The sun was shining in through the chinks of the mound of hay the next morning when Ned awoke.
“What! Why! Where in the world am I?” he exclaimed. He had slept so hard, because of the fatigue of his ride, that he could not remember where he was.
“Oh I know now,” he said, at length, as the recollection of his experience came to him.
He stretched, rolled out of his fragrant bed and, brushing the wisps of hay from his hair, stepped out into the glow of the sun. His first care was to feel in his pocket to see if the carburetor parts, that had cost him all his trouble, were safe. They were all right, and then Ned began to think of breakfast and getting home. He feared his parents would be worried over his absence.
“Doesn’t seem to be a very thickly settled locality around here,” observed Ned, taking a survey and seeing nothing but fields and woods in the distance. “I guess I’m in for a long walk for breakfast. And I’ve got to push that motor. I can’t fix the tire with what tools I have along. Well, there’s no help for it, and I suppose it will give me a good appetite.”
He found Mr. Wakefield’s motor where it had been left, covered with hay to keep off the dew. Ned rolled it out into the road and then, hearing the musical tinkle of a brook near by, he bethought that a wash and a drink of cool water would not come amiss.
He found a clear sparkling little meadow stream. It raced and bubbled its way over the white pebbles, and between banks of green grass and moss.
“That looks good,” thought Ned, as he stretched out at full length on his face and took a long drink. Then he found a shallow little basin, scooped out of a stone where the water formed a pool, and there he washed and felt much refreshed.
“I’m still in the dark as to whether I’m on the right road or not,” thought Ned. “But it’s daylight now, and I might as well keep going this way until I meet some one to inquire of.”
So he started off. He was hungry and wished very much for something to eat. It was no fun pushing the heavy motor cycle along the dusty road, but Ned dared not leave it behind on the highway for fear something might happen to it.
He had gone about a mile, perhaps, when down the road he saw a farm wagon, to which was hitched a team of horses, approaching.
“Here comes some one at last,” Ned thought, “and I may get a lift.”
“Hello bub!” exclaimed the driver of the horses, a jolly-looking blue-eyed farmer, when the wagon came opposite Ned. “Had a smash up?”
“No, only a tire broken,” replied the boy. “But can you tell me whether this is the way to Cresville?”
“Well, you could get there on this road, but it’s about five miles out of your way. Is that where you want to go?”
“It’s where I live,” Ned answered. “I went to Boston yesterday, and on my way back last night I lost my way, my machine broke, and I had to sleep in a hay stack.”
“I see you did,” observed the farmer. “Some of the grass is in your hair yet.”
Ned hastily removed the traces of his recent bed.
“But if you’re going to Cresville,” went on the man, “I can give you a lift. I’m going within three miles of there.”
“I’d be much obliged if you would,” spoke Ned.
“Well, pile your machine in back there, and climb up on the seat,” was the invitation, and Ned did so.
“You don’t happen to know of any restaurants around here, do you?” he asked the driver.
“No, nothing open on Sunday.”
“Sure enough, it is Sunday!” cried Ned. “I’m so upset I’d about forgotten it.”
“Sleeping in the hay instead of your bed sort of put you off the track,” suggested the farmer.
“That’s what it did,” agreed Ned.
It was a beautiful morning and Ned thoroughly enjoyed it as he rode along. Even the rough jolting of the farm wagon was not unpleasant.
“I don’t usually travel in this kind of a rig on Sundays,” explained the farmer. “But I have to go over to Doddtown for some grain for the horses, and I had to take this cart.”
“I’m glad you did,” said Ned. “If you had been in a carriage I couldn’t have brought the motor cycle with me.”
“No more you could,” spoke the farmer. “Everything happens for the best after all. But here you are. This is as far as I go on your way. If you take that road,” pointing to where one branched off from the highway the wagon was on, “you’ll come to Cresville. Sorry I can’t take you all the way, but it’s only three miles.”
“I’m much obliged to you for the lift,” said Ned, getting the machine out of the wagon, and bidding his new acquaintance good-bye.
Leaving the motor cycle at a house on the outskirts of town, Ned reached home about noon, and found his parents much alarmed. Jerry and Bob were at his house, and there was talk of organizing a searching party.
“Did you bring the carburetor parts?” asked Jerry.
“I did!” exclaimed Ned, as he passed them over.
“They’re all right,” announced Jerry, after an inspection. “From now on we must take care not to leave our machines out of our sight. But what did you do with Mr. Wakefield’s motor?”
Ned told where it was. Then he had a bath, and got ready for dinner. After the meal, which his chums ate with him, Ned went and told Mr. Wakefield what had happened to the motor. The latter was not alarmed for the safety of his machine, and it was arranged that one of the employees of the club could drive over for it on Monday. The rest of the day the boys spent quietly, anxiously waiting for the morrow when they might again try their motors.
Bright and early on Monday each boy was fitting the new carburetor parts to his cycle. The apparatus fitted perfectly and soon all three were spinning down the road at a good speed. They rode for several miles and were about to turn back, on Jerry’s proposal to go to the athletic track, when they heard the noise of an approaching motor.
