his face with
his hands.

Meanwhile, the boys had missed him and had begun to search all over for
him. Not finding him, they became anxious and looked desperately for him
in every place they could think of.

"I wonder if he could be hiding in a cave the way Jim was doing the
other day," Shorty suggested.

"Don't be a fool, Shorty," said Tom, rather sharply. "Arthur isn't that
kind. Probably he's chased some butterfly way off somewhere and can't
find his way back."

"He ought to be able to find his way easily enough with his pocket
compass. The thing I'm afraid of is that he may have met with some
accident," said Frank.

Just then Don came trotting up to Tom, calling attention to the note
tied to his collar by a series of short, imperative barks. Tom patted
his head lovingly and called him a "good fellow" at which Don wig-wagged
vigorously. The boys all crowded around, eager to see what was in the
note.

"It's from Bert," Tom announced, "and he says that Mr. Hollis wants
us to come home by the main road because of the dangerous holes and
pitfalls. Say, fellows," as the truth dawned upon him, "do you think
that Arthur can be hurt so that he can't get to us?"

"Nobody knows. But I know one thing," said Shorty stoutly, "and that is,
that I won't leave these hills to-night until we have found him."

"Good for you, Shorty," said Frank. "I know we all feel the same way so
we had better get down to business in a hurry."

All the time the boys had been speaking Don had stood with his head
cocked knowingly on one side, watching their every action. When they
started to go he looked up into Tom's face, mutely asking to be allowed
to go too. And Tom answered heartily, "You just bet you can come along,
Don. We couldn't do without you."

Then the boys began to scour the woods in good earnest. For half an hour
they worked hard with a dull, aching sensation at their hearts. They
looked behind rocks, pulled aside dense underbrush, gazed down deep
ravines with the awful fear that they might see their comrade lying at
the bottom. They were coming now into the most dangerous part of the
country and they were forced to work slowly and with the utmost care.

When they paused, weary and discouraged, to consult on what course was
best to follow, Don's short bark reached their ears and in a minute the
dog himself rushed up to them. Then, running back and forth between them
and the direction from which he had come, he plainly showed them that he
wished them to follow him.

"We'd better go," Tom said. "He may have found him, or at least some
trace of him."

So, with Don in the lead the boys started once more. As they went they
called Arthur's name, but at first nothing but the echoes answered them.
They were so torn by thorns and briers and so wearied by the long search,
that nothing but the thought that their poor comrade was in a much worse
plight than they, could have kept them to their task. Finally, when they
were beginning to think that Don was leading them on a wrong scent, they
heard a faint cry. Joyfully, they called out again and again and each
time the answer came nearer. When they came upon the runaway at last they
were so happy that they didn't notice his condition at once. When they
did realize how badly he was hurt, they forgot how tired they were and
set about at once to relieve him.

The poor boy had tried to drag himself along on his hands but had not
been able to get very far. The boys bandaged the ankle and then began
making a litter. It wasn't very long before they had Arthur fairly
comfortable on the improvised bed. With light hearts the procession
started for camp, Don proudly taking the lead. The boys thought it was
best not to question Arthur until he had had time to recover from the
shock.

It was nearly dark, when, tired and hungry, the "bug squad" reached
camp. It is a well known fact that boys are not worth much when they
are hungry. Mr. Hollis, who was a good judge of human nature, hurried
the troop into supper, declaring that curiosity could be much better
satisfied on a full stomach than an empty one.

After supper the boys made the usual camp fire and made the wounded hero
of the day comfortable before it. When the preliminaries were over the
boys called for the story of the "bug squad's" adventures.

Tom told as much of the story as he knew and then, turning to Arthur,
asked, "Did Don really find you there? We weren't sure but that he might
just have struck the trail."

"He did both," Arthur replied. "He struck my trail and followed it until
he found me. I don't think I was ever so glad in my life as I was to see
our Don come trotting up ready for some petting. He saw that I was hurt,
though, and started away like a streak of lightning to bring you to
my help. At first I thought that he was deserting me, but even as the
thought came to me I knew it was unjust. Think of our gallant Don
deserting anyone in distress. Then in a few minutes I heard you hail
and answered as well as I could. I will always carry a picture of you
fellows as you came into sight, with Don in the lead. Believe me, it was
the finest I ever saw or expect to see. And now, fellows, I want you to
give three cheers for the hero of the day and the finest dog that ever
lived. Come on, now----

"HOORAY-HOORAY-HOORAY--Now let 'er out fellows--HOORAY," and in spite of
his sprained ankle, Arthur led the cheers that echoed and re-echoed
through the trees for rods around.

All the time the cause of all the enthusiasm was lying with his head on
Bert's knee, watching the boys contentedly. When they all crowded
around, he took the praises they showered on him as a true gentleman
should--with courtesy and dignity, only those speaking eyes of his
telling of the love in his heart for the boys that would have made him
die for any one of them.

If ever a dog was glad and happy, his name was Don that night. Although
he didn't understand what it was all about, he knew that he was being
honored and showed that he appreciated it.

The happiest moment in the whole day for Don came when Bert put both
arms lovingly around his neck and whispered, "You're a trump, old man."

And so the four-legged recruit went happily to sleep to dream that he
was rescuing all the boys in camp.

CHAPTER XII

THE YOUNGSTERS' GREAT DAY

"Say, fellows," said Bert, as he lay stretched out lazily beneath the
limbs of a spreading beech, "isn't this the finest day ever?"

"You bet it is," said Tom, "the mould was broken when this day was
made."

It was, indeed, one of the perfect days that come sometimes to break the
heat of sweltering midsummer. A brisk wind stirred the branches through
which the sunlight, flecking lazily the ground beneath, played over the
group of boys, who lay in all sorts of abandoned attitudes on a bit of
rising ground a little removed from the camp. They had had a splendid
morning's sport. The coolness of the day and the fine condition of the
roads and meadows had suggested to them the game of Hare and Hounds. Up
hill and down dale they had raced with occasional intervals of rest.
When the hares had successfully shaken off their pursuers, still the
bewildered hounds had nosed about, so to speak, seeking to pick up the
lost trail. Bert and Tom had been the hares and their escape from
capture had added to the delight occasioned by the day and the game
itself. It was only after the rice that they had carried in their
pouches to make a trail had been almost exhausted, that they thought of
doubling on their tracks and making for camp.

The hounds had trailed in a little later on, looking a bit discomfited
but not disheartened. As Pete Hart, one of the hounds, said "though
slightly disfigured they were still in the ring." And, oh, how that
dinner tasted and how impossible it was almost for the famished boys to
wait while the fish snatched from the brook that morning were frizzling
in the pan and came in tantalizing whiffs to the nostrils of the boys.
Something more substantial than whiffs, however, did quickly follow, and
now like gorged anacondas full to the brim, they lay stretched out upon
the grass and talked over the events of the morning.

"I tell you what, boys," said Frank, "it sure was the luckiest day in my
life when I struck this camp."

"Well," said Tom, "I reckon we all say amen to that. Think of being out
in these woods on such a day as this with a lot of jolly good fellows
and not a thing to do but be happy. When I think of the people in town
roasting under the summer heat while we are out here under the trees,
you bet I feel sorry for them."

"Yes," said Jim, who, as usual, had eaten more even than the others and
hadn't before had energy enough to speak, "the town is all right in the
fall and spring, but when the summer comes, me for the long hike and the
camp in the woods."

"It sure does us a lot of good," said Bert. "I know that when I go back
to the city after a summer like this I feel so strong that I could lift
a ton."

"God made the country but man made the town," chimed in Dick who was
great on quotations. "I think it does everybody good to get away
somewhere where they can come in contact with the woods and the brooks
and the squirrels and the birds. Who was it we used to read about--that
fellow in the old Grecian stories--I think his name was Antaeus, who got
into a fight with one of the old heroes and every time he was knocked
down, refreshed by contact with mother earth, got up ten times stronger
than before. I guess that is the way we feel after a summer spent in the
woods."

While they were speaking, Mr. Hollis had joined the group. The boys
quickly moved aside to make room for him. Although he was so much older
than they, his genial spirit and unfailing friendliness kept him in
touch with every one of the boys. At heart he was still a boy and
always would be one. He was a stickler for discipline, but not in the
slightest degree a martinet. With him it was always the "iron hand in
the velvet glove," and he was so just, so considerate, he understood boy
nature so thoroughly and in the case of each was able so accurately to
put himself in his place, that the boys regarded him as a father or
rather an older brother, instead of a commander.

"I heard what you said, Tom," he said, smiling, "about not having a
thing to do but be happy. Are you quite sure you have nothing to do but
that?"

Tom stared a moment, "why yes," he said slowly, "to make somebody else
happy."

"That's the thing," said Mr. Hollis. "You hit the nail right on the head
that time, Tom. There is no higher aim in life than to make some one
else happy."

A murmur of assent arose from the boys.

"Now," said Mr. Hollis, "we ought to do some one a good turn every day.
It doesn't matter especially what that good turn is. It may be a thing
so slight as almost to escape notice. It is just in some way or other to
add to the sweetness of human life. It may be to give somebody a lift in
the automobile--it may be a word of appreciation to kindle a smile on
some tired face; it may be guiding a blind man across the street, or
giving your seat to a woman in the street car, or even so slight a thing
as to kick a banana peel off the sidewalk. The essence of the whole
thing is self-forgetfulness. To lend a hand, to give a lift, to make
life brighter and easier for someone even in the smallest degree.

"But what I have in mind just now is a sort of wholesale lift. When I
was in town the other day I passed the orphan asylum. You know the one I
mean. That building just off the Court House Square with a stone wall
around it and a pretty lawn in front."

The boys remembered perfectly. Every one of them at some time or other
had passed the place and seen the childish faces at the windows.

"Now," said Mr. Hollis, "my idea is this. There are from forty to fifty
children in that building. It serves as the asylum for all the towns in
the county. I happen to know it is carried on in a splendid way. The
officials at the head are kind and humane and the matrons in charge
take the best possible care of the little ones, but after all they
need variety. They want individual attention. In a home of that kind
even with the best intentions there has to be a certain monotony and
uniformity. They have to rise at a certain hour, sit down at the table
at the same moment, go to the school room at a given time, and even
play under the direction of somebody else. Now, what a glorious thing it
would be if for one day those children could come out into the woods and
roll in the grass and chase the squirrels and kick up their heels like
young colts let loose in the pasture. What do you say boys, to giving up
one whole day of this vacation and make those little ones think they
have had a glimpse of heaven?"

What they said was plenty. As Shorty said, "it hit them where they
lived."

There was a chorus of excited exclamations, "Will we?" "You bet!"
"Just try us and see." "When's it going to be?" "Why can't we have it
to-morrow?" "How many kids are there in the asylum?" "What's the best
way to get them here?" At last Mr. Hollis, smiling, had to raise his
hand, in order to be heard.

"Well," said he, "I haven't fixed upon the date. As a matter of fact,
I haven't spoken to the officers of the institution at all and am
not absolutely sure that they will see their way clear to make the
arrangement. Of course, they have a great responsibility upon them
in caring for so many little ones and they would have to look at the
question from every side. Still I don't think there will be much trouble
in arranging it. They are just as eager to see the children have a good
time as we are, and I think the idea will strike them as a capital one.
One or two of the people in charge will, of course, have to come with
them. Ordinarily they might feel a little timid about letting the
children spend a whole day in the woods in company with a lot of
high-spirited boys who might be reckless, and, even with the best
intentions, lead them into danger. Still, you boys have established such
a good reputation in this neighborhood," and here Mr. Hollis looked
about on the eager faces with an expression of pride, "that I don't
think there will be any real trouble in arranging the affair."

