The Motor Boys Overland

OR

A LONG TRIP FOR FUN AND FORTUNE

By CLARENCE YOUNG

AUTHOR OF “THE MOTOR BOYS,” “THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO,” ETC.

NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON CO.

BOOKS BY CLARENCE YOUNG

MOTOR BOYS SERIES

12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid

THE MOTOR BOYS Or Chums Through Thick and Thin

THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND Or A Long Trip for Fun and Fortune

THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO Or the Secret of the Buried City

THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS Or The Hermit of Lost Lake

THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT Or The Stirring Cruise of the Dartaway

THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC Or The Mystery of the Lighthouse

THE JACK RANGER SERIES

12mo. Finely Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid

JACK RANGER’S SCHOOLDAYS Or The Rivals of Washington Hall

JACK RANGER’S WESTERN TRIP Or From Boarding School to Ranch and Range

JACK RANGER’S SCHOOL VICTORIES Or Track, Gridiron and Diamond

(Other volumes in preparation)

Copyright, 1906, by Cupples & Leon Company

The Motor Boys Overland

[iii]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

[iv]

[v]

PREFACE.

Dear Boys:

Here we have the second volume of “The Motor Boys Series,” a line of books relating to the doings of some bright and up-to-date youths, on wheels, at home and abroad.

In the first volume of the series, called “The Motor Boys,” the writer told how Bob, Ned and Jerry won several important races, including that which brought to them a much-wished-for prize, a grand touring car.

The car won, there was nothing to do but to take a long trip, and in this present book, “The Motor Boys Overland,” are given the particulars of a journey in the automobile to the great West. On the way the boys fall in with an old miner, who has the secret of a lost gold mine of great value. The lads decide to take the miner to the lost mine in their touring car, and the long and perilous journey among the mountains is begun. Enemies also hear of the wonderful lost mine, and then begins a wild race, to see who shall get there first and claim the riches.

This “Motor Boys Series” will be continued by[vi] a third volume, to be called “The Motor Boys in Mexico.” I earnestly hope the boys will find the stories to their liking. I can assure all it has been a pleasure to pen them, for the writer is something of an automobile enthusiast himself, and some of the experiences on the road have been taken from life.

Clarence Young.

March 22, 1906.

[1]

CHAPTER I. AN AUTOMOBILE RACE.

There was a whizz of rubber-tired wheels, a cloud of dust and the frightened yelping of a dog as a big, red touring automobile shot down the road.

“You nearly ran over him, Chunky!” exclaimed Jerry Hopkins, to the stout youth at his side.

“That’s what you did, Bob Baker!” chimed in Ned Slade, leaning over from the rear seat of the auto. “I thought you said you were an expert.”

“I didn’t come within five feet of the pup,” answered Bob Baker, giving the steering wheel a twist to avoid a chicken that scooted across the country road.

“Never mind—miss as good as a mile—we certainly are skating along—never say die—hit a dog, biff! bang! up in the air—down again—bust a tire—break your leg—kill the animal—off again—whoop!”

[2]

“Say, Andy Rush, if you’re going to talk as fast as that the first time Chunky speeds the machine, I’m going to get out!” cried Jerry, with a laugh. “There’s excitement enough without you making any more.”

“All right, fellows, I’ll keep quiet,” agreed Andy, who was a small, nervous chap, never still for a moment, and so full of energy that he talked, as Jerry sometimes said, “like a house afire.”

Bob leaned forward and pulled one of the levers. The auto slowed down, as the low-speed gear came into play, and bowled along under a stretch of shady trees.

“Fifteen miles in thirty minutes,” remarked the stout lad, pulling out his watch. “Not so bad for a starter, eh, Ned?”

“The machine certainly can go!” observed Jerry.

“I didn’t have the full-speed lever on, either,” remarked Bob, who was called “Chunky” by his companions, because of his fleshiness. He turned off the gasolene as the auto came under a large chestnut tree, and the four boys stretched out comfortably on the leather-upholstered seats.

There was Bob Baker, a lad of fifteen years, son of Andrew Baker, a rich banker; Ned Slade, sixteen years old, the only son of Aaron Slade, a department store proprietor, and Jerry Hopkins, the son of a widow, Mrs. Julia Hopkins.

[3]

These three were faithful chums, seldom apart. With them was a mutual friend, Andy Rush. All the boys lived in the village of Cresville, not far from Boston.