The next instant a machine turned the corner of the road, and came toward them. All three of the chums started as they saw that the rider was Jack Pender. Hardly knowing what they were doing, Ned, Bob and Jerry spread themselves out across the highway so that Pender could not pass. On his part he was so surprised that he shut off the power of his machine and came to a stop, just as the three chums, who had done likewise, dismounted.
“Well?” observed Jerry quietly. “I’ve been wanting to meet you, Jack.”
“Don’t you dare to touch me!” exclaimed Jack. “If you do I’ll have you arrested.”
“You’re a nice one to talk about having people arrested,” went on Jerry. “I’ve a good mind to shake you!”
“What did I do?” asked Jack, looking very uncomfortable.
“You know well enough what you did. Tried to fix our machines so they wouldn’t work by taking off the carburetors. That’s what you did.”
“I didn’t mean to,” said Jack. “I was just—just turning them and they came off.”
“You’d ought to be made to pay for the damage you did,” put in Ned. “I had to go all the way to Boston for new parts.”
“I haven’t any money,” whined Jack.
“You have enough to lend to Noddy Nixon,” put in Bob, remembering that day when they had met Noddy at the soda-water booth, and the bully had boasted that Jack loaned him money.
“I never lent Noddy any money!” exclaimed Jack.
“He said you did!” exclaimed Jerry.
“Well, he tells—what business is it of yours any how?” Jack interrupted a statement he was going to make. “I don’t have to tell you anything about my affairs.”
“No one asked you to,” Ned put in. “All we want is for you to let us and our machines alone.”
“I think a good thrashing is what he needs,” said Jerry, with mock severity, standing his machine against Ned’s and advancing toward Jack.
“Oh no! Please don’t!” begged the young coward. “I’ll never do anything again. Please don’t lick me! Noddy Nixon made me do it! Don’t touch me, and I’ll tell you everything!”
“Everything about what?” asked Jerry.
“About—about the—the mill robbery!” exclaimed Jack.
“What do you know of it?” asked Ned in amazement.
“I don’t know very much, but you watch Noddy Nixon about six o’clock to-night,” replied Jack. “There,” he burst out, “I promised I wouldn’t tell, but he’s always getting me in trouble and never helping me out.”
Then, before the boys could stop him, Jack Pender turned his machine in the opposite direction, leaped into the saddle and was soon moving off swiftly down the road.
“Shall we chase him?” asked Ned.
“No, let him go,” replied Jerry. “We gave him a good scare, and, besides, we want to be on hand for something else.”
“What?”
“We want to watch Noddy to-night.”
For a few moments after Jerry had spoken neither Ned nor Bob knew what to say. Events had happened so rapidly, and they seemed on the verge of such a discovery, that they were startled. Jerry alone kept cool.
“What do you think Noddy will do?” asked Ned.
“I might make a dozen guesses and not hit it,” Jerry replied. “We can only wait and watch.”
“Shall we do it together?” inquired Bob.
“Hardly that,” spoke Jerry. “If he saw three of us on his trail he would probably suspect something. I have a plan.”
“What is it?” asked Ned.
“You know there are only three ways Noddy can take after he leaves his house,” said Jerry. “He can go up town, down town or he can take the road that leads out to the old wind mill.”
“That’s so,” came from Bob.
“Now my idea is that we all three ought to keep watch,” went on Jerry. “If he goes up town Ned can follow him. If he goes down town Bob can take up the trail and if he goes out to the old mill I will go after him.”
“All right,” Jerry said. “That settles it. Now for home.”
Little talk was indulged in. Each of the three chums felt that something of importance was to happen and their thoughts were too busy for conversation. In due time the boys separated, had their dinners and suppers, and shortly before six o’clock met by appointment in the post office, which was a block from Noddy’s residence.
“Now remember,” said Jerry. “If he goes up town you are to follow, Ned. Bob, it’s your turn if he goes down, and if he takes the road to the old mill I’ll follow.”
They had long waits, for it was nearly nine o’clock before Noddy crept quietly from the rear door in the darkness of the night. He did not know that three pairs of sharp eyes watched his every movement. Peering on every side of him the bully quickly made his way to the street. Then, after a moment’s hesitation he started rapidly off in the direction of the old mill.
“Here goes!” said Jerry, who was on the look-out.
Like a shadow he glided from his hiding place and was after Noddy. He kept a sufficient distance in the rear so that he would not betray himself by the sound of his footsteps. It was quite dark, for there was no moon, but the stars were bright.
“I wonder what he wants out here?” thought Jerry. “Is he going to meet some one?”
To his surprise he saw Noddy, having halted in front of the deserted mill, enter the dark and uninviting place without hesitation.
“Ugh! I wouldn’t care to go in there alone,” thought Jerry. “It looks spooky!”
He dared go no closer than the dilapidated fence that surrounded the structure. Crouching there in the shadow, he looked toward the mill, to discern what went on. No one seemed to be waiting for Noddy, nor did the bully show by his actions that he expected any one. Shortly after he had entered the place Noddy struck a light, as Jerry could see. It flickered and moved about some, but seemed to be kept in one room. Then, in a few minutes, the light went out, and Jerry heard footsteps approaching down the gravel walk that led to the main entrance of the mill.