"It is a capital idea," said Dick, warmly. "How did you come to think
about it?"

"Well," said Mr. Hollis, "it wasn't original with me. It's a custom in
the city to set aside a day each year as 'Orphans' Day.' There are
thousands of well-to-do people, owners of automobiles, who have the
tenderest sympathy with these little ones deprived, by nature, of their
natural guardians, and on that one day of the year they give up all
thought of selfish enjoyment and try to give the children the time of
their lives. It's a splendid sight and warms the heart to see the long
line of automobiles coming down the avenues decked with flags and
overflowing with the little tots. Off they go to the beach where all
sorts of amusements have been prepared for them. They dig in the sand.
They paddle about with bare feet at the edge of the breakers. They take
in every innocent amusement from one end of the island to another. They
haven't any money to spend, but they couldn't spend it if they had.
Everything is free. The spirit of kindness and good feeling is shared
by all the owners of the different resorts, and the doors are flung
wide open the minute the children come in sight. They see the moving
pictures. They ride in the merry-go-round. They hold their breath as
they speed up and down the scenic railways. They watch, with awed
admiration, the wandering artist who moulds tigers and lions in the
sand. The life guards take them in their boats and row around the
different piers. They go to the great animal shows and see the big
brutes put through their wonderful tricks. They sit in the weighing
machines. They throw base-balls at the clay figures and the larger boys
are even permitted--supreme pleasure for a boy--to fire at the target in
the shooting galleries. They watch the great ocean steamers as they go
past at a distance, and the smaller vessels, like white-winged birds,
that hug the shore. And eat! How they do eat! They are like a flock of
ravenous locusts and the food disappears as if by magic. It's a day of
days for the poor little youngsters, to be talked over and dreamed over
for months to come, and when at the end of the day they pile into the
autos, tired, full, happy as larks, for the swift return journey to the
only place they know as home, it is a question who are the happier, the
little ones to whom this means so much or the owners of the machines
who, for that one day at least have spent themselves gladly for the
happiness of others."

The boys listened with rapt attention, and when Mr. Hollis had finished
they were chock full of enthusiasm.

"Well," said Tom, "we haven't any beach here, but I am willing to bet
that by the time we get through with those kids they will have had just
as good a time as any youngster in the big city ever had."

The boys all chimed assent to this, and Shorty, who was always impulsive
and never could bear to wait for anything that he greatly desired,
suggested, "Why not fix it up right away?"

"Well," said Mr. Hollis, "I don't see any objection to that. If Bert has
the automobile in shape we will go over at once."

So many of the boys wanted to go with him that, to avoid any selection,
Mr. Hollis suggested that they draw lots. Of course it went without
saying that Bert would go to drive the machine, but in addition fate
decreed that Tom, Frank, Jim, and Shorty should pile in with them. Off
they went along the smooth country roads, their hearts leaping not only
with the delight of the glorious day and the thrilling swiftness with
which the great machine sped over the turnpike, but also from the
feeling that they were going to carry gladness and sunshine into a lot
of wistful little hearts to whom father and mother were only names.

In what seemed only a few minutes from the time they left the camp, they
reached the asylum. Bert went in with Mr. Hollis while the rest of the
boys stayed outside in the machine of which they never tired, and where
they much preferred to stay rather than wander about the streets of the
town. The interview with the officers of the asylum was most cordial.
They knew Mr. Hollis as a courteous gentleman and a capable and careful
ruler of his little kingdom. The matron in charge was called in at the
conference and she also assented heartily and thankfully.

It was arranged that on the second day thereafter, provided, of course,
the weather was suitable, the outing should take place. Then arose the
question of transportation. How were they to get there? The automobile
would only carry a few of the little ones even though they were packed
in like sardines. The superintendent suggested that no doubt they would
be able to find plenty of the townspeople who would be glad to furnish
teams to carry the rest.

But just before this arrangement was concluded a thought occurred to
Bert. He knew how much the auto appealed to a youngster. They were used
to seeing horses and wagons and at times would be taken for a ride in
them, but automobiles were scarce in that locality and seemed almost
like a fairy vehicle to the little ones, as with faces pressed against
the panes they would see an occasional touring car glide swiftly along
the road in front. "Where were the horses?" "What made them go?" "Why do
they go so fast?" It seemed to Bert that half the delight of the little
ones would be in the automobile ride and as he pictured the little wave
of envy and discontent that would inevitably come over the youngsters
who were forced to take the more prosaic and common place wagons, he
said:

"What's the matter with taking them all over in the machine? Of course
we would have to make a good many trips, but what of that? It only takes
a few minutes to get from here to the camp and turn our load loose in
the woods and then come back for another. The whole thing could be
managed in a couple of hours. Bob and I could take turns in driving the
machine. I am sure Bob would be glad to, and I know I would, and as for
the kids, there is no question of the way they would feel about it."

"All right," said Mr. Hollis, while the superintendent and matron
greeted gratefully this further example of Bert's thoughtfulness and
kindness of heart.

When the machine returned to camp and the boys who had been left behind
learned of the arrangement, everything was bustle and stir at once.
Although the camp was always kept in first-class order, this being one
of their cardinal principles, yet there were a good many little things
that needed doing in order that the youngsters should have the glorious
time that the boys had mapped out for them. Some of them took a long
rope and fixed up a great swing between two oaks at a little distance
from the camp. Others arranged an archery butt and prepared bows and
arrows for the larger boys to use. A number of fishing lines with
sinkers and hooks were prepared so that the children might have the rare
delight of trying to catch their own dinner. Then, too, it was necessary
to go to town on several different occasions to secure supplies. Their
own store had to be replenished, and besides, they wanted to get a lot
of extra dainties that would appeal especially to the appetites of their
little guests.

There had been a heavy rain a day or two before and the prospects were
that nothing in the way of bad weather would mar the outing. This had
been a question of a little anxiety because their stay in camp was
rapidly nearing a close. Many of the boys had only a limited time to
stay and had to return to their employment in the city. And even those
who could extend the period had no desire to do so after their fellows
had gone.

In all this rush of preparation the automobile race was not neglected.
Every boy in the camp felt as though his own personal reputation was
involved in winning. Rumors had filtered in from different quarters that
Ralph Quinby, the driver of the "Gray Ghost", was simply burning up the
roads in exercise. It was even said that for a short distance he had
attained the speed of a mile a minute.

While there was no bitterness in the rivalry between the two camps, yet
their desire to win was extremely keen.

"You have simply got to get there, old fellow," said Dick as he and Bert
were tinkering at the machine on the morning before that set for the
outing. "It would never do to have those fellows say that the 'Red Scout'
had to take the dust of the 'Gray Ghost.'"

"Well," said Bert, who, as the driver of the car, naturally felt a
greater weight of responsibility than anybody else, "there are just
three things we need in order to come in first. Above everything else,
we've got to have the car in splendid condition. It must be stripped of
every single thing that might furnish wind resistance and make its work
that much harder. Every bolt and nut must be examined and tightened. The
lever, the clutch, the gear, has to be thoroughly examined. Many a race
is won in advance in this way, even before the machine leaves the post.
In the next place, we've got to have good judgment. By this I mean
judgment of pace. It isn't only what the speedometer says, but there is
a little something that tells the man who has his hand on the wheel just
when and just how hard he should hit it up. Sometimes it is wise to
trail the other fellow. At other times it may be well to set the pace,
but the ability to do either one or the other is the thing that, other
things being equal, is bound to tell in the long run. Then, greatest of
all, perhaps, is nerve. I don't know whether you have ever ridden, Dick,
in a machine that goes a mile a minute, but if you have, especially on a
circular track, you'll know something of what I mean. A fellow's nerves
must be like iron. The least hesitation, the least doubt, the least
shakiness even for the merest fraction of a second, may be fatal. This
is true even if one were riding without anything especially at stake,
but when we know that all the fellows will be yelling like Indians,
begging us to win, and know the bitter disappointment that will come to
them if the other fellow shows us the way over the line, I tell you it
is a sure enough test of a fellow's nerve."

"Well," said Dick, "as to that last point I haven't any doubt about you
having plenty of nerve, Bert. If that were the only thing in question I
would call the race won just now, but how about the machines themselves?
Don't they enter into the calculation?"

"Of course," said Bert, "that counts for an awful lot. You can't make a
cart horse beat a thoroughbred, no matter how well he is ridden. There's
got to be the speed there or everything else counts for nothing. But
take two machines of about equal power, and from all I hear the 'Red
Scout' hasn't much, if anything, on the 'Gray Ghost' in this particular,
it puts the matter right up to the drivers of the cars. Under those
conditions, nine times out of ten, it's the best man and not the best
machine that wins."

While Tom and Bert discussed the thing in this way soberly, the rest of
the troop hadn't a doubt in the world that their hero would win. They
idolized Bert. They had seen him under a variety of circumstances and
never once had he shown the white feather. Never once had he failed to
measure up to an emergency. Never once had he failed to use every ounce
of energy and power that he possessed. If he _should lose_--and this
thought was instantly dismissed as traitorous--they knew that, although
beaten, he would not be disgraced, and so, with a vast amount of
excitement but with scarcely the slightest feeling of trepidation, they
awaited the momentous day when the "Gray Ghost" and the "Red Scout"
should battle for supremacy.

"Orphans' Day" dawned clear and beautiful. There was just enough breeze
to temper the heat of the sun. The skies were cloudless. Many a tousled
little head up at the asylum had tossed restlessly on its pillow through
that night and almost all of the expectant youngsters needed no rising
bell to call them from their dreams. Even breakfast was dispatched more
quickly than usual, and the feverish impatience of the little tots made
it almost impossible to wait for the coming of that glorious automobile.

As it was necessary to save all possible space in the auto for the
children themselves, Bert drove the car over alone. When he came in
sight he was hailed with a yell of delight by a little group of seven or
eight gathered on the lawn, who had been told off, to the envy of their
less fortunate companions, for the first ride. The matron in charge made
a pretense of keeping order, but she had been a child herself and the
attempt was only half-hearted. In they piled, one after the other,
tumbling over the sides, or tossed in by the strong arms of Bert, and
untangled themselves somehow, some on the seats, some on the bottom of
the car between the last and the driver's seat. Brown heads, black
heads, blond heads, yes, even one little red head--that of Teddy
Mulligan--made what Shorty said when he saw it was "a sure enough color
scheme."

As soon as they were safely ensconced, Bert blew his horn, swung the car
around, and then made off for the camp. Oh, the delight of that swift
trip on that glorious morning. Oh, the chatter that rose from those
eager lips. Oh, the joy that bubbled in those little, motherless hearts.
It wasn't earth--it was heaven. On sped the machine, noiselessly,
softly, swiftly as a bird. If it had not been for the other groups who
were eagerly waiting their turn Bert would surely have turned off into a
side road and given the kids a good many extra miles; but the others had
to be considered, too, and time was passing, so into the camp they
glided, all alive with eagerness, delight and anticipation. The ready
hands of the other boys lifted the little ones from the machine, which
instantly turned about for its second trip. Again and again this was
repeated, until the last little group on the lawn of the asylum had
melted away, and the woods resounded with their childish prattle.