The three first named had, the week before the story opens, come into possession of a fine touring car, which they had won as the first prize of a motor-cycle meet, given by the Cresville Athletic Club, as related in the first volume of this series, entitled “The Motor Boys.”

In that was told how they had incurred the enmity of Noddy Nixon, a town bully, who had robbed the mill of Amos Judson of one thousand dollars, which crime the Motor Boys were instrumental in fastening on Noddy.

In consequence of the pending disclosure of his guilt, Noddy had fled from town, a short time before the races, in his father’s automobile. Bill Berry, a town ne’er-do-well, accompanied him. Not long after Noddy had fled in the terror of his guilt being found out, he sent back a letter threatening vengeance on the three boys, whom he accused as being responsible for the fact that he had to leave home.

But the Motor Boys, as they now called themselves, cared little for this in view of the pleasures they anticipated when they got the automobile. It had come in due time; a fine affair, with all the latest improvements and attachments, and[4] was a car capable of making a trip almost anywhere.

The company from whom the auto was purchased sent an expert out to Cresville with it, to instruct the boys in the running of the machine. They learned readily, and were soon able to make short trips on the country roads surrounding the village. This was the first time they had made an extended trip, and the drawing of lots had given Bob the chance to drive the auto, with the result that he nearly came to grief when the dog unexpectedly ran across the road.

For about half an hour the three chums and Andy rested in the shade. It was a pleasant fall afternoon, and though the sun was warm there was a cool breeze.

“Whose turn to crank her up?” asked Bob, for, of course, it could not be expected of him, in charge of the steering wheel, to start the engine.

“I guess it’s mine,” came from Ned, with a sort of groan. His arm still ached from the previous turning of the flywheel.

“I’ll do it—lots of fun—first time I ever had a chance—let me—good for my muscle—whoop!” exclaimed Andy, bustling from the car.

“Oh, it’s good for your muscle, all right enough,” observed Ned. “Go on, I’ll not stop you.”

It was harder work than Andy had anticipated,[5] but he managed to give the crank a few turns and spin the heavy flywheel around. Bob switched on the spark, turned the gasolene into the cylinders, and soon there was a throbbing that told the engine had started. Andy jumped to one side and nearly toppled over.

“Did you think I’d run you down?” asked Bob.

“I don’t know anything about autos,” answered Andy.

“She can’t go until I connect the speed-gears,” explained Bob, with something of a superior air. “Hop in, Andy!”

Andy climbed back to his rear seat, Bob threw the lever forward to first speed, and the car, moving slowly at first, but with increasing swiftness, started down the road.

“Look out for dogs!” advised Ned.

“We don’t want roast chicken for supper, so you needn’t bother to kill any,” came from Jerry.

“I can steer as good as either of you,” exclaimed the stout lad. “You nearly hit a man the other day, Jerry, and I guess you’ve forgotten, Ned, how you broke down one of Mr. Smith’s shade trees. I’m not as bad as that.”

Honk! honk! sounded down the road in the rear of the boys.

“Here comes another auto,” said Jerry. “Keep over to one side, Bob.”

Honk! honk! This time it was Bob who[6] blew his horn to let the oncomers know some one was ahead of them. The noise of the approaching car sounded nearer.

“Better keep well over, Chunky,” advised Ned.

“I’m not going to give ’em more than half the road,” answered Bob, firmly. “If they want a race they can have it, too.”

He threw the third-speed clutch into place, and the boys’ car shot ahead so suddenly that Andy was nearly toppled out of his seat. The red auto dashed down the road.

Behind it, at a swift pace, there came a big, green affair, almost twice the size of the Cresville machine. It was going at a great pace, a lone man occupying the steering seat, and no one being in back. As the green car shot past the red one, the solitary rider gave three toots to his horn. Bob answered, and then, before the other boys could stop him he advanced his spark, turned on more gasolene, and was away after the green dragon like a streak of red fire.

“What are you going to do?” yelled Ned.

“See if I can beat him!” exclaimed Bob.

“You’re crazy! That’s a ninety horse-power car and ours is only forty!”

“I’m going to try,” repeated Bob, between his clenched teeth.

It looked like a hopeless undertaking. The green car was a quarter of a mile ahead before Bob[7] could get his machine speeded up. When he did, however, the new auto ran along swiftly and easily.

