Bert Wilson at the Wheel. Duffield J. W.

fact is,” Bob Ward was saying, as he meditatively chewed a long piece of grass, “you never can tell when the fool thing is going to go back on you. I used to drive my uncle’s car a good deal, but I never could go very far without some part of the machinery breaking down. Uncle Jack said I was a Jonah and I guess I was, because he could run the pesky thing all over the country if I wasn’t with him, and it would go like a bird. One day I ran it into a fence and nearly got killed, so I took the hint and haven’t fooled with one since.”

      “But we ought to make a try at locating a site for the new camp,” Frank Edgewood objected. “We volunteered, and we’ll be the laughing stock of the whole camp if we don’t succeed, besides breaking our word to Mr. Hollis.”

      “Yes, I don’t see why you said you could do it, if you are going to get cold feet at the last minute,” said Jim.

      “I haven’t got cold feet,” Bob defended hotly, then virtuously, “it isn’t because of my own danger that I hesitate, but I don’t like to drag you fellows into it with me.”

      “If you don’t mind breaking your own neck, you needn’t worry about ours,” said Dave Ferris; “we’ll stay here while you take a little spin across country,” grinning wickedly. “Of course, if you should find a good camp location in the meantime, you could claim all the glory” – this last condescendingly.

      Before Bob had time to retort, a cry of “Bert, Bert Wilson!” caught the boys’ attention, and they turned in time to see a young fellow take a flying leap over one of the fences and land in the midst of a group of excited, welcoming friends.

      “Make believe we’re not glad to see you, Bert. We thought you wouldn’t be able to get off this year.”

      “Tom Henderson spread that report. Where is he?”

      “Wait till I get at him.”

      “He ought to have a ducking,” and other undeserved threats were hurled at poor Tom’s innocent head.

      “Hold on, fellows,” said Bert, laughing; “Tom wasn’t to blame. I didn’t know myself that I could make the camp till yesterday.”

      At that moment the maligned Tom dashed up, nearly upsetting his friend in an ecstasy of delight.

      “You’re a brick with a capital B and the best kind of a sight for sore eyes,” gasped Tom, getting his breath back by degrees. “I never was so glad to see anyone in my life. And you came just in the nick of time, too, to help us out.”

      Then, dragging his friend away unceremoniously, Tom explained the situation in which he and the other volunteers found themselves.

      “You will help us out, won’t you, Bert?” he asked appealingly.

      By this time the rest of the volunteers had come up and were eagerly awaiting the decision. When they heard Bert’s hearty “Surest thing you know,” they went wild, and after giving him “three cheers and a tiger,” marched him off to the mess tent, there to partake of corn bread and maple syrup. This last had such a good effect on Bert as to lead him to say that the fellow who had never known the gastronomic delight of corn bread spread thick with maple syrup didn’t know what it was to live.

      The dramatic arrival of Bert at the camp just when they most felt the need of him had been almost as unexpected to him as to the other campers.

      Through the recommendation of Mr. Hollis, he had secured a position with a large manufacturing business in New York. There from the very start he had made good and his industry and ability were soon noted by his employer. It was not long before his salary was increased and larger opportunities afforded him, and he soon found himself treading the path that was bound to lead to success.

      Of course, like every other healthy boy, he felt the need of friends and recreation. The first he found in Tom Henderson, with whom he struck up a great friendship. Another crony was Frank Edgewood, who worked on the same floor as himself. When the work of the day was done they were usually found together, either in each other’s rooms or at some of the places of wholesome recreation of which the city offers so great a variety.

      If Bert had one trait that stood out more prominently than any of the others it was his love for mechanics. Anything in the way of a clever mechanical toy, a puzzle, or a machine attracted him immensely. He wanted to “see the wheels go ’round.” Especially was this true in the case of automobiles. The huge machine moving so swiftly, so noiselessly, with such a sense of freedom and the sensation of flying, drew him like a magnet. He scarcely dared to dream that one day he might be the actual owner of a motor car, but he did hope that some day or other his hand might be on the wheel, his foot upon the brake, while he steered the flying monster as it sped like a flash across the country.

      His dream seemed perceptibly nearer being realized when Tom introduced him to the owner of a garage in the vicinity of his home. There he speedily became familiar with every joint and crank and lever of the great machines. He saw them taken apart and put together, he saw them brought in battered, broken, almost wrecked, and made as good as new. From theory to practice was not far. Little by little he was permitted to help in the minor repairs. After a while he was entrusted with short trips, at first in the company of an experienced chauffeur and at last on his own responsibility. It was not long before he felt capable to handle, steer, drive, and repair, and, if he had cared to do so, he would have had no difficulty in passing an examination and securing a license to drive a car.

      His idea of recreation ran in the same direction. Whenever there was a motor meet anywhere within reach, especially on Saturday afternoon, which was a half holiday at the factory, Bert could be found, accompanied by either Tom or Frank, or both, watching with intense delight the exciting incidents of the race. The crowd – the start – the great machines flying by like streaks of lightning – the roar of the partisans of each car as their favorite took the lead, and above all the frantic excitement and enthusiasm at the finish as the victor flew across the line – all these things stirred his blood with inexpressible delight.

      On another occasion he and his chums had visited the “Greatest Show on Earth.” He had laughed at the clowns and had been thrilled by the acrobats. Every pore of his body had drunk in with delight the tremendous feats of skill and daring that appeal so strongly to a boy. But the one supreme thrill, the one he never forgot, the one that repeated itself over and over again in his dreams, was when the automobile with its daring operator starting from the very top of the immense building, amid the deathlike hush of the crowd, flew like a flash down the steep incline, sprang into space, turned a complete somersault, and, lighting on the further side of the gap, rushed across the arena. This was the climax of everything. Little else appealed to Bert; he talked of nothing else on the way home. There was no use talking, the “auto fever” was in his blood.

      With this passionate delight in his favorite machine, Bert’s feeling can be understood when he learned that the chief feature of the boys’ encampment when the summer opened was to be an automobile “hike,” the car itself having been kindly loaned by Mr. Hollis. At first, owing to conditions at the factory, he had feared that he would not be able to go at the time set for the encampment, and his disappointment was crushing. A quiet little talk of Mr. Hollis’s with his employer, however, had adjusted things so that he learned at the last moment he would be able to go. We have already seen how uproariously he had been received by his old companions when he came so unexpectedly into the howling mob of enthusiasts at the summer camp.

      In less time after his arrival than it takes to tell, Bert was clad in khaki and had obtained the ready permission of Mr. Hollis to take the boys on their desired expedition.

      The fellows scrambled into their adored “Red Scout” with more haste than grace, while Bert was busy cranking it. Then with a cry of “All right back there?” and an answering shout of “You bet your life,” the great car started smoothly up the ascent.

      As it quickened its speed and disappeared around a bend of the road, more than one of the boys at the camp wished he had been quicker to offer his services.

      “If I’d only known that Bert would be here I’d been one of the first to volunteer, but I must say I wasn’t anxious to trust my neck to Bob’s safe-keeping.