The boys had surely spread themselves to give "the kids" a day that
they'd never forget. Frank took some of the larger boys to the little
glade where the archery practice was on, put the bows and arrows into
their hands that had been prepared and showed them how to shoot. The
girls were taken to a swing that the boys had rigged up and swung
to and fro to their hearts' content. Tom showed them how to make
jack-o'-lanterns and told them about the time when Bert had put one up
in a great cave and frightened him so badly when he caught a first
glimpse of it. A little group under the guidance of Dick went down to
the brook and watched the sunfish dart to and fro under the gleaming
surface and the great perch and catfish lying lazily under the reeds
that fringed the bank. Shorty, who was an expert fisherman, threw his
line while the boys looked on with bated breath, and in a few minutes
pulled up a plump catfish.

"Why do they call them that?" said little Tony Darimo.

"Well," said Shorty, "maybe it's because of the whiskers they have;
perhaps because the face looks something like a cat, or else because of
the noise they make when you take them off the hook."

Little Billy Jackson seemed unconvinced.

"It doesn't seem to me like a cat," he said.

Just then Shorty, who had turned his head to put the fish in the basket,
uttered a loud "meow." Billy jumped.

"I guess you are right after all," he said. "It surely does sound like a
pussy cat."

In the shallow part of the brook some of the little ones under the
guidance of the matron were permitted to take off their shoes and
stockings and paddle about. The water was less than a foot deep. One of
the children slipped and fell. In a moment Don, who had been racing along
the bank, jumped in and grabbed him by the collar of his blouse. The
child was on his feet in a minute and had never been in the slightest
danger at all, but Don felt just as proud of his exploit as though he had
saved him from a raging torrent. The boys laughed and called him a "fake
hero," and yet every one of them knew in his heart that, however great
might have been the danger, Don would have jumped just the same. Don
outdid himself that day. He made the children scream with delight. Under
the guidance of Bert he played soldier, shouldered the stick and marched,
rolled over and played dead, and did it all with such a keen sense of
enjoyment in his tricks that the children stood about and watched him,
with endless wonder and delight.

But the one whom the children remembered above all the others was
Bert. He was everywhere. He told them stories. He carried them on his
shoulders. He imitated the calls of the different birds. He summoned the
squirrels and the timid little creatures, who long since had lost all
fear of him, came readily forward, ate out of his hand and perched upon
his finger tips. The children looked on with wide-eyed amazement,
delight and admiration.

Then came dinner, and such a dinner! The kids had never seen anything
like it before. Fish caught fresh from the brook, the golden corn bread
made by the boys themselves, the maple syrup, the cakes, the pies, the
countless goodies that melted away before those famished youngsters
would have filled a dyspeptic's heart with envy.

But all things come to an end, and in the late afternoon, amid the
shouted good-byes and waving of hands from all the boys in the camp, the
"Red Scout" took up its burden--and it had never borne a happier one--and
carried the kids away, their little hearts full of unspeakable content,
at the end of the best day's outing they had ever known.

The boys were tired that night. Even Tom, who prided himself on never
owning up to weariness, admitted fairly and squarely that he was "clean
tuckered out." But it was a delightful weariness. They had forgotten
themselves. They had worked and planned for others. They had not looked
for their own happiness, and just because they had not, they found it.
They had learned the one supreme lesson of life, "that to give is better
than to receive," "that he who seeks pleasure as an end in itself never
finds it," and that he who bestows happiness upon another has his own
heart flooded with peace.

CHAPTER XIII

DAVE'S TIGER STORY

The next night, while Dave, who had promised to tell them a tiger yarn,
was pulling his "thinking cap" on tight, and trying to select his most
fetching story, the boys gathered closer about him, and with hearts
beating a little faster at the very mention of the word "tiger,"
prepared to listen.

At last Dave looked up, and in order to make his story a trifle more
thrilling, gave a little talk on the bloodthirstiness of his majesty,
the tiger. When he concluded by the tense look on his hearers' faces
that the right moment had arrived, he plunged into

     THE STORY OF THE TIGER

"One calm evening in the summertime, somewhat later than usual, a
gentleman stepped from the train at a railroad station in a suburban
town and walked up the street toward his home. Deep in thoughts of
business, he did not notice at first that a most unusual silence
pervaded the town. In a short time the deadly stillness roused him, and
he noticed, wonderingly, that he was the only person to be seen on the
streets. Not a man, woman, or child could he see, a most unusual thing,
as at that time, in the early evening, the town was always a very lively
place indeed. He noticed, too, with amazement, that the doors and
windows of the houses were all closed. Not a face appeared at any of
them. All the windows that had blinds or shutters attached had them
drawn tightly, and fastened securely. Not a sign of life anywhere. What
had happened? Had everybody gone crazy?

"Amazed and frightened, he hurried on, up one street and down another,
until his own house came into view. That, too, was closed and shuttered.
The welcoming face that had never failed to greet him was not at door or
window. Now, thoroughly alarmed, he ran up the steps of the porch and
wildly rang the bell. The door was opened cautiously, just a little
crack, and to his great relief the face of his wife appeared at the tiny
opening.

"At the sight of him the door opened wider. He was clutched by the
sleeve and hurried into the house with scant ceremony. Before he could
get his breath after this amazing treatment the door was closed and
locked and double-locked on the instant, and the white face of his wife
confronted the dazed man.

"His dinner was ready, but without waiting for him to be seated at the
table his wife commenced to tell him the cause of the unusual state of
affairs. 'Did he remember that the wild animal show was to have arrived
in the town that day?' 'No,' he had not remembered, 'but go on.'

"Well, it did come, and while the show was in progress one of the
animals, a tiger, had escaped from the tent and raced up Main Street,
while everyone on the street hurried to the nearest refuge. At the
end of Main Street he dashed into the woods, and though the crowd of
pursuing men and boys did their best to recapture him, he was still at
large. The manager of the show told the people, while they ran madly in
pursuit, that the tiger was a new one, scarcely at all trained, and by
far the fiercest and most savage of all the animals in the show. He
warned everyone to stay closely within doors that night, and assured
them that as soon as daylight appeared every possible effort would be
made to capture and cage him. That is why everybody is barricaded within
doors.

"Of course, being a man, he laughed at his wife's fears, said there
was no danger, and that it was extremely foolish for everyone to be
so scared, and that, as for him, he would not lose a wink of sleep
worrying about it. His wife noticed, however, that although he talked so
bravely, he kept closely within doors all the evening, and that when
they were ready to go upstairs for the night he looked with unusual care
at the fastenings of all the doors and windows, both upstairs and down.
Once, as he fastened the bolt of a window, he had stopped and grown a
little white at a slight scratching noise just outside the window."

Here a decided shiver ran around the camp, furtive looks were cast over
hiked shoulders, and Sam, who for some minutes had been watching a
moving shadow just outside the line of camp firelight, decided that the
shadow was decidedly tigerlike, and wanted to know if they did not think
the fire needed some more logs. "All right, old man," said Bob, and the
logs went on. They blazed up brightly, and gave every man Jack, even the
bravest of them, a more comfortable feeling of security, and Dave went
on with the story:

"In the middle of that night the man found himself suddenly awake, with
an intense feeling that someone or something was in the room. Raising
himself upon one elbow, he gazed searchingly about the dim room, and was
just about to give himself a lecture for imagining things, when, in
the farthest and darkest corner, he saw what appeared to be two great
balls of green fire glaring straight at him. At once the thought of the
escaped tiger leaped into his mind, and he knew that the fierce and
savage beast was within his room. For a moment his heart fairly stopped
beating, but, gaining control of himself with an effort, he tried to
think what he should do. He reached over and laid his hand softly over
his wife's lips and whispered in her ear. Then together they watched the
two glowing points of fire, wondering with sick hearts how soon the
tiger would be upon them.

"They had not long to wait, for now the tiger began crawling toward
them, inch by inch, inch by inch----"

At this point in the story the boys, utterly forgetful of the world
and everything in it, had crowded close about the story teller, and
with flesh creeping and hair rising on their heads were listening,
open-mouthed, to the story. Dave had paused to take breath, when every
heart stood still as a fierce scratching on the bark of a nearby tree
and a deep, savage growling were heard.

All sprang to their feet. Dick Trent was the only one who remained cool.
Having seen Bert Wilson (who never lost an opportunity for a little fun
and mischief) steal quietly away under cover of the darkness, he more
than suspected that something was going to happen, and so was prepared.

Suddenly a burst of ringing laughter made itself heard, and there
on the grass lay Bert, rolling over and over, holding his sides and
saying between gasps, "Oh, my! Oh, my! you did look so funny! Hold me,
somebody, or I _will_ go to pieces. Oh, my! Oh, my!"

At first the boys were inclined to be angry, but they were good fellows
and always ready to laugh at a joke, even when it was on themselves, and
so with many a laughing threat to "get even with Bert, and that mighty
soon," they came, a little sheepishly, back to the fire and with one
accord begged Dave to go on with the story.

"Well," resumed Dave, "we left the tiger creeping inch by inch, inch by
inch, toward his two victims, and feeling very sure of his capture; but
the man was not the one to give up his life or that of his wife without
a brave effort to save them. He whispered hastily to his wife, 'Be
prepared'"--here a voice interrupted to exclaim, "They ought to have
been campers"--"'to jump out and roll way back under the bed the instant
I say Now!'

"By this time the tiger had come to within a few feet of them, and they
could see him in the dim light, every muscle quivering, crouched for a
spring. The man had slipped his feet over the side of the bed to the
floor, and his hands clutched the bedclothes from underneath.

"As the beast sprang the man shouted, 'Now!' and at the same time flung
the bedclothes over the head and body of the tiger. The two terrified
people used the few minutes the angry, snarling beast took to get out
from the tangle of bedclothes to roll as far under the bed as they
could. The bed was a very low one, and the man knew that the tiger, who
was very large, could not creep under without raising the bed with his
shoulders. So the two resolved that when he tried to get under, as they
knew he would, they would grip the steel springs above them and hold on
like grim death, and try to hold the bed down.

"All too soon they found themselves holding on to those springs with all
the combined strength of their muscles. The tiger tried again and again
to lift the bed, but could not get enough of his shoulders under to get
a purchase, and finding himself baffled, crept away to his far corner to
consider what to do.

"The man knew that they could not keep the tiger at bay in this way very
long, for their strength was nearly gone. Groping about desperately, his
hand touched his son's tool box, pushed carelessly under the bed. How
thankful he was that their boy was visiting relatives at a distance. He,
at least, was safe. He grasped the box as a drowning man grasps a straw,
and lifting a lid searched for and found a screw driver, and, oh, joy!
a few large screws.

"Working desperately, and more rapidly than ever in his life before,
he drove a couple of the screws through the two top legs of the bed,
securing them to the floor. Another two minutes and he had one of the
bottom legs in the same condition. Before he could touch the fourth leg
the tiger, angered by the noise of the screw driving, bounded forward
and again tried to lift the bed. Finding he could not get at them, the
tiger suddenly sprang upon the bed and began tearing at the mattress.
Very soon there was nothing between him and the now almost despairing
couple but the woven wire springs. These springs were of extra strong,
fine quality, but even these could not hold out long against the
onslaught of those terrible, powerful claws.