“He either went there to get something or hide something,” Jerry reasoned. “If it was to hide something I may discover what it was. If it was to take something I have very little chance of success.”
Still hiding in the shadow of the fence Jerry waited until Noddy had passed some distance down the road.
“I don’t fancy going into that place very much,” observed the boy, “but it’s got to be done.”
Considerably against his inclinations, Jerry took the dark path leading to the old mill. He started at every sound, and when an owl hooted in a nearby tree the boy jumped as if some one had yelled at him.
With beating heart he made his way into the deserted place. It was as dark as a pocket and the boy struck a light.
“If I only had a candle,” he wished.
Hardly had he formed the thought when, glancing down, he saw a short wax end on the floor. He picked it up.
“This is the light Noddy had,” reflected Jerry.
He lighted the wick, and the illumination somewhat dispelled the gloom. With eager eyes he scanned the place. Moving about he held the candle up where it would give a good light. But nothing rewarded his search. From side to side he went. Then he held the light close to the floor. He had gone over almost every foot of surface and found nothing.
“I guess it’s a wild-goose chase,” thought Jerry. “But I’m sure Noddy did not go out of this room. I watched the light. Hello! What’s that?”
He had suddenly struck his foot against a board that projected somewhat above the others in the floor.
“Queer I didn’t notice that before,” said Jerry. He lowered the candle carefully. “Looks as if it had been moved lately,” he went on.
Thrusting his fingers beneath the edge of the board Jerry gave a strong pull. The plank did not budge. He tried again without success. At the third attempt, however, his strength availed, and he felt the piece of flooring suddenly yield. So quickly did it come from its place in fact that Jerry fell backward, knocking out his candle and leaving himself in utter darkness.
Quickly searching in his pocket the boy found his matches, struck a light and ignited the candle end. Then, with swiftly beating heart he peered down into the hole he had disclosed. He was rewarded by seeing a small wooden box, half covered with dirt and rubbish. With trembling fingers Jerry drew it forth and held it close to the light. It was a square wooden receptacle with a hinged cover.
“It’s the box that was stolen from the mill with the thousand dollars in it!” exclaimed Jerry.
He raised the cover. If he had had any doubts about his find they were dispelled when he saw the contents of the box. It was half filled with papers, seemingly of no value, but bearing the name of Amos Judson. There were receipts, notes, bills and memoranda. But there was no trace of the money.
“I’ll take this away,” said the boy, “and have a talk with Ned and Bob about it. I think—”
There came a sudden sound that startled the lad. It was as if some one had stepped on the platform outside of the mill. Jerry quickly blew out his candle. Then, as he heard an owl hoot, he knew it was the bird that had made the noise, and breathed easier.
Not stopping to relight the candle, but replacing, as best he could in the darkness the plank, so the hole would not be noticed on a casual inspection, Jerry hurried from the mill and made a quick trip to Ned’s house. He felt that matters were now at a crisis.
As late as it was Jerry found his two chums anxiously waiting for him.
“Well?” asked Ned.
“Here is something,” replied Jerry, showing the box which he had concealed under his coat. He told how he had found it and the three chums examined the contents curiously.
“What had we better do?” asked Bob.
“I’ll tell you what I think,” spoke Ned. “We ought to tell father. He will know what to do.”
Mr. Slade was plainly surprised at some of the disclosures made, for, though he knew most of the circumstances, he was not acquainted with all of them. The boys had forgotten many details in their previous recitals, and, of course, the finding of the box was the latest occurrence.
“I must say you boys have sifted this thing out pretty well,” said Mr. Slade. “You have a great deal more information than have the police.”
“What had we better do about it?” asked Jerry. “You see we are at a sort of stand-still now.”
Mr. Slade thought for a few minutes.
“Here is what I would do,” he said at length. “I would contrive to have a talk with Noddy Nixon, all three of you. I understand he is a sort of bully, but if the three of you are together there is nothing to fear from him.
“Once you get him alone somewhere you can tell him just what you know, and show him how everything points to him as the person who robbed the mill. It may be that the information will overwhelm him, and he will own to everything. Again, he may be innocent of everything, and able to explain all of his acts satisfactorily. In that case you will be glad that you made no public complaint.”
After a little thought the boys voted this was the best thing to do. They arranged to send Noddy a note asking him to meet one of them in a secluded place the next day, and all three chums promised to be on hand.
Early the next day the three boys met again. In accordance with the arrangement of the night before, Jerry had sent a note to Noddy, asking the bully to meet him near the old wind mill.
“Come, for the matter is of great interest to you,” the note had said, and Jerry had signed no name. Ten o’clock was the hour set, and quite a while before that time the three boys were at the dilapidated structure.
“I think you two had better stay inside,” said Jerry to Bob and Ned. “But remain where you can see and hear everything. I’ll be out here when Noddy comes.”
It was a few minutes after ten when Jerry saw Noddy coming up the path that led to the main mill entrance. No sooner had the bully caught sight of Jerry than he started, and seemed about to turn back.