Bob shut off his power temporarily and then, with a quick yank, pulled the lever to full speed ahead. Then he turned on the spark and gasolene. The red auto seemed to double its already swift motion.

The car swayed from side to side, and the boys, except Bob, who had a firm grip of the wheel, were bounced up into the air, again and again. Bob had on big goggles, and, with head bent low, was watching the road like a hawk ready to pounce on a chicken.

“We’re gaining on him!” he muttered, and he tooted the horn. Back a faint, answering blast came.

Indeed, it was evident that the red auto, though a smaller and less powerful machine, was creeping up on its rival. The lone chauffeur glanced back, saw the pursuing car, and turned on full power.

For a few moments he increased his lead. But Bob advanced his spark further, and turned on a trifle more of gasolene. The red auto once more leaped forward.

“We’ve got him!” cried Bob. “He can’t get another inch out of his, and I haven’t used the accelerator pedal yet. We’ll beat him!”

[8]

“If we don’t all break our necks!” exclaimed Jerry, holding to his seat.

“Terrible fast—takes your breath—shakes the liver-pin out of you—loosens all your teeth—great sport—smash the machine—never say die—don’t give up the ship—whoop!” yelled Andy, as he slid down to the bottom of the car, unable any longer to remain upright.

Slowly the red car crept up on the green one. The dust arose in clouds about both machines. The autos swayed from the terrific speed, but Bob held the wheel firm and was ready to shut off power and apply the emergency brake in a second. The man in front again glanced back, and did not seem to relish being passed by mere boys in a smaller car than his. He was making desperate efforts to draw away.

The distance between the machines lessened. Bob was watching his opportunity.

“Now we’ve got him!” he cried. “Here we go!”

He pushed down the accelerator pedal, used only to give a momentary burst of speed. The red car shot forward and the front wheels almost lapped the rear ones of the machine in the lead.

There was a slight turn to the road, just where Bob had decided to pass his rival. A clump of trees hid the view, excepting for a short distance ahead. Just as the boys’ auto was on the point of[9] making the turn and passing the green one, Ned glanced up and gave a shout of terror.

Right in front was a load of hay, overturned in the road, and both cars, at full speed, were dashing straight for it!

[10]

CHAPTER II. HO FOR THE WEST!

“Put on the brake!” yelled Ned.

“Shut off the power!” shouted Jerry.

A frightened cry came from the farmer whose load of fodder had overturned in the road. He was unhitching his horses, and jumped to one side as he saw two big autos bearing down on him.

“You’re in for a spill, lads!” called the man in the green car. At that instant he applied his emergency brake and shut off the power. His car came to such a sudden stop that he was thrown from his seat, high into the air.

Bob seemed unable, from the very terror of fright, to make a move to stop the auto he was steering, and clung to the wheel like grim death.

“Put on the brake!” yelled Ned again. “We’ll be killed!”

The load of hay was not ten feet in advance. Bob gave the wheel a sudden twist. The red car shot to one side, out into a ditch along the road. It skidded on two wheels, the boys were nearly thrown out, and bounced high in the air.

[11]

With another quick twist, Bob sent the car straight ahead. Then another turn of the wheel and he was back in the road again!

He had passed the obstruction, going between it and the green auto, and had reached the highway in safety after as daring a bit of steering as ever a boy undertook. Then he shut off the power and applied the brakes hard, the car coming to a stop with a groan and screech as the emergency band gripped the axle.

“Whew! That was a close shave!” came from Jerry, as he drew a long breath.

“A little too near for comfort!” was Ned’s opinion.

“Bet your life!” was all Andy could say, his rapid fire of words failing to discharge this time.

“I thought it was the only thing to do,” remarked the stout steersman. “I was afraid to stop too suddenly, and I figured we just had room enough to get through. But I wouldn’t do it again.”

“Speaking of sudden stops, I wonder what has become of the man in the green car?” spoke Jerry. “We must go back and find out.”

The four lads leaped from their machine and ran back past the load of hay. The farmer was rapidly walking about in a circle, wringing his hands and crying:

“He’s killed! He’s killed! I know he is!”

[12]

With rather anxious hearts the boys hurried around to the other side of the big pile of dried grass. As they reached the place they saw a man attired in an automobile suit, with big goggles on, wiggle out from the mass of hay. He pulled several wisps from his hair and then saw the boys.

“Did you shoot right through the pile and come out on the other side?” he asked.

“We ran around it,” explained Bob. “We beat you,” he added, not without pride.