"Almost mechanically the man again thrust his hand into the box, and
drew out a small saw. The idea came to him to cut a hole through the
floor into the ceiling of the room below, slip through, and rush for
help. He spoke to his wife, and found she had fainted. He worked
desperately, faster and faster, while all the time the tiger tore more
and more fiercely at the tough springs. His hot, terrible breath swept
across their faces, so close to that snarling one above them, while the
saliva dropped from his savage jaws.

"Almost fainting with disgust and terror, the man worked on still more
desperately, for dear life now. At last one side was finished, then
another, now the third, and a little hope came back to the man's heart.
If he could only finish that other side he would have at least a slight
chance of escape. But now the tough woven wire links began to give way
under the tearing of the tiger's savage claws. In one place a small hole
is broken in the wire. In mad haste the man tears the saw through the
wood. It seems as if it would never give way. Once the saw slips and
bends. What if it should break! One more desperate, despairing effort.
Only two more inches now, only one, only a half inch. At last it is
over, and the saw drops from his nerveless hand. He makes a last effort
to arouse his wife, but without avail. He cannot bear to leave her, for
he fears that before he can get help and return the tiger will be upon
her. What can he do? It is his only chance to save her. He _must_ take
it.

"The tiger, as if he knew a crisis had come, ceased his tearing and lay
above them, watching with angry fire flashing from his eyes, and keeping
up a low, savage snarling.

"With a muttered prayer for protection for his poor wife and help for
himself, the man lowered himself through the opening until he found
himself suspended from the ceiling of the lower room. In desperate haste
to go for help, he is about to drop to the floor, but pauses to hear if
there is any sound or movement in the room above. Not a sound. There is
comfort in that, for his poor wife must be safe as yet, but what is the
tiger doing? Why is everything so deadly quiet? Incensed at the escape
of one of his victims, one would suppose him to be all the more eager to
secure the other; but there is no sound. What can he be doing?

"At this moment an awful thought comes to him. What if the cunning tiger
had crept silently down the stairs into the room below? He remembers
that the door into that room was open when they passed it on their way
upstairs. How safe they had felt then! How little had they dreamed that
this awful thing would come upon them! Could it be only a few hours
since they had gone upstairs, chatting cheerfully together? It seemed
days and days ago. Perhaps the tiger was at that moment crouched below
him there in the darkness, ready to spring upon him the moment, yes,
even before, his feet touched the ground.

"The awful thought made him pause, and he hung there with fiercely
throbbing heart, undecided what to do. If he could hear one sound of
the tiger moving in the room above him he could drop, quickly close
the door, and rush away for help. Still no sound from his wife's room.
What should he do? Perhaps it would be better to try to hold on until
morning, when he could at least have the blessed light to aid him. It
could not be long now before daybreak. Surely out of doors there must be
daylight now. Soon it would come into the room and enable him to look
about him. Yes, that would be the best and only thing to do.

"But no; he cannot! His strength is failing. Already his numbed fingers
are slipping--slipping--another moment and the tiger will be upon him and
all will be over. He can hold on no longer. He is falling--falling----

"'John! Oh, John!' comes a cheerful voice from below. 'Aren't you coming
down? It is almost train time, and breakfast is ready.'

"John sits up in bed, looking with dazed eyes all around the bright
room, flooded with morning sunshine, and it is minutes before he
realizes that it is _all a dream_!"

If anyone could have taken a photograph of the boys' faces just before
the conclusion of the story and another just after it, the two pictures
would have been a comic study; but they could not have given the
transition from faces filled with rapt, motionless, breathless interest
to the astonished, somewhat disgusted look as the totally unexpected
ending of the story filtered in upon them.

Mr. Hollis, who had listened to the last part of the story with as much
interest as the boys, thanked Dave for the pleasure he had given them,
but could not keep back a smile as Shorty voiced the general sentiment,
"You ought to be ashamed, Dave Ferris, for handing us such a lemon."

CHAPTER XIV

WITH DEATH BEHIND

Pop! Pop! Bang! The "Red Scout's" motor gave a few preliminary
explosions, and then started off with a sound like a whole battery of
field guns going off at once. A cloud of black smoke issued from the
exhaust, and in a few seconds had enveloped the car so that it could
hardly be seen. Some of the boys came running up with consternation
written in their faces, evidently thinking that the automobile was about
to explode, or run away, or do some equally disastrous thing. They were
reassured by Bert's broad grin, however, and Bob Ward gave a relieved
laugh.

"Gee!" he exclaimed, "what's the matter with the old machine, anyway,
Bert? You had us scared stiff there for a few minutes. I thought that
after this when we wanted to get anywhere we'd have to walk, sure. It
looked as though the old 'Scout' were on fire."

"It sure did," confirmed Frank. "What _was_ the matter, Bert?"

"Oh, nothing to speak of," replied Bert airily. "I had just washed the
engine out with a little kerosene oil, and, when I started it, why, of
course that burned, and gave out the smoke you saw. I don't wonder that
you thought something was up, though," he continued, laughing. "It
certainly did look like the 'last days of Pompeii' for a few seconds,
didn't it?"

"That's what it did," broke in Shorty, "and seeing all that smoke
reminded me of a riddle I heard a little while ago."

"Go on, Shorty, tell us the riddle and get it out of your system,"
laughed Bert. "If you don't it might grow inward and kill you. Some
brands of humor are apt to work that way, you know."

"Well, the riddle is this," said Shorty. "Why is it that an automobile
smokes?"

Many were the answers to this, but at each one Shorty shook his head.
Finally he said, "Well, do you give it up?"

"I guess we'll have to, fellows," grinned Bert. "Go on and tell us,
Shorty; why _is_ it that an automobile smokes?"

"Because it can't chew," crowed Shorty triumphantly, and dodged just in
time to avoid a piece of greasy waste that Bert threw with unerring aim
at his head. Amid cries of "Lynch him!" and "This way out!" and "Don't
let him escape alive, fellows," Shorty took nimbly to his heels and
skipped behind a tree. After the excitement had subsided Bert returned
to his grooming of the "Red Scout," and soon had matters fixed to his
entire satisfaction.

It was a hot, sticky afternoon, and the boys had nothing particular to
do outside of the routine duties of the camp. They had been lying around
on the grass, lazily talking and listening to the drowsy hum of an
occasional locust, when one had said:

"Gee, I wish to goodness there was a little wind stirring. I feel as
though in about five minutes I would become a mere grease spot on the
landscape."

"Well," Bert had replied, "if you feel that way about it, why not
manufacture a little wind of our own?"

"Manufacture it," had come a chorus of surprised protest, "how in time
can you manufacture wind?"

"Oh, it's very simple when you know how," Bert replied, in an offhand
manner. "What's to prevent us from piling into the auto and taking a
spin? When we get out on the road I think I can promise you all the
breeze you want. What do you say, fellows? Want to try it?"

The answer was an uproarious shout of approval, and accordingly Bert had
been getting the machine in shape.

In a short time they were ready to start, and as they were getting in
they discerned Shorty's stocky form emerging from the trees. He signaled
frantically for them to wait, and soon came up panting.

"Say, you weren't going without me, were you?" he asked reproachfully.

"Well," laughed Bert, "you deserve almost anything after springing a
thing like that on us, but I guess we can forgive you, if we try real
hard. Shall we take him along, fellows?"

"I don't see what Shorty needs to come for, anyway," said Ben, slyly.
"It seems to me that a fellow that can run as fast as Shorty did a
little while ago can make all the wind he needs himself. He doesn't have
to get in an automobile to get swift motion."

"That's so," agreed Bert, with a serious face, "still, probably Philip
has other views, and so we might as well give him the benefit of the
doubt. Jump in, old scout."

This was easier said than done, however, as the big red auto was already
literally overflowing with perspiring boys, but they managed to squeeze
in, and started off, singing three or four different songs all at the
same time, and each one in a different key.

Nobody seemed to be bothered much by this, however, and they soon
reached the hard, level, macadam high road. Bert "opened her up" a few
notches, as he expressed it, and they were soon bowling along at an
exhilarating pace. The breeze that Bert had promised them soon made
itself felt, and you may be sure it felt very grateful to the overheated
boys.

"This beats lying around on the grass and whistling for a wind, doesn't
it?" asked Frank, and, needless to say, all the rest of the boys were
emphatically of his opinion.

They had been going along at a brisk pace for several miles when they
heard the purr of another motor car in back of them, and glancing back
saw a handsome-looking blue auto creeping up to them. A flashily dressed
young man, smoking a cigarette, was driving it, and three girls were
sitting in the tonneau. The blue machine overtook them steadily, and
soon was abreast of them.

"Gee, Bert," exclaimed Frank, excitedly, but in a low voice, "you're not
going to let them pass us, are you?"

"Oh, let them, if they want to," replied Bert; "we didn't come out for a
race, and I feel just like loafing along and taking things easy. What's
the use of getting excited about things on a hot day like this? Besides,
I don't think those people are looking for trouble, anyway."

At this point the blue car passed them, however, and as it did so one
of the girls in the tonneau looked back and called, "How does the dust
taste, boys? Like it?" The fellow driving it laughed at this sally, and
shouted, "Hey, youse, why don't you get a horse?"

All the boys looked at Bert to see how he would take this. He said never
a word, but his grip tightened on the steering wheel, and the "Red
Scout" gave a lunge forward that almost jerked some of the boys out of
their seats. Faster and faster the powerful car flew, and it was evident
that they would soon overtake the blue car. The latter was also a first
rate machine, however, and the boys could see one of the girls in the
tonneau lean over and speak to the driver. The blue car started to draw
slowly away, and Bert opened the throttle a few more notches. The motor
took on a deep, vibrating note, and the hum of the gears rose to a
higher pitch. Soon they began to overtake the car in front, and now it
became evident that the latter was doing its best. The "Red Scout"
fairly "ate up" the intervening space, and in a few moments had come up
to within a few yards of the laboring blue car. The driver looked back,
and seeing that the big red car in back of him would surely pass him in
another few seconds, swerved his own car over so that it was squarely in
the middle of the narrow country road. There was a shallow ditch on
each side of the road, and the only way Bert could pass him was to take
a chance of overturning and run two wheels in this ditch. Usually he
would not have thought of exposing the boys to such a risk, but now he
threw caution to the winds. Amid hoarse and excited cries from the boys
he "gave her the limit," to use his own expression, and the "Red Scout"
seemed fairly to leap ahead.

He swerved the big machine into the ditch, and the wheels bumped and
pounded over the uneven surface. The big car fairly shot by the blue
machine, however, and amid a triumphant shout from the frenzied boys
regained the smooth road and hid the defeated challenger in a cloud of
dust.

Then Bert slowed it down a little, but kept well in the lead. The blue
machine had evidently given up in despair, however, and gradually
dropped back until a turn in the road hid it from their view. The boys
broke into an excited discussion of the recent "brush," and all were
enthusiastic in their praise of the staunch old "Red Scout." They also
had many flattering things to say in regard to Bert's driving, until he
was forced to protest that he would have to buy a hat about five sizes
larger, as he could fairly feel his head swelling.

Finally the excitement subsided somewhat, and the boys had time to look
around them and get their bearings. It did not take them long to find
that they were in unfamiliar surroundings. They had gone at such a fast
pace that they had covered more ground than they would have believed
possible. Bert consulted the odometer, or distance recording instrument,
and announced that they had covered almost thirty-five miles!