“Don’t go!” called Jerry. “Did you get my note?”
“Did you write that?”
“I certainly did.”
“What’s it all about?” growled Noddy. “If you’re fooling me you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
“I guess you won’t think it’s much like fooling,” replied Jerry. “In the first place, have you ever seen this before?”
He suddenly held out the wooden box he had found hidden in the mill. At the sight of it Noddy started.
“Where—where did you get it?” Noddy gasped.
“Right here, in this mill,” was the answer. “I took it out of a hole in the floor last night, right after you had been here. It has some papers in it from the Judson mill.”
Noddy started again. His face was pale, and he trembled. His hands twitched nervously.
“What—what else?” he whispered.
“You might as well tell everything,” said Jerry. “Ned saw you coming from the mill on the night of the robbery with this box under your arm. You said it had fish bait in it. We know how thick you were with Bill Berry, and how he tried to have the blame cast on Ned. And we know something else.”
“What?”
“That you paid a bet to Paul Banner shortly after the robbery.”
“Supposing I did?”
“Just this, we have—or, rather I have—one of the bills you gave to Paul.”
“Well, what of that?” asked Noddy, trying to maintain a brave air.
“Only this. It was a ten dollar bill, issued by a state instead of a national bank, and it had the initials H. R. C. on it in red ink. We have learned that this bill was paid to Mr. Judson on the afternoon before the robbery, that it was placed in the box—this box—that was stolen from the safe.”
“Supposing some one gave that bill to me before I gave it to Paul?” asked Noddy.
“If you can prove that it will be a good thing for you,” Jerry went on. “We have no desire, Noddy, to fasten this on you, but Ned must be cleared and the robbery mystery ended. Tell me who gave you the queer bank bill?”
But Noddy kept silent.
“On the night of the mill fire,” Jerry went on, “we found the hammer and chisel that were used to cut the safe open, and also the dark lantern. If anything more is needed, Bill Berry will—”
“If Bill Berry tells that he saw me in the mill—!” cried Noddy, and then he stopped.
“We may need Bill’s testimony,” Jerry said. “You see we have nearly everything, Noddy. What have you to say?”
Noddy said nothing for a few minutes. He seemed ill at ease. Then he burst out:
“I may as well confess! You cubs have spied on me to good advantage. I had to take that money! I needed it to pay my debts. I heard Tom Judson say it was in the safe that afternoon. I knew the old iron box was easy to crack. I had no trouble to get in, and I began work. When I was almost through I looked up, and saw Bill Berry looking in at me. I offered to go shares with him if he would keep quiet, and he did. Then, after a while he said another man, a chum of his, had seen me also, and I had to give him money. He would have shot me if I hadn’t. It was one night in a lonely house.”
Jerry nodded. He well remembered that night.
“Then,” went on Noddy, “Bill suggested throwing the blame on Ned, because he was around the mill that night. It didn’t work, however. Now, I guess the game is up. What are you going to do?”
“We’ll have to consider,” Jerry replied.
“We? Who is we?” asked Noddy.
“Bob, Ned, and myself.”
“Are they here?”
“They heard it all. We needed several witnesses,” was the answer.
“Give me one day more,” pleaded the bully. “I may be able to pay the money back then.”
“I’ll see what the others say,” replied Jerry. “Come out, Ned and Bob.”
The two boys came from their place of concealment. Noddy did not appear to notice them.
“You heard what he said,” spoke Jerry, “what do you say?”
“One day more will do no harm,” said Bob, who felt a little compassion for Noddy, unfriendly as the bully had always been.
“All right,” said Jerry, and Ned nodded in assent to the stout boy’s proposal. “We will say nothing for another twenty-four hours, Noddy. Meet us here at this time to-morrow and we will decide what is to be done.”
“I will,” replied Noddy as he hurried away.
“Well, I’m glad that’s over,” remarked Jerry. “I hated to do it, but I felt it ought to be done. Now to go and tell Mr. Slade that Noddy has confessed, and see what’s to be done to-morrow.”
When Mr. Slade had been informed of the outcome of the interview with Noddy, he said the boys had acted with caution and wisely.
“We will see if Noddy intends to settle and pay back the money,” said Ned’s father. “If he does not it is only right that his father should be informed, also the sheriff and Mr. Judson.”
There was nothing to do but to wait until the next day. The three chums spent some time in wondering what Noddy would do. Then Ned exclaimed:
“Say, we’re forgetting all about the race. Here it is Tuesday. The day after to-morrow we’ll have to make a try for that touring car, and we ought to be practicing.”
“Yes, and our wheels need overhauling,” suggested Jerry. “I’m going to put in new batteries. Don’t want to run any risk of the motor missing explosions when we’re on the track, you know.”
This was voted a wise precaution, and the motor boys separated, to go home after their cycles, agreeing to meet in the afternoon on the track for practice runs.
Through a good part of the afternoon they went around and around at moderate speed, testing their motors thoroughly and practicing the turns. Others were doing the same, and no especial attention was drawn to our three heroes.
