The Speedwell Boys and Their Racing Auto: or, A Run for the Golden Cup. Roy Rockwood

the right car – there was no other all the way.”

      “But we did not come to the Falls that way,” said Mr. Briggs. “We traveled by the pike, and we stopped at Mr. Maury’s place for some minutes.”

      “Oh, I know it could not have been your machine,” said Dan, hastily. “The men who ran down Maxey Solomons have escaped by some means. They must have taken a cross road toward the other side of the county.”

      “You did not get their number?”

      Dan quickly related the incidents which had brought him to this place, and in such haste. The gentlemen in the car were sympathetic and interested.

      “Come!” said, Mr. Armitage, “this matter must be looked into. The rascals should be apprehended. They are getting farther and farther away each minute, it is likely. Come, Briggs, what do you say? You have been bragging about the speed of this car. Let’s see what Henri can get out of her.”

      “I am with you, Armitage,” declared his friend. “Hop aboard, Polk. You are a county officer. Those men must be arrested, if possible, and held until we learn what damage they have done.”

      “I’ll go with you, Mr. Briggs,” said the deputy.

      He leaped into the tonneau. Mr. Armitage looked at Dan, who stood by his motorcycle.

      “The boy had better go with us,” said Mr. Armitage. “He is evidently an observant lad, and he will not be likely to make a second mistake in the automobile.”

      “Yes! let the boy come,” said Mr. Briggs. “If he was a witness to the accident he speaks of, we will need his testimony if we overtake the guilty ones.”

      “But my machine?” said Dan, doubtfully.

      “Lift it right up here,” commanded Mr. Briggs. “We’ll fasten it on the running board. Then, young man, you get in beside Henri, and we’ll be off.”

      Dan was quick to obey these suggestions. His Flying Feather he stood upright on the running board of the car, and he saw that it was fastened securely. In five minutes they were off, after Mr. Polk left word at the sheriff’s office for the officers to watch for the mysterious car and its three occupants.

      The auto dashed off along the pike toward Riverdale. There were three cross roads that the offenders against law might have taken, as long as they did not complete their run to Upton Falls. But there were by-roads, too, on which they might have hidden and the deputy sheriff advised stopping to inquire at every farmhouse, and of every teamster whom they met. It was some time, however, ere they picked up the trail of the maroon car, and then they obtained the clue in quite a strange way.

      As they came to the lane leading up to a barn, the farmer came running out with a pitch fork in his hand. Before Mr. Polk could speak, the man demanded:

      “Ye got ’em, hev ye, Sheriff? Wa’al I’m glad of it! I’ll go right down with ye t’ th’ ’squire’s office, an’ I guess, he’ll make ’em pay a pretty price for their fun. That calf of mine run int’ a barbed wire fence an’ tore herself all up – ”

      “Hold on, Mr. Jackson!” exclaimed the deputy. “You’re getting your dates mixed, I guess. These gentlemen certainly have done you no harm.”

      “No harm!” yelled the farmer. “When they come up through the Indian Bridge road not an hour ago, they skeered my heifer into a conniption fit, and come pretty nigh runnin’ over me when I come out at ’em.”

      “Not these gentlemen,” said Polk. “I can vouch for them. One is Mr. Thomas Armitage, whom you ought to know, Jackson.”

      “I swan!” exclaimed the farmer. “I voted for him for Congress.”

      “Much obliged to you, I am sure,” said Mr. Armitage. “And I hope that you will not think I so illy deserved your vote as to race an automobile through these roads to the endangering of life and limb of good citizens.”

      “Wa’al!” ejaculated the puzzled Mr. Jackson, “it was a car jest the same color as yours, Mr. Armitage.”

      “And how many men were in it, Mr. Jackson?” interposed Polk.

      “Come to think on’t, there warn’t but three,” admitted the farmer.

      “Did you see the license number?”

      “Not much! They went so quick I couldn’t see much but the color of the car.”

      “And in which direction did they disappear?” asked the deputy.

      The farmer pointed up the side road, away from the river.

      “They are making for the railroad,” declared Mr. Briggs, in some excitement. “Drive ahead, Henri.”

      They came to the railroad – the Barnegat & Montrose Branch of the R., V. & D. – and halted long enough to speak to the flagman. He had seen the flying car, too. They were on the right track.

      But a mile beyond the pursuing party came to a place where the highway branched in three directions. There was no house in sight. The escaping car might have taken any one of the roads.

      “We’re stuck!” ejaculated Mr. Polk. “We might as well take one at random and see if we can run down a clue upon it.”

      “Wait!” urged Dan Speedwell. “Perhaps I can do better than that.”

      He got out of the machine and ran into the first road at the right. He had noticed that these highways here were not so well made as those nearer the river. There was a chance that he might find some trace of the passing of the strange car which they followed.

      And he was right in this surmise, although he did not find it in this first road. Marks of the tires of an automobile – and fresh marks – were visible in the middle road. As far as Dan could see no other machine had passed this way.

      He leaped back beside the chauffeur and they drove on again at top speed. A mile beyond they halted at a farm house to inquire. The passing of an automobile in a cloud of dust had been noticed less than an hour before; but the sight was too common to have attracted much attention, and the occupants of the house had been too far from the road to note the color of the machine, or the number of men in it.

      Mr. Briggs’ car was certainly fast, and Mr. Briggs’ chauffeur was the most marvelous manipulator of an automobile that Dan Speedwell had ever seen. And to sit directly beside the Frenchman and observe the skill and art with which he handled the levers and the wheel was a sheer delight to the boy.

      He thought to himself:

      “Ah! if Billy and I only owned an auto! If we could only take part in this endurance test that Mr. Briggs is going to arrange! If we could handle an auto half as well as this Frenchman!”

      But the boy’s thoughts were disturbed suddenly by Mr. Polk, who remarked:

      “It looks to me as though these fellows were aiming for Port Luther, or even Cadenz. Unless they turn back toward Riverdale and Compton they will be obliged to strike some of the coast towns.”

      “Quite right, Polk,” admitted Mr. Armitage.

      “Then, here is Landers Station just ahead. There is a train coming down now. I’ll take that train and go on. The railroad is more direct than the highways and I may be able to head those fellows off at Port Luther.”

      “And we stick to the trail in the car, Polk!” agreed the gentleman. “What do you say, Briggs?”

      “It suits me. Henri, shall I take your place for a while?” Mr. Briggs asked his chauffeur.

      “The young man here will change with me, Monsieur,” returned the kindly Frenchman, who had seen how eagerly interested Dan was in the management of the automobile.

      And when they halted at the railroad station to allow the deputy sheriff to take the train, the chauffeur did indeed change places with Dan Speedwell. Once at the wheel the youth proved that Henri had not been mistaken in him. For a lad of sixteen Dan handled the car with great dexterity.

      The maroon car was out of sight