"Say!" he exclaimed, "we'll have to do some tall hustling to get back to
the camp in time for lunch. We'll keep on a little way, until we get to
a place where the road is wide enough to turn around in, and then we'll
beat it back as fast as possible."

As he finished speaking, they rounded a sudden turn in the road and a
gasp arose from every boy in the car. Not fifteen feet ahead of them was
a railroad crossing, and giving a lightning-like glance up and down the
track Bert saw that there was a train approaching from both directions.
It was obvious that the automobile would not be able to get across in
time, and at the brisk rate at which they were traveling, it was equally
impossible to stop the machine. It seemed inevitable that the auto would
be struck by one or both of the ponderous locomotives, and it and its
occupants be crushed to atoms.

The boys turned sick with horror, and gripped the sides of the
automobile without being able to say a word. Their eyes gazed without
winking at the two rushing locomotives, and they were unable to move.

But Bert saw that they had one, and only one, bare chance of life. He
did not try to apply the brakes, which would have been useless and
fatal, but as the big auto reached the railroad tracks he wrenched the
steering wheel around and headed it directly up the track in front of
the northbound train. As he did this he opened the throttle, and bent
over the wheel in a desperate and almost hopeless attempt to beat the
flying locomotive until the engineer, who of course was using every
means in his power to stop his train, could check its momentum and give
them a chance to escape.

The "Red Scout" bumped and swayed wildly over the uneven ballasting
and ties, and the boys breathed heartfelt prayers that nothing on the
staunch car would break. In spite of all Bert could do, the fast express
train gained on them, although sparks were streaming from the wheels
where the brakes were clamped against them. The engineer had reversed
the locomotive, and the great driving wheels were revolving backward.

The momentum of a fast and heavy express train is not a thing to
be checked in a moment, however, and the boys in the rear of the
automobile could feel the heat from the locomotive boiler.

But the powerful automobile had gotten "into its stride" by this time,
and was fairly flying over the uneven roadbed, and to the boys it felt
as though it were only hitting the high places, as Frank afterward
expressed it. For a hundred or two hundred feet the train failed to gain
an inch, and then the brakes began to tell and it gradually fell to the
rear.

Shorty leaned over and thumped Bert on the back and yelled: "Slow up,
Bert, slow up! We're out of danger now, I guess."

Bert glanced back, and saw that Shorty was right. They were drawing
rapidly away from the locomotive, so he reduced speed, and the automobile
gradually attained a safer pace, and at the first opportunity Bert swung
it up off the tracks and onto a country road. This done, he stopped the
machine, and leaning on the steering wheel, buried his face in his hands.
He said not a word, and the boys could see that he was trembling like a
leaf. In a few moments he recovered himself, however, and the boys began
to overwhelm him with questions:

"How did you ever think of going up the track instead of trying to get
across, Bert?" inquired Frank. "If you had tried to cross that would
have been the last of us, because we could never have made it."

"I did it because it was the only thing to be done, I guess," replied
Bert, in a shaky voice. "I'm no end of a fool to go at that speed on a
road that I don't know, anyway. I don't know what I could have been
thinking of to take such chances. Mr. Hollis will never have any
confidence in me again, I guess."

"Nonsense!" retorted Bob, indignantly. "Why, if Mr. Hollis could have
seen the presence of mind you showed, I think he would trust you all the
more, if that is possible. Not one person in a hundred would have
thought of doing what you did."

"Yes, but that's not all of it, by any means," said Bert, in a mournful
voice. "I'll bet that we've broken something on the old car, as well as
almost getting ourselves converted into sausage meat. Here goes to look
things over, anyway."

A thorough inspection failed to reveal any break in the mechanism or
frame, however, and even the tires were intact. Finally Bert straightened
up with a relieved expression on his face, and said: "Well, I can't seem
to find anything at present, that's one comfort. However, I wouldn't have
believed that any car could stand such punishment and hold together. We
won't kick against fate, though, for not smashing our car for us, will
we?"

"I guess not," agreed Shorty, heartily, "I think we ought to thank our
lucky stars that any of us are left to talk about it, even. It's more
than we had a right to expect fifteen minutes ago."

"I guess you're right, Shorty, at that," agreed Bert, "but now, we'd
better make a quick sneak back to camp. Mr. Hollis will have given us up
for lost."

Accordingly the boys all climbed into the car, and they were soon
humming along on their homeward journey. You may be sure that Bert
slowed down almost to a walking pace at every turn they came to,
however, and once, just for fun, he said, "Say, Shorty, I don't like the
looks of that curve ahead of us. Perhaps you had better get out and go
on ahead to make sure that the coast is clear. I intend to be on the
safe side this time."

Shorty immediately entered into the spirit of the joke, and vaulted out
over the side of the tonneau while the auto was yet in motion, and
disappeared around the curve. As the auto crept around the bend its
occupants could see Shorty waving his handkerchief and signaling for
them to come on. Bert laughingly complied, and, as they passed Shorty,
stopped a moment to give him a chance to climb aboard. Shorty was soon
in his place, and Frank laughed.

"Gee, Bert, that's being careful for fair. If Mr. Hollis could have seen
that I think it would have made up for our going too fast and almost
getting smashed up. What do _you_ say, fellows?"

There was a unanimous chorus of assent to this proposition, but Bert
did not join in the laughter. He felt in his heart that he had been
careless, and he knew that even his subsequent presence of mind in
getting them out of a tight scrape did not wholly atone. His mind was
filled with these thoughts, when Bob said, "Say, fellows, I don't see
why we have to say anything to Mr. Hollis about our near accident, at
all. It will just make him angry at us, and maybe he will not want to
let us use the car again. Besides, now that it's all over, it won't do
him any good to know what a narrow escape we've had."

"No, no, Bob, that would never do in the wide world," replied Bert,
quickly, and in a reproving voice. "The last thing we ought to think of
is to deceive Mr. Hollis, and you know it. I'm surprised that you should
even have mentioned such a thing."

"Well, there's no harm done, is there?" replied Bob, but in a rather
shame-faced manner. "We won't do it if you don't think we ought to,
so there's no use getting mad about it. I just offered that as a
suggestion, that's all."

"Well," replied Bert, "the chief blame for this thing lies on me,
anyway, and as soon as we get back to camp I intend to make a clean
breast of the whole matter to Mr. Hollis, and he can do as he thinks
best."

"Oh, all right, have it your own way," growled Bob, sullenly, and they
relapsed into silence. By this time it was almost dark, and Bert was
forced to drive very slowly, as he had never been over that particular
road before. He had a well-developed sense of location, however, and was
pretty sure that he was going in the right direction.

As it proved he was not deceived in this, and they shortly struck a road
with which they were all familiar. Bert ventured to accelerate their
pace somewhat, and it was not long before they came in sight of the
cheery camp fire, around which Mr. Hollis and the boys who had not gone
on the automobile trip were seated. As they heard the sound of the
machine the group around the fire leaped to their feet, and Mr. Hollis
walked slowly toward them. When the auto swung into the circle of fire
light and came to an abrupt halt, he said:

"What has been detaining you, boys? It seems to me that you are not
treating me quite right by going off in this manner and returning at
such an hour as this. Why, you should have been back two hours ago."

A chorus of excited exclamations rose from the boys, but Mr. Hollis
raised his hand for silence. When this had been restored, he said, "One
at a time, boys, one at a time. Here, Bert, let's hear your
explanation."

This Bert proceeded to give in a very straightforward manner, and did
not attempt to gloss over any of the details of his recklessness, as he
was pleased to call it.

Mr. Hollis listened with a serious face, and when Bert had finished,
said, "Well, Bert, you were certainly to blame for taking chances in the
manner that you did, but, on the other hand, you deserve credit for the
presence of mind and courage you showed in extricating your companions
and yourself from what might very easily have been a fatal accident.
Still, you were right to tell me all about it, and I think that to-day's
experiences may have the effect of making you more careful in the
future."

"You may be sure, sir, that I will never be so careless again," promised
Bert, and by the tone of his voice, Mr. Hollis knew that he meant it.

It was a hungry lot that sat down to supper that evening, and little was
spoken of except their thrilling experiences of the day. After supper,
however, they began to feel the effects of the exciting day, and all
expressed themselves "tuckered out." As Frank said, "He felt too tired
to take the trouble of going to sleep."

They all managed to overcome this very important objection, however, and
soon there was no sound to be heard in the camp except the rustling of
the embers in the camp fire as they slowly burnt themselves out and
settled into ashes.

CHAPTER XV

MOUNTAIN SCOUTING

Sunshine! glorious, golden sunshine! Was ever sunshine more bright? Was
ever sky more blue? Was ever day more beautiful? So questioned our
campers as, fresh and glowing from a cold plunge in the lake, a hearty
breakfast despatched, bedding aired and cots freshly made up, camp
cleared up and morning duties all attended to in tip-top fashion, they
mustered about Mr. Hollis to receive the day's commissions.

It mattered little what might be the commission allotted to each squad.
Anything, everything that might come to them in the way of camp duty,
could not but be a pleasure on such a glorious day as this. With young
bodies aglow with health, young minds, awake and alert for all new
impressions, young hearts filled with desire to live right, to do right,
to be kind and helpful to all with whom they came in contact, how could
they help being happy?

The camp was full of merriment, but perhaps the happiest squad of all
was the auto squad. In fact this was always the case, but today the
autoists had a special expedition. They were to play the mountain
scouting game, and as the nearest mountains were at a distance from
camp the squad had been detailed for the automobile.

Gaily the fellows piled in and away they flew. As the roads which they
must travel today were rough, their progress was much less rapid than
usual; but, despite this they reached their destination in about half an
hour.

"Hurrah for the 'Red Scout,'" cried Bob, as they tumbled out of the car.
"If she can travel like that over these roads, what'll she do on the
race track? Oh, say, fellows, the 'Gray Ghost' won't be in it. She'll
fade away like a real ghost."

"Don't I wish the day of the race was here," said Tom. "Seems as if it
would never come, doesn't it, fellows?" and "It sure does," they all
chorused.

The "mountains" were really very high, rocky hills, but, as they were
known to embrace many very steep and dangerous ravines, some of them
nearly as perilous as mountain precipices, many and earnest had been
the warnings given by Mr. Hollis as the boys had started on their
expedition, and each boy carried in the pockets of his jacket some part
of the equipment for first aid to the injured that was a part of the
camp outfit. Thus safe-guarded, they felt no fear.

As soon as they had arrived the three "hares," who had been coached in
the game, went to hide themselves in the mountain, and, after sufficient
time had been given them for this purpose, the "hounds" followed them;
while Bert and Dave Ferris remained in the auto to watch for any signal
that might be given them from the mountain.

The game of mountain-scouting consists in the "hounds," who must stay
within certain limits of ground, finding or "spotting" the "hares"
within a given time. If they find or spot them even with field glasses,
it counts, provided that the finder can tell who it is he has spotted.
The hounds write down the names of any of the hares that they may see.
If at the end of the allotted time no hare has been spotted, the hares
win.

To-day two hours had been the given time and the boys in the mountains
were to signal to Bert the news as each hare was found.

Time was nearly up. Three hares had been found. The chase had been a
merry one and now hares and hounds together, no longer pursuers and
pursued, but just happy-hearted campers were hiking down to the two in
the automobile.

The return signal had been given, and Bert and Dave, relieved of the
slight anxiety they had felt while the game was going on, expected each
moment to see the boys come into view.