“So I see. It came pretty near being the end of all of us. You’re a plucky lad. I don’t mind being beaten by you. I thought I had a good car, but yours is better.”

“Ours is much lighter; I guess that’s why we went ahead,” returned Jerry, willing to concede something to a vanquished rival. “But are you hurt?”

The man carefully felt of different parts of his body. Then he took off his goggles and looked over as much as he could see of himself.

“I don’t seem to be,” he said, finally, with a laugh. “It was like falling into a feather bed to land in that hay-pile the way I did. That’s all that saved me. I wonder how my machine stood the emergency brake.”

He examined his car carefully, and was apparently satisfied that no injury had been done by the sudden stopping of it.

[13]

“Where is he?” asked the farmer, suddenly appearing from behind the hay. “Is he dead?” And then he seemed to realize his error and joined in the laugh that followed.

“No, I’m not dead yet,” replied the owner of the green car. “Well,” he went on, “I must be going. Are you boys coming along? If you are, no more races.”

“We’ll have to go back to Cresville,” answered Bob. “We promised to return for supper.”

The man bade the boys good-by and soon the big, green dragon was throbbing down the road in a cloud of dust. The boys, finding they could not help the farmer in his trouble, got in their machine and, promising to send help from the first farmhouse they passed, they left the owner of the hay and were soon speeding toward Cresville.

“Isn’t this glorious!” exclaimed Jerry, as the auto sped along. “I wish we could take a long trip.”

“Why can’t we?” asked Ned.

“We talked of a tour when we found we had a chance to get a car,” put in Chunky. “I for one would like to go out West.”

“Ho for the West!” piped up Andy. “Over the plains—herds of cattle—cowboys in chase—rattlesnakes and horned toads—sandy deserts—Indians—bang! Shoot ’em up! Lots of excitement—take me along—whoop!”

[14]

“Easy!” pleaded Jerry. “One thing at a time, Andy. Haven’t we had excitement enough for one day?”

“We ought to make a strike to go on a western trip, though,” spoke Ned, in serious tones. “Here we have a car that we could cross the continent in. Let’s speak about it at home. It can’t do any harm. Maybe the folks will let us go.”

“It’s worth trying for,” said Jerry. “What do you say, Chunky?”

“I’m with you,” replied Bob. “It will be the best sport ever. But wouldn’t we have to wait until next spring? It’s fall, and if we go West it may be very cold, with lots of snow soon.”

“We can bear off to the south,” said Jerry.

“Sure enough,” agreed Chunky.

That night, when the automobile had been safely put away in the barn at Bob’s house, three anxious boys broached the subject to their respective parents. So insistent were they that it was not long before a general council was arranged. Mrs. Hopkins and Mr. Slade were induced to call at Mr. Baker’s house, where, with the three boys, the whole subject was gone over.

“I’m afraid it’s too much of an undertaking,” said Mr. Baker.

“That’s my idea,” agreed Mr. Slade, and Mrs. Hopkins nodded to indicate that that was her view.

The boys set up a chorus of pleadings. The parents[15] had many objections. The distance was too great, the boys did not know enough about automobiles, they would lose their way and break down far from help. In fact, so many negative reasons were given that it looked as if the plan would not go through.

“Will you please wait ten minutes before you make a final decision?” asked Jerry, appealing to the trio of parents.

They agreed, wondering what he was about to do. Jerry got his hat and hurried from Mr. Baker’s house. In a little while he returned, all out of breath.

“He’ll be here in five minutes,” said the boy.

“Who?” asked Mr. Slade.

“Mr. Wakefield.” Jerry referred to Horace Wakefield, an instructor at the Athletic Club, who was quite a friend of the boys, and who himself had recently purchased an automobile. He lived near Mr. Baker.

“What’s all this I hear about a trip to the West these boys are going to take?” asked Mr. Wakefield, a few minutes later, coming into the parlor where the conference was going on.

“You mean the trip they think they are going to take,” corrected Mr. Slade, with a laugh. “I suppose Jerry told you it was all settled.”

“To be honest, he wanted me to come over and settle it for him and his chums,” replied the instructor.[16] “He said there was some doubt about the feasibility of making the trip.”

Mr. Baker explained how matters stood. He and the other parents were willing the boys should have a good time, he said, but did not want them to run into danger.

“Do you think they could make a trip away out West in their car?” asked Mr. Baker.