Along about five o’clock, most of the other prospective contestants having gone off, Jerry suggested it would be a good time to give the three motors a friendly trial. Accordingly a flying start was made from the judges’ stand, and each of the three boys soon had his cycle going at almost top speed.
At first there seemed to be little to choose from among them. They hung well together at the start, and then Ned began to forge ahead a little. He had acquired more momentum than the others, perhaps, or the difference that exists in two motors made exactly the same, gave his wheel one or two more revolutions a minute than Jerry’s or Bob’s.
“Are you on full speed?” asked Jerry at length.
“No,” replied Ned and Bob.
“Turn on all the power you can,” was the suggestion. “Let’s see what we really can do on the track.”
The muffled explosions at once became more rapid. The wheels whizzed around the track faster and faster, and Jerry and Bob began to creep up on Ned, who was leading. Then they passed him, and he was half a length behind. Again Jerry forged in front of Bob, and it seemed that the prize motor was going to prove the fastest.
But a careful eye could see that Bob was beginning to regain his lost ground. The distance between his wheel and Jerry’s lessened until, after two more rounds Jerry and the stout youth were riding exactly on a line. Ned was perhaps a length behind.
“I guess this will do,” called Jerry. “Shut down!”
Slowly the motors ceased their rapid explosions, and after another turn of the track the three boys came to a halt and dismounted.
“We’re pretty evenly matched,” said Ned. “My machine didn’t do as well as I expected though.”
They separated, arranging to be on hand at the old mill at ten o’clock the following morning, to clear up the last of the mill robbery mystery.
“Jerry, I wish you would take this message over to Mrs. Northrup’s for me,” said Mrs. Hopkins to her son, after supper that evening. “I want her to come and do some sewing for me.”
“All right, mother,” responded the boy.
“Are you going on your machine?” asked his sister.
“No, sis. I don’t want to run any chance of puncturing a tire after dark. It’s too near the race for that. I’m going to walk.”
Off Jerry started. Mrs. Northrup lived in a cottage about a mile from Mrs. Hopkins. She was a widow who went out dressmaking. To get to her house Jerry had to pass the handsome residence of Mr. Nixon.
He looked at it as he went by on his way to deliver the message. There seemed to be no one about, and Jerry wondered if Noddy was at home, and what he was doing. Mrs. Northrup was in, and, as she wanted to write a reply to the note Jerry had brought, he had to wait a few minutes. Then the widow asked him all about himself and his family, and inquired about the coming race, which she had heard Jerry was interested in.
So, though the boy had meant to stay but a short time, he was there the better part of an hour, and, when he had the answer to his mother’s note and was on his way back, it was nine o’clock and quite dark.
As Jerry came in front of the Nixon residence he was surprised to see no lights in the house.
“That’s queer,” he said to himself. “The place is usually well lighted, for they always have company there. I guess Mr. and Mrs. Nixon must be away from home.”
He was about to pass on when he noticed a faint glimmer of light near the automobile shed, Mr. Nixon having recently purchased a big touring car.
“Rather dangerous to go out there with a lantern,” Jerry thought, “especially if they have oil and gasolene stored there. I wonder if Noddy is there?”
There was a side street, rather narrow and seldom used, which extended along the Nixon property to the left. It passed close to the automobile shed, and a drive-way had been constructed to enable the machine to be taken out into the side roadway if desired.
Having nothing particular to hurry him, and being of a curious turn of mind, Jerry decided that he would walk down the narrow thoroughfare and look at the new automobile shed, which he had not seen at close range. Accordingly he turned from the main street and soon found himself opposite the shed. He stopped to look at it, and, as he did so, he heard voices in conversation. At the same time the flicker of a light through a crack in the shed door could be seen.
“I wonder if it’s thieves trying to steal the machine,” thought Jerry. “Guess I’ll watch a little while.”
He took a position behind a tree where he could see what went on without being observed. The voices in the shed grew louder.
“I tell you I will take it!” some one exclaimed.
“That’s Noddy,” said Jerry softly.
“I know what I’m doing,” Noddy went on, seemingly in answer to an objection from some one whose words Jerry could not distinguish. “You can come along if you want to, or stay behind.”
Jerry shrank closer behind the tree. There was a glare of light as the shed door was opened, and in the beams the boy could distinguish the form of Bill Berry. That he and Noddy were planning some new escapade was evident.
“Is it all right?” asked Noddy, sticking his head out of the door.
“Yes.”
“Come on then,” went on the bully. “Put out the light. We’ve got to escape in the darkness. It’s a good thing the folks are away to-night. Well, here is where we leave Cresville behind, and those three cubs that got me into this trouble!”
Jerry heard the sound of the motor car being cranked up. Then, as he waited in the darkness, he saw the big touring machine glide out of the shed under Noddy’s guidance.
“Jump in, Bill!” called the youth, and Berry did as requested.
Noddy threw in the gear clutch, and the machine rolled slowly down the inclined drive-way to the street, right opposite Jerry, who still crouched behind the tree.
“He’s running away in his father’s automobile!” Jerry exclaimed softly. “I wonder if I ought to give an alarm?”