Suddenly Dave sprang to his feet. "Look, Bert," said he, "another
signal."

Breathlessly the boys read the signal wig-wagged to them from a point
high up on the side of the hill. "Come quick! Fred hurt. Bring splints
and kit and ropes."

It took only a very short time for the boys to reach the scene of the
accident, and one glance took in the situation. Turning a corner the
boys had come, all unknowing, upon a spot where the rocks shelved
suddenly down into a deep ravine. The edge of the descent was hidden by
a fringe of breast-high bushes, and Fred Morse, all unconscious of his
danger, had stepped upon a piece of rock which gave under his foot, and,
before the boys could even put out a hand to save him, had slipped
through the bushes, and the horrified boys had heard their comrade go
crashing through the bushes on the side of the ravine. His frightened
cry, "Help, fellows, I'm falling!" still echoed in their ears. While two
of the boys were signalling, the others had called to Fred but no reply
had come back to them. When Bert reached them, Bob was running along the
edge of the cliff, in great danger of going over himself, in a vain
effort to find a place to climb down.

Now, not waiting for the call for volunteers, he ran to Bert and begging
him to hurry and help him, began fastening the ropes about himself. In a
twinkling, the rope was adjusted, the knots securely tied, and the rope
firmly held by four boys, Bob was lowered slowly and carefully over the
side of the cliff.

Down, down he went till, just as the boys began to fear that the rope
would not be long enough, it lay slack in their hands, and they knew
that Fred was found. Presently came the signal, three distinct pulls on
the rope, and soon poor Fred was lifted tenderly over the edge and laid
gently down. A few minutes more and good old Bob was back with them.

Now, all attention was turned to Fred. After a careful examination from
head to toe, Bert relieved the anxious fears of his comrades by the
announcement that he was sure that Fred's life was not in danger. A
faint cheer went up, which faded when Bert said Fred's leg was broken.

Consternation filled their hearts, for the nearest doctor was miles
away, and though Bert felt sure there was no more serious injury than
the broken limb, it was hard to tell what internal injury might have
been sustained, and a long ride in the motor with the leg in the present
condition might prove a serious matter. There was no doubt about it,
the leg must be set at once.

Not one of the boys had anything but the simplest knowledge of
first-aid-to-the-injured, but, though at first hearts feared and hands
trembled, they conquered fear and each boy went steadily to work to do
his part. Whether it was to hand the cotton batting or to pull with full
strength upon the poor broken limb, or hold the splints while Bert wound
yards of bandage around them, not a boy flinched, and at last the work
was done, and well done.

Then with faces scarcely less white than Fred's own, they turned to the
task of making a litter on which to carry him down to the motor.

After a long search, for the hill was almost barren of trees, being
covered mostly with scrubby bushes, two short and two long saplings were
found and, laying two of the boys' jackets on the ground and running
each of the long poles through the sleeves of a jacket, the two jackets
were buttoned together with buttons down. Then the short poles were
lashed on and a comfortable stretcher was ready to their hand.

In the auto on smooth roads, carried tenderly by his fellows over the
rougher places, they at last reached the office of the crusty old
village doctor and laid Fred on the couch for the doctor's examination.
But though the doctor was crabbed, he was skilful, and in a very short
time the temporary splints were replaced by permanent ones and the party
turned toward camp.

Homeward-bound in the auto at last, the boys drew a great sigh of relief
and weariness. What an eventful day it had been! Begun so brightly, it
had nearly ended in a tragedy, and at the thought their hearts swelled
with gratitude that they were taking dear old Fred home with them alive,
and, if not well, at least only the worse for a broken leg and some
severe bruises. They could not be thankful enough.

"Who's that going along the road ahead?" asked one of the boys, and all
saw, walking in the middle of the road and directly in the path of the
motor, a little bent old woman's figure, the most conspicuous article of
whose dress was a bright red, very draggled looking feather which
drooped from the brim of a very ancient hat.

Very tired and pathetic, the old figure looked to the boys as they
brought the machine to a stop beside her, and the old wrinkled face, wet
with tears that was turned to them when they spoke to her, made every
warm boy's heart ache with pity.

"Why it's Kitty Harrigan's old mother, who has just come over from
Ireland," said Dick, in a low voice. "Don't you remember, fellows, how
we laughed when Mr. Hollis told us about her the other night? He said,
you know, that the poor old lady had been quite a village belle in her
young days, and now, in her age, she imagines herself back in her
girlhood. Look at her now."

Indeed, the old lady was a study, for no sooner did her old eyes fall on
Bert's handsome face as he spoke to her, than tears were brushed hastily
aside, and with a coquettish glance from her brown eyes that, despite
the years, were still bright, she made him so deep a curtsey that her
long black coat swept the ground.

She had eluded all watchful eyes, and slipped off by herself for a walk,
and when she wished to return, had taken the wrong direction, and was
walking away from home instead of toward it. She had enjoyed herself
immensely at first, making the most of her seldom-obtained freedom, but
now her old feet were very tired and the old limbs that had carried her
sturdily for nearly ninety years were growing weak at last, and, after
such unusual exertion, were trembling beneath her.

At the boys' proposal to take her into the car and give her an automobile
ride, the tired old face broke into a smile, and, as the boys settled her
in the most comfortable seat in the tonneau, she leaned back luxuriously,
and, clasping her old hands, said in ecstasy, "Did annybody iver see the
loike of Biddy Harrigan ridin' in an artymobile, no less." She beamed
upon the boys, she patted the hands and shoulders of all of them within
her reach, and in her rich Irish brogue showered compliments upon them;
for a very demonstrative creature was old Biddy Harrigan. She did
not notice that mischievous Bert, whom she had called a "rale foine
gintleman," took advantage of her flow of talk to sing in a very low
tone, "'H-a-double r-i-g-a-n spells Harrigan'," but the boys found it
very hard to keep their faces straight.

On Fred's account, poor Fred, who had, perhaps, shown more courage than
anyone else in that day's ordeal, for not one word of complaint had he
uttered through all his pain, the boys felt that they must go on to the
camp where he could get the rest and attention he so sadly needed. They
did not know that what was causing him keener anguish than the physical
pain was the fear that he would be unable to be on hand on that day of
days which he, like every other fellow in camp, had thought of every
waking moment, dreamed of every night and looked forward to with
daily-increasing impatience--the day of the race between their adored
"Red Scout" and the challenged "Gray Ghost." To miss seeing the "Red
Scout" come in gloriously victorious (not a single doubt of her victory
entered any boy's mind), what was the pain of a broken leg to the
misery of that possibility! But they did know that he needed care, so
they carried Biddy Harrigan with them. As supper was ready when they
reached camp, they placed Biddy in the seat of honor and regaled her
with the best of the camp fare.

Never had an old women enjoyed herself so much. She could not get over
the fact that the delicious supper had been cooked by boys. "If Oi hadnt
of seen it and tashted it, Oi niver, niver would have belaved," she said
over and over again.

After supper they hurried the old woman, gesturing and exclaiming at the
delight of another "artymobile" ride, into the auto and soon had her
home.

Irish Kitty, who washed for the camp, was overjoyed at her old mother's
safe return and overwhelmed them with gratitude.

The boys last view of Biddy was a grateful, curtseying, waving, delighted
old woman who repeated over and over again, "O'll not forgit yez, B'ys,
O'll not forgit yez. Yez'll hear from old Biddy agin," and they did.

CHAPTER XVI

BY A HAIR'S-BREADTH

Tap, tap, tap, tap--tap, tap--tap, tap, tap--sounded in Ben's ears
before he was fully awake and conscious. He sat up in bed and listened,
and asked himself what that sound was. Was it rain? At the thought his
heart grew heavy with apprehension. Rain on _this_ day, when he and Bert
and Tom were going to auto ten miles over to the Red River for a day of
trout fishing. The other fellows, who did not care so much for fishing,
were going on a tramp with Mr. Hollis, and he and his chums were to have
the auto all to themselves the whole day.

Slipping noiselessly from his cot, he lifted the tent flap and stepped
outside. The first rays of morning sunshine beamed full in his face, and
the insistent noise that had aroused him proved to be the tap-tapping of
an energetic woodpecker out for the proverbial "early worm."

Delighted at the prospect of such a glorious day, he rushed back into
the tent with a hop, skip and a jump, at sight of which Don, always
ready for a frolic, began frisking about and barking joyfully.

Of course, there was no sleep after that for the other fellows, and,
bath and dressing and breakfast dispatched as soon as possible, the
three boys, seated in their beloved auto, and bidding a noisy good by to
the rest of the camp, sped away on their quest for trout enough for a
rousing fish dinner that evening.

You would have had to go a long way to find a merrier or more care-free
set of boys than our three adventurers. Used as they were, by this time,
to the automobile, it never became an old story to them, and now, as the
swift motion of the car sent the cool air rushing against their young
faces, with the sunshine turning everything to gold, and with the
prospect of a day of rare sport before them, they gave full vent to
their overflowing spirits. They shouted and laughed, and chaffed each
other until many a staid farmer or farm hand, starting early work in the
fields, or doing chores about the barns, found themselves smiling in
sympathy. They recalled the time when they were boys, and the whole
world just a place to be happy and jolly in.

The boys had enjoyed the ride so much, that all three were almost sorry
when Tom pointed out the gleam of water through the trees, and they knew
that Red River was at hand; but in a moment nothing was thought of but
the fun of getting ready for their day's sport.

Tumbling out of the "Red Scout," laden with fishing baskets and tackle
and rods, they raced down to the river bank, selected each a shady,
grassy, comfortable spot, and, line and reel and hook adjusted, were
obliged at last to curb their wild spirits, still their noisy chatter,
and settle down to fisherman's quiet, although irrepressible Tom, unable
to subside at once, sang softly:

    "Hush, hush, not a breath, not a breath,
    I've a nibble, still as death, still as death."

The others could not resist joining in the chorus of the old song, and
regardless of consequences sang lustily:

    "Oh, the joys of angling!
    Oh, the joys of angling!
    Oh, the joys, oh, the joys,
    The joys, the joys of angling."

Then a Sabbath stillness descended on the party, until Ben shouted,
"first bite," and giving his line a sudden jerk and swing, landed a
beautiful speckled trout upon the grass a few feet away.

For a few moments excitement reigned, and cries of "Hurrah for Ben,"
"good for us," "isn't he a beauty?" "let's keep it up," were heard,
until Bert's "We certainly won't keep it up unless we keep quiet," sent
them back to their places and again quiet reigned.

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes went by, and there were no more nibbles.
The boys were beginning to get restless, when Bert landed the second
fish, and, a couple of minutes after re-baiting his hook, added a third
beauty to their collection.

Tom, seeing the success of his comrades, began to feel as though he
were being left on the outside of things, but Bert encouraged him by
reminding him, "First the worst, second the same, last the best of all
the game," and sure enough, after nearly half an hour of most trying
waiting, he suddenly felt his line twitch, and had the joy of landing
the largest and finest fish yet caught.

When the excitement had a little subsided, Ben said, "I think we ought
to celebrate that dandy catch, and the very finest way would be to have
a feast."

As, what with the stirring ride and the excitement of the sport, each
fellow felt, with Bert, that he was hungry enough to "eat nails," the
hamper was brought from the "Red Scout" and unpacked with scant
ceremony.

Every boy who has spent a day in the open will know exactly how _good_
those cold chicken and ham sandwiches tasted; and the way the doughnuts
vanished was something to see. Washed down with a drink of cool water
from a nearby spring, it was a luncheon to be remembered.

Again settling themselves in their chosen places, they continued to try
"the heedless finny tribe to catch"; for four trout, even though they
were fine, large ones, would, Tom said, regardless of the aptness of his
simile, be no more than "a drop in the bucket for all those hungry
fellows"; but their luck seemed to have changed.

For more than two hours not a nibble disturbed the quiet of those
exasperating lines, and, as the ground, although covered with springy
grass, is not the softest seat in the world, the boys' patience was
tested to the utmost. They lay outstretched, resting on both elbows, and
Tom, tempted by the heat and the absolute quiet, was just falling into a
doze, when he was aroused to immediate action by the violent twitching
of his line. A moment more, and another speckled victim was added to
their store.

For the next hour and a half the fish bit almost as fast as they could
bait their hooks, and they were kept busy hauling in one after another,
until, in the joy and excitement of the sport, they lost all count of
time. Fortunately for the camp, Bert suddenly made the double discovery
that they had more than enough fish, and that if there was to be a fish
dinner at camp that night, they would have to stop at once.

"We'll have to make a quick sneak," said Ben, who, in moments of
excitement, sometimes forgot his most polished English.

Hastily packing their catch in the fishing baskets they had brought,
they tossed them and the tackle into the auto, scrambled in themselves,
and were off and away.

"The 'Red Scout' goes fine," said Tom, as the great car gathered
headway. From the beginning, the auto race, which even the wonderful
day's sport could not completely banish from their minds, had been the
almost exclusive topic of conversation among the campers, and now that
the day was rapidly drawing near, they could think of little else. "Is
she in first-class condition, Bert?" asked Ben.

"Yes," Bert replied, "except that I noticed on the way out this morning
that the brake did not work as well as usual. As soon as we reach home I
will find and remedy the trouble, whatever it is. If worst comes to
worst I can send to the factory for a new part, which would reach us
inside of twenty-four hours."

By this time about half the ten mile stretch had been covered, and now
they had begun to descend a very steep hill. Suddenly Bert's face went
white. Tom, chancing to look at him, exclaimed, "What's the matter,
Bert?" and Bert replied, "The brake won't work, fellows. Something's
stuck. I can't control the car."

Then for a moment all yielded to a panic of fear. "Oh, Bert," said Ben,
"you _must_ stop her." "There must be _something_ you can do," begged
Tom.

Looking into the frightened faces of his two companions, Bert recovered
his self-control, and resolved to do his best to avert an accident.
"Don't be frightened, fellows," he said. "The steering gear is all
right. Just sit tight and keep a stiff upper lip, and we'll come
through."

"But, Bert, the bridge!" gasped Tom, and at the same moment a vision of
the narrow bridge, scarcely wide enough for two autos to pass, which
crossed the river at the foot of the steep hill, and just where the
stream was deepest, flashed before their eyes. All realized that should
the automobile fail to pass over the center of the bridge, and should
strike the frail railing on either side--Well, they didn't dare to think
of that.

Calling up all their courage, the brave boys resolved to face, without
flinching, whatever awaited them. Once past the bridge and onto the
broad roadway beyond, they knew that they would be safe. On level
ground, with the power shut off, they would come to a standstill.

But "would they ever reach that level roadway?" each boy asked himself,
with sinking heart.

Bert renewed his efforts to use the worthless brake, but without avail.
Down, down, they flew, gaining speed with every passing moment, and now
the bridge was in sight. Another moment, and they would be upon it.

"Courage, fellows," said Bert, in low, tense tones, and bracing himself,
he concentrated all his mind and energy in guiding the car to the center
of the bridge.

When a few hundred feet away the forward wheel struck a large stone, and
the machine, which had been headed directly for the bridge, swerved to
one side, and now sped onward toward the river.

With lightning-like rapidity Bert wrenched the steering wheel around,
and once more, with only a few feet of space to spare, the "Red
Scout"--good old "Red Scout," was headed _almost_ for the middle of the
bridge--not quite--the space had been too small. To the boys, looking
ahead with straining, despairing eyes, it seemed that they _must_ crash
into the railing, and that nothing could save them.

Instinctively they closed their eyes, as the car dashed upon the bridge,
expecting each minute to hear the crash of breaking timbers, and to
feel themselves falling into the engulfing waters of the rushing river.

But the expected did not happen. Like a bird the "Red Scout" skimmed
over the bridge, missing the railing by a hair's breadth, and was out
upon the broad roadway. Almost before the boys could realize their
escape from the awful danger that had threatened them, it was over, and
the "Red Scout" gradually losing its speed, at last stood still.

Breathless, speechless, dazed, almost overcome, the boys sat looking at
each other for a few moments, until, the full realization of their
wonderful escape coming upon them, they grasped each other's hands
convulsively. Each knew that in the other's heart, none the less earnest
for being unexpressed, was a fervent prayer of thankfulness for their
deliverance; but as speech returned to them, the first words uttered by
Tom, were, "What do you think of that for classy driving, fellows?" at
which they all laughed nervously.

Their laugh did not last long, however, for in the midst of it, out from
among the trees and shrubbery that skirted the roadway emerged two rural
constables. As if one overwhelming experience were not enough, the
constables informed them that they were arrested for exceeding the speed
limit.

Bert was the first to recover from the shock, and giving his companions
a comical, but reassuring look, he stepped forward and said, "We have
been speeding some, officers, but we simply couldn't help it," and he
proceeded to explain. But the boys' faces expressed their consternation
when they found that their explanation was not credited.

"We only have your word for that," said one of the men, "and you will
have to convince the judge that you are telling the truth."

"Why, you certainly won't arrest us for an accident to our brake, for
which we are not at all to blame!" cried Tom, indignantly.

"Well," said one constable, giving his fellow a knowing wink, "perhaps
if you have a 'tenner' that you have no use for, we might forget all
about it."

Bert, flushed and indignant, refused, and without further protest, the
three boys, followed by the two constables, took their places in the
car. As they were only a short distance from town, they soon arrived at
the court house, and were left in an ante room to await their turn for a
hearing.

Once alone, the three comrades stood for the second time within an hour,
looking into each other's faces. As Tom afterwards said, "too full for
utterance."

Suddenly Ben began strutting around the room in a most pompous manner,
remarking, "I guess you don't know who we are. You know," said he, "that
one is not a howling swell until he has been pinched for speeding, so
behold us three aristocrats!" with another strut across the room.

The boys could not help laughing, but Bert said, "Well, if this is being
an aristocrat, I'd rather be excused. It won't be quite such a laughing
matter if we find ourselves fined fifty or a hundred dollars."

"But," began Tom, and said no more, for at that moment they were called
before the judge.

They were obliged to stand by and hear the constable's charge against
them, given in detail. Then the judge turned to them----

"What are your names?" was the first question.

Bert replied for the three. Upon hearing the names the magistrate
started, and looked keenly at them, but said nothing further than to ask
what they had to say to the charge brought against them. Bert gave a
clear and connected account of the accident to the auto brake, and its
consequences, and ended by saying, that if any proof were needed, an
examination of the brake would show the truth of their account.

The judge accepted the boy's statement, dismissed the charge against
them, and turned to them a face from which all sternness had vanished,
and been replaced by such a genial, friendly smile, that the three
comrades were filled with wonderment. This was not lessened when the
magistrate asked them if they were the three brave fellows who had
stopped the two runaways a few days before, and saved the lives of the
ladies who were driving.

With amazement that the judge should know of the runaway, plainly
written on their faces, the boys acknowledged that they had stopped
the horses, but added that it was their auto that had frightened the
animals, and so it had plainly been up to them to help.

The magistrate smiled more broadly at this, but repeated that they were
brave boys, and that he was glad to meet them.

Looking quizzically at them, he said: "I have a special interest in
those two ladies. One of them is my wife, and the other my daughter, and
I can never repay you for what you have done for me. You have made me
your debtor for life. If I can ever do anything for you, be sure and let
me know."

Another handshake all around, and the boys found themselves free once
more. Were they happy?--well, you should have seen them as they climbed
into the car and headed toward camp.

Events had so crowded upon each other that for the first mile or so the
three speeders sat silently reviewing the occurrences of this most
amazing day. And Tom, recalling their court room experience, broke out
with:

    "Gee whiz, I'm glad I'm free
    No prison cell for me."

This provoked a laugh and broke the tension, and a moment afterward a
scouting party from the camp hailed them boisterously: "Where are those
fish?" "How long do you think we can live without eating?" "Stand and
deliver or take the consequences"--and as the auto came to a standstill,
the basket was snatched and hurried off to the mess tent. Soon a
delicious odor made every hungry boy's mouth water, and when at last
they gathered around the table it was with wolfish appetites that they
paid their respects to that belated fish dinner.

CHAPTER XVII

BIDDY HARRIGAN REMEMBERS

    "Cast thy bread--cast thy bread upon the waters,

"And it shall return--it shall return unto thee after many days,"
chanted a clear, high voice, truly a wonderful voice, which Bert claimed
as his own discovery.

It was almost bed-time in the camp. The day had been a most fatiguing
one, and all had returned so weary that no one cared for the usual
lively evening entertainment. Even Mr. Hollis had said that he was
"dog-tired," and he felt with the boys that the very finest thing in the
world was just stretching out on the grass, resting weary feet, and
saying to one's self: "Nothing to do till tomorrow."

It was a perfect evening, cool and quiet. There was no moon, but the
stars twinkled brightly, and the boys had been looking up at them and
trying to make out some of the six constellations that everyone should
be familiar with. But even that, in their present state of laziness, was
too much like work, and now they lay doing and almost thinking nothing.

Even Don, the big collie, that the tramps had deserted, was not inclined
to romp with the boys as usual, but lay quietly with his great head
resting upon his paws. He had become the pet and plaything of the whole
camp and treated them all impartially except Bert whom he had chosen as
his one particular master. He wanted no other heaven than this--to lie,
as now, close to Bert, whose hand caressed his head while he said now
and again: "Good dog"; "Good old fellow!" Don, like the boys, was at
peace with all the world.

Suddenly, someone started a popular air in which all joined. This put
them in a musical humor, and song followed song, changing after a while
from popular music and rollicking college songs to those of a more
sentimental nature. Most of the boys had good voices. With the soprano
of some, the tenors of the older fellows and Mr. Hollis' fine bass, the
camp singing would have delighted any lover of music.

Whenever the boys had sung together, they had noticed that Phil's voice
had never joined in with the others. They had guyed him about it but as
he would never answer them, they had come to the conclusion that he
could not sing and was sensitive about it, so they had stopped teasing
him.

To-night, as the notes of "The Soldier's Farewell" floated over the
camp, Bert noticed that Shorty was singing for the first time, and
though his voice was low as though he were purposely holding it back,
for fear the attention of the boys might be drawn to it, the notes were
remarkably clear and pure.

When the song ended, Bert turned to Phil and asked him if he liked
music. Phil answered that he loved it and added more as if he were
thinking aloud than talking, that it was "the finest thing on earth."

The boys sat up and stared. There was a moment of surprised silence and
then a chorus of voices:

"Then you can sing?"

"We never dreamed you could."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why wouldn't you sing for us?"