The motor car was now turning out into the main thoroughfare. It bore no lights and made scarcely any noise.
“No,” thought Jerry. “Let him go. It may be better that way.”
And so Noddy, afraid to face the consequences of his confessed crime, fled from his home. Pondering over what would be the outcome on the morrow, Jerry went home and to bed, resolving to get up early and tell his chums what he had seen.
“Have you heard the news—great excitement—big robbery—Mr. Nixon’s automobile stolen—Noddy kidnapped—terrible—awful—whoop!”
Andy Rush let out the above avalanche of words as he met Ned the next morning, as the merchant’s son was on his way to see Jerry.
“What’s all that, Andy?”
“Last night! Somebody kidnapped the auto and rode off in Noddy—fearful—terrible—I mean some one kidnapped Noddy and rode off in the auto! I’m all excited!”
“I can see that without being told,” remarked Ned. “But can’t you calm down a bit and explain.”
Andy tried but it was hard work. Ned gathered that something out of the ordinary had happened. As soon as he could leave Andy he hurried to Jerry’s house.
“Have you heard the news?” asked Ned.
“About Noddy and the auto?”
“Yes.”
“I was there when it happened.”
“You don’t mean it! Tell me all about it!”
Thereupon Jerry did. He had no sooner finished than Bob appeared and wanted the particulars.
“Have you told any one about this?” asked Ned.
“Only you two.”
“Then we’d better go and tell father. He expects us to meet Noddy again at ten o’clock to-day.”
The three chums called on Mr. Slade. He was greatly surprised at what Jerry had to tell, and he agreed that no especial good would have come from Jerry having given an alarm at the time.
“I must see Mr. Nixon and explain the situation to him,” said Mr. Slade. “The sheriff had better be told also. You boys might as well come along, to give certain details.”
In a little while the three boys, with Mr. Slade, were in the drawing room of the Nixon home. Mr. Nixon, looking worn and pale, greeted them. Mr. Slade went over the whole story, occasionally calling on one or the other of the boys as to certain facts. He told the circumstances from the time Ned saw the light in the mill until the happenings of the previous night, when Jerry saw Noddy run away in the automobile.
“I am deeply grieved at my son’s conduct,” said Mr. Nixon. “It is a bitter blow to me. I thank you Mr. Slade, and you boys also, for being so considerate as not to publish the story broadcast. I have shame enough without that.
“I shall pay back the thousand dollars Noddy took. I will ask you, Mr. Slade to be a witness to that transaction. As far as the automobile is concerned, that was my property, and, in order to save my son from being branded as a double thief, I here and now make him a present of the machine. So he is in something that belongs to him. I only hope he comes back, for I love him in spite of his faults.
“I agree with you, Mr. Slade, that the sheriff must be informed. It is only due Ned, to clear him of all suspicion, though any one who knew him would be sure he was never guilty. That is all that can be done, I believe. When I pay Mr. Judson the money he has lost he will have no reason for proceeding against my son. This ends the mill robbery mystery forever I hope. Once again I thank you all for your consideration.”
Mr. Slade quietly motioned for the boys to withdraw and Mr. Nixon was left alone in his grief and sorrow. That afternoon Mr. Slade accompanied Noddy’s father to Mr. Judson and the stolen money was repaid. The mill owner agreed to begin no legal proceedings against the misguided young man. Nor was there any charge against Bill Berry, though Mr. Nixon said he wished Noddy was out of the bad man’s influence. When the sheriff was told of the circumstances and informed that the case had been settled he announced that he was satisfied.
“I always did like the looks of you, Ned,” he remarked, “and I was sorry to arrest you, but duty is duty, you know, as the elephant said when he squirted water in the face of the man who stuck a pin in him.”
The boys did not quite see the connection, but decided to let it go at that. The sheriff, who had called on Mr. Slade, at the latter’s request, went off, and said the case was ended as far as he was concerned.
“And now to get ready for the race to-morrow!” cried Jerry. “Everything is straightened out, and we only have to think of winning. Hurrah!”
Each one was up bright and early the next morning, though the races did not start until two o’clock in the afternoon. It was a beautiful September day, just cool enough to take the temper from a warm sun, and with only a light breeze blowing.
Somehow the morning passed. The boys made one trip to the grounds without their machines, and found men busy raising the banks at the turns of the course, so that there would be less danger to the riders. The turns were banked with wood, although the track itself was a hard dirt one.
Though it seemed hours and hours until the hands of the clock approached the “two” mark, they did eventually. Shortly before one o’clock, however, the boys were at the track. Old Pete Bumps was there ahead of them, having been sent over by Mr. Baker.
“Here we all be, happy and free,” said Pete, as he greeted the boys.
“Here, just stay near the machines,” said Bob. “And mind, don’t go away from them, no matter if some one offers you a pipe, cigars, tobacco and matches.”
“That I will not, I will stay on the spot,” said Pete, gravely.
“My, what a crowd!” exclaimed Ned.
And indeed there was a big gathering. The grand stand was almost filled, and the bleachers completely, while hundreds stood up all the way around the oval track. There were many ladies and gentlemen, club members and citizens of Cresville, besides any number of boys and girls.
The Cresville Athletic Club was a well known one, and the big prizes offered for the motor-cycle race had attracted riders from all over the state. There were thirty starters, and, as the track was not wide enough for them all to line up at once it had been decided to get them away in three batches of ten each, the second squad to start off after the first finished, and the third after the second.
The boys made quick work of getting into their racing togs. Then, with fifteen minutes to spare before the five minute warning gun would send all practicers from the course, they went out on the track. They found their machines were working to perfection, and each one, in his secret heart, hoped he would win the coveted first prize.
It seemed no more than a few minutes before a gun went off, and a man with a megaphone began shouting to have the track cleared. People scurried for their seats, and there was a tense feeling in the air, that always precedes a test of strength and endurance. Riders hurried from the course to give a last drop of oil to their machines. Late coming contestants were busy pinning their numbers on their shirts, and, altogether there was a scene of confusion.
Though it was the largest race the three chums had ever been in, they kept cool. They had all their arrangements made, and soon, with all the other riders they were called to the judges’ stand. They were briefly told of the rules, and then lots were drawn to determine in what squad the riders were to start off.
Ned, Bob and Jerry each drew different numbers. Ned was to start off with the first batch, Jerry with the second, and Bob with the third.
In this way it would not be known until the very last squad had finished who had won, and thus interest would be maintained until the end.
“Bang!” another shot was fired. It indicated that the races would start in two minutes.
“Go in and win, Ned,” advised Jerry as he and Bob left their chum with the riders of the first batch.
“The same to you!” exclaimed Ned.
“Line up!” called the starter, and the ten riders mounted their machines, which were held for them by men engaged for the purpose by the club. There was a moment of suspense!
“Go!” shouted the starter, at the same time firing his revolver.
The riders, shoved off by those who held the machines, pedaled furiously, and then, having sufficient momentum, started the motors. It sounded as if a battery of gatling guns had gone into action, for most of the contestants, in an endeavor to lighten their cycles, had taken off the mufflers, and the wild cheer that was given by the spectators as the batch started off was drowned to the contestants by reason of the gas explosions.
Ned handled his machine well, and secured a good place, about third from the front. He quickly had his motor going at full speed, and he was delighted to see that he was increasing his lead over the man behind him. He was slowly creeping up on the man ahead of him, when the latter looked back. Then he turned on a little more power, and slowly drew away from Ned. The boy knew, then, that there was at least one machine faster than his.
Around and around the track the riders went. They took the turns at dangerous speed, and one man had a spill that put him out of the contest. Another burst a tire and had to withdraw. Ned managed to pass one of the men in front of him, but by that time some one had come up from the rear, and he still found himself third.
Suddenly, as he passed the judges’ stand, he heard a revolver shot, and saw a red flag waved. It indicated that there were two laps more.
On the eight riders swept like the wind, and, a quarter of a mile from the finish, one of the riders in front of Ned began to slacken speed. His batteries had failed at the last moment, and Ned rushed past him, a good second in the first squad.
“Fine!” exclaimed Jerry as he and Bob rushed up to congratulate him. “I only hope I do as well!”
“I want to see you do better,” said Ned.
Little time was lost in getting the second detachment off. Again the explosions sounded and the air was rent with cheers. Jerry had secured a good start, but he had not made more than two laps before he was aware that a plan to get him into a pocket was being made. He tried to avoid it but he was pitted against racers of skill, most of them grown men.
Once inside the fatal “V” shaped formation of riders Jerry gave the race up for lost. His machine was going almost at top speed. He managed to get directly behind the fourth man in the left leg of the “V,” and hung there, hoping some chance might offer. He knew he could make a good record if he was allowed to escape.
Then, when there was but a mile of the race left, there came a chance. The man behind whom he was riding burst a tire. He fell from his machine and there would have been a serious smash-up had not Jerry quickly and skillfully turned aside, shot through the gap made by the missing fourth rider, and, swinging away from the pole a bit, taken his place second from the leader. Jerry threw his motor on to full speed. The man in the lead had his there already.
Jerry was hopeful. There was one lap more and his machine was working like a charm. He was but ten feet behind the leader, whose cycle was working to the limit, and Jerry saw that he was slowly but surely forging ahead.
Then one of those things happened that come so unexpectedly and so inexplainably to gasolene motors. Jerry’s suddenly refused to work. The explosions ceased. He worked the pedals frantically, but it was of no use. The batch of riders swept past him, and he saw with regret and chagrin that he was distanced.
“There goes my chance!” he said sorrowfully as he dismounted and pushed his machine from the track. “All our hope is in Bob now!”
No sooner was the second squad of riders out of the way than the third batch came hurrying on the track. They were lined up, the pistol cracked, and away they went. Ned and Jerry, who had found a good place to watch, strained their eyes for a sight of Bob.
“He’s close to the front!” cried Ned.
“No, he’s away to the rear,” said Jerry, and so it proved.
By some mischance Bob was third from the rear as the riders swept around on the first lap.