"Because," said Phil, who had decided to tell them the real reason at
last, "because all you big fellows thought that just because I was
small, I couldn't do anything worth while, and I was sore."

The fellows expressed their regret and then in responses to a few kindly
questions put by Mr. Hollis, they learned that Shorty's ambition was to
obtain a thorough musical education. They learned too that for two years
past he had been the soloist in the boy choir of one of the prominent
churches in New York. He had joined the boy choir because there he could
gain, without cost, a knowledge of sight reading and voice control.

Bert's "Won't you sing something for us, Phil?" was not to be resisted
and after a moment's thought his clear notes rose in a burst of melody:

    "Cast thy bread upon the waters"----

The boys fairly held their breath as the flutelike notes of one of the
finest voices they had ever heard, floated off into the woodland spaces.

When he had finished, every one sat spellbound, paying the highest
tribute of a moment of perfect silence. Even when the silence was broken
by hearty hand clapping, the spell of the music still brooded over them.
It had been too fine for noisy applause.

The boys' appreciation of his singing was very grateful to Phil, and not
the least tribute was Tom's: "Gee, Phil, I hope the birds didn't wake up
to hear that. They would have been green with envy."

The tension was broken by Sam's asking: "What does that mean, 'Cast thy
bread upon the waters'--and how can it return?" Mr. Hollis was glad to
explain that no kind deed or word is ever wasted, but is sure to return
blessings on the one who gave it, if only in the glow that a kind action
always brings.

But, uplifted as the boys had been, it is not in boy nature to stay long
upon the heights and they soon came down to earth again.

Jim showed how fully he had come back to earth by remarking as he
suddenly remembered that owing to a miscalculation as to the elastic
nature of a boy's capacity, both flour and corn meal had given out, and
that in consequence, nothing in the shape of bread had come their way
that night: "I wish some real bread were coming tomorrow. I am not
particular about its coming by water. It can get here any old way, as
long as it comes."

The sound of someone approaching the camp aroused them. Irish Kitty
appeared, with a big basket on one arm and a great bunch of red roses in
her apron.

As soon as the boys saw the flowers, a shout went up: "Roses! roses!
What beauties!" and on Kitty saying that she had counted them and there
was one for each, they were seized upon and distributed in a twinkling.

Now, Kitty stated that she had a "prisint for the young gintlemin" from
her mother, Mrs. Harrigan, "to thank thim for the foine illigant ride in
the artymobile."

The big basket was uncovered and there lay revealed to the eyes of the
delighted boys a number of large loaves of delicious homemade bread.
One did not need to taste that bread to know its value. The firm white
loaves spoke for themselves. Corn bread they had in plenty every day,
but white wheat flour bread was not included in their regular camp
rations, so that this was indeed a treat. They were all devouring it
already in imagination, and each wished it were morning so that they
might begin in reality.

Kitty departed amid "Good nights" and hearty thanks to her mother, and,
camp bed time having arrived, all drifted toward their tents, Tom gaily
singing:

    "'Tis a name
    That no shame
    Has iver been connected with
    Harrigan! That's me."

All at once some one shouted: "Look at Ben Cooper." They turned to see
Ben standing like a statue, eyes fixed on nothing, staring straight
ahead of him.

"Say, fellows," said he, "that bread that we cast on the waters on our
way home from the doctor's the other day sure did come back, didn't
it?"

"It certainly did and it didn't take 'many days' either to get here,"
said Tom.

"And," chimed in Shorty, "a big bunch of red roses thrown in, too."

"Yes, Caruso," added Bert, throwing his arm affectionately over Phil's
shoulder, "you must be a prophet as well as a singer."

Very soon the tired boys were off to dreamland, where visions of loaves
of fluffy white bread, each loaf with a red rose growing out of it,
floated about, and imaginative Dave dreamed that old Biddy made a
"prisint" of a loaf to each one, singing in a high cracked voice as she
handed them around: "Harrigan! That's me!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE RACE

"Well," exclaimed Bert, drawing a long breath as he rose from his
cramped position beside the "Red Scout," "this machine is in as good
condition as I know how to put it, and if nothing happens I guess we can
show you fellows some speed this afternoon."

It was the morning of the long wished-for race and Bert was addressing
an excited group of boys, who were holding wrenches, oil cans, and such
other appliances as he might need in putting the finishing touches on
the pampered machine. The whole camp was in a ferment of excitement and
expectancy, and many were the heartfelt wishes for Bert's success.

To these boys it seemed the most important thing on earth that their
machine should win, and it is safe to say that if Bert had wanted to
remove a piece of black grease from the car and had not a cloth handy,
any one of them would have sacrificed his best handkerchief without a
moment's hesitation, and been glad to do it.

Fortunately, such a contingency did not arise, however, and finally the
last nut had been tightened and the last fine adjustment made, and
everything was ready for the start.

The race was scheduled to start at two o'clock, but as the boys had to
walk to the track, and this necessitated a long detour around the lake,
they started almost immediately after breakfast, so as to get there in
plenty of time.

The boys in the two rival camps were not the only persons interested in
the race by any means. News of it had leaked out over the surrounding
countryside during the week between the completion of arrangements and
the actual race, and now there promised to be a goodly attendance of
farmers and their families.

Considerable interest was taken in the camp by the kindly country folk,
and now the boys were surprised at the number of carriages and farm
wagons, full of jolly youngsters, that they met on their march.

Every one they met shouted cheery greetings to them, which they returned
with interest. It made them very happy to see the interest taken in them
by the farmers, and the very evident good will expressed by them. They
didn't take the trouble to figure out the reason for this, but it
was not very hard to find. The fact is, the boys were so manly and
well-behaved that they won their way into all hearts.

Many a time they had seen the boys stop their machine rather than
frighten a skittish horse, and more than one weary farmer had been
given a lift on his way home from some distant field.

So, as has been said, the boys were greeted with expressions of good
will on every side as they marched along, and it made them realize,
perhaps more than anything else could, that it paid to live a manly,
upright life.

Meanwhile, back in camp Mr. Hollis, Bert, and Dick, were having a final
discussion before leaving for the rival camp in the "Red Scout." It had
been decided that Dick was to ride with Bert in the race, and give him
any help that he might need.

The other boys had been bitterly disappointed, especially Tom, who had
counted right along on going.

"It only seems fair that I should go," he had contended. "Bert and I
have always been special pals, and I wanted to share any risk he is
going to take."

But Mr. Hollis was firm as a rock, as he well knew how to be when he
thought circumstances required it of him.

"I'm a little bit uneasy about the race, anyway," he explained, "and as
long as somebody has to take chances I want it to be some boy who is old
enough to be responsible for his own actions. I know nobody could fill
the place better than you, my boy, but I am sure that when you think
over what I have said you will agree with me in my decision," and Tom
had to admit to himself that, as usual, Mr. Hollis was right.

But now the time had come to leave for the rival camp, and Mr. Hollis
and Tom climbed into the tonneau, while Bert and Dick occupied the two
front seats.

Soon they had started, and as they went along Bert gave Dick his last
instruction. "Remember," said he, "that when we take the turns you must
lean as far toward the inside of the track as you can. This may not seem
to help much in keeping those inside wheels on the ground, but every
little thing like that does help, and I think that we will have to do
everything we know how to beat that 'Gray Ghost' of theirs. That car is no
slouch, as the saying goes, and Ralph Quinby knows his business."

"All right, Bert," replied Dick, "I'll try to remember all the things
you have told me. I really believe," he continued, laughing, "that I
have forgotten more about automobiles in the last week than I ever knew
before. I never had any idea that there was so much to know about a car,
and you certainly have got it down to perfection."

Bert was pleased at this evidently sincere tribute from Dick, and could
not prevent a slight flush of pleasure from mounting to his face.

"Well, Dick," he remarked after a moment, "all I've got to say is that
if such a trio as you and I and the old 'Red Scout' can't win that race,
there must be something the matter with the universe, that's all."

The rival camp all felt as confident as did Mr. Hollis' troop, however,
and to the impartial observer it would certainly have seemed as though
there was little to choose between the autos and their crews.

By this time they had come in sight of the old race track, and were
astonished, and, it must be confessed, somewhat confused at the sight
that met their eyes. There was an old rickety grand stand along one side
of the course, and this was literally packed with a bright-colored mass
of humanity. Even scattered around the infield there were quite a few
farm wagons, with their complement of folks out for a holiday.

"Say," said Dick to Bert in a low tone, "I didn't count on having an
audience like this. They'll guy the life out of us if we lose."

"Well," said Bert, who by this time had recovered from his first
astonishment, "that's all the more reason why we should win. We simply
can't let ourselves be beaten now, that's all there is about it."

But there was no time for further speculation, as Mr. Hollis was seen
approaching them, and it was evident the race must soon begin.

Bert ran the "Red Scout" around to a small shed in back of the grandstand,
and he and Dick made their final preparations. These consisted in taking
off the hood, or bonnet, altogether, and removing the exhaust pipes from
the motor. As Bert had already explained to Dick, this was done to
eliminate any back pressure from the exhaust gases. Under ordinary
conditions, this makes such a small difference in the power of a car
that it can hardly be said to count, but in a race every ounce of power
is required. This is done on every racing car, and that is why the
explosions make such loud, sharp reports when the car is in action.

It need hardly be said that every boy in Mr. Hollis's troop, except poor
Fred, was present, and many were the anxious looks cast at Bert and Dick
to see, if possible, how they felt about the outcome of the race. Both
had been trained to have control of their feelings, however, and so
outwardly they appeared to be very calm.

This was far from being the real state of their feelings, and both felt
as though their hearts had suddenly become too large and were trying to
get out between their ribs. They realized that it was not only their own
reputation that would suffer if they were defeated, but the whole camp
was involved. What would Mr. Hollis think of them if the other boys were
victorious? What would the boys who had such blind confidence in them
and the "Red Scout" do or say if the "Gray Ghost" won?

Such thoughts were demoralizing, however, and neither Bert nor Dick
entertained them any longer than they could help. Into both their faces
came that stern, resolved look that all the boys had seen at times and
come to love, and in the minds of Tom and the others all doubts as to
the final result vanished.

Meanwhile, Mr. Thompson's troop had been giving the "Gray Ghost" its
final touches, and now, at the sound of a mellow whistle, both Bert and
Ralph cranked their motors.

None of the boys had ever heard the unmuffled exhaust of a racing car
before, and at the savage roar that now issued from both cars all the
boys fell back several steps with scared faces. As soon as they realized
that the gasoline tank had not exploded, nor any other equally awful
thing occurred, they came forward and tried to ask questions, but in the
confined shed they could hardly hear the sound of their own voices.

Slowly the fire-spitting monsters were backed out of the shed, and their
respective drivers swung them around and on to the track. They were
greeted by a wave of cheering both from the boys and from the assembled
farmers, and more than one burly countryman who had come to the "kids'
racket" under protest was seen to sit up straight and open his eyes
wide.

No doubt many of them had expected to see a rather tame affair, and
in fact few of them had ever seen an automobile race, or knew the
tremendous speed of which a good car was capable, or realized the cool
head and steady nerves required to control the condensed power of forty
horses traveling at a speed of close to a mile a minute.

However, they were soon to experience a few of the thrills attendant on
such an occasion. The two leaders had been holding a consultation, and
now they approached the vibrating, eager cars.

Mr. Hollis was forced to shout to make himself heard above the din of
the exhausts. "It is understood," he said, "that this race is to be run