“He doesn’t look discouraged,” said Jerry. “Maybe he is running his motor slow, and trying to keep out of a pocket.”
“I hope so,” grunted Ned.
With the exception of two riders well to the fore, and Bob and two others in the rear, the contestants were pretty well bunched. For several laps no one gained an advantage. One man tried to steal up, but he was promptly pocketed and lost whatever chance he had.
“Why doesn’t Bob do something? There are only two miles more!” groaned Ned.
“Watch him!” cried Jerry suddenly. “I believe he’s been hanging back on purpose, so as not to get in a pocket.”
Ned gazed with straining eyes. Certainly Bob seemed to be increasing his speed. He was sixth from the last. Another lap was reeled off. Bob crept up two more places.
“Bang!” went the gun. The red flag was waved. There were two more laps and the race would be over.
“He’s got to do something quick now!” exclaimed Jerry.
“And I’ll bet he’s going to do it!” exclaimed Ned as Bob swept past, a look of determination on his face.
Then, while the big crowd looked on, almost holding its breath, something happened. Bob turned the levers of his machine with a quick motion. He shot forward on his machine as an arrow leaves a bow. Outside and around the bunch of riders he swept! Past the two confident leaders he went! Up ahead to the very front he forged while a mighty shout went up!
“If he can only keep it!” cried Ned, and his voice had something of agony in it.
And keep it Bob did. He held his place the rest of that lap and during the next, though he was close pressed, and swept across the line a winner!
“He wins this heat! I wonder if he wins the race!” cried Jerry.
Their doubts were set at rest a minute later. The announcer, with his big megaphone invited silence with uplifted hand.
“Race won by Robert Baker!” he shouted. “Second was Timothy Wilson, and third William Jones. Time of the winner—”
But the crowd never stopped to hear what the official time was. With wild shouts, with the tossing of hats and canes in the air, they cheered again and again for Bob.
“He’s won the race! He’s won the race!” cried Ned jumping about and slapping Jerry on the back. “Now for our touring car!”
Ned and Jerry had a hard time making their way through the throng to where Bob stood. The crowd evinced a desire to catch up the victor and carry him on their shoulders. That a boy of his age should have won a race where many veteran riders contested was no small honor, and the people of Cresville were proud of Bob. Even the girls went wild with delight.
“It was just grand!” cried Alice Vines.
“Oh, I felt like jumping up and down when you won,” came from Mollie Horton.
“I never saw anything more exciting,” put in Helen Gale.
And all three of the young ladies looked as if they wanted to hug the winner of the contest.
But Bob had no desire to be made a hero of, and dodged those who would have done him public honor. He slipped to one side, and managed to join his two chums.
“Fine!” cried Jerry. “However did you do it?”
“I just took it easy until they thought I had no speed in my machine,” answered Bob, smiling. “Then, when I saw a chance, I let it out. I’m sorry you and Ned didn’t win though.”
There were other races to come, bicycle events, a running contest and a test against time by an automobile, but the boys wanted to get off by themselves and talk matters over, so they went to the dressing rooms, donned their street clothes, and, Jerry’s machine having been fixed, all three motors were left in charge of Pete Bumps.
The boys found a quiet corner of the grand stand and sat down to talk.
“Do you still think you’ll ask for an automobile?” inquired Ned.
“Sure. That is if father will let me have one, and I don’t see why he will not.”
“If you get it we’ll have some jolly fun,” spoke Jerry. “Think of what we could do with it! Why, we could even make a trip overland!”
“That’s what we’ll do if our folks will let us,” agreed Bob. “Think of going across the United States in a touring car!”
The athletic contests were soon over. Mr. Wakefield spied Bob in the grand stand.
“You’ll have to come out of that,” he cried with a laugh. “We want you.”
“What for?” asked the boy.
“The winners are to be formally announced in the club house, and their certificates are to be awarded. Come along!”
Rather against his will, for he did not like to be shown off before a crowd, Bob went. His two chums followed. The main room of the club house was filled with people who had witnessed the races. At the sight of Bob they set up a cheer, and the boy would have escaped had not Mr. Wakefield gently detained him.
Then came the announcements of the prizes, and the statement that Bob had come in first, and won the grand trophy, which was to be anything he might select at a cost of two thousand dollars.
“And here is a certificate to that effect,” said Mr. Wakefield, handing him an engraved card. “When you make up your mind what you want, let me know and you shall have it.”
“I know about what I want,” said Bob, “but I’ll have to ask my father first.”
Bob’s father had not had time to go to the races, it being impossible for him to leave the bank, and Bob made up his mind to ride down to the institution and tell the banker the result of the contest. He promised to meet his chums a little later, and let them know how Mr. Baker regarded the automobile project.
“Well, are the races over?” inquired the banker when his son came into the private office.
“Yes, sir.”
“How did you make out? Come in tenth or last?”
“I won.”
“You don’t mean to tell me you got first prize! Not the two thousand dollars?”
“That’s what I did, dad,” replied Bob, laughing.
“Shake hands!” exclaimed the banker. “I’m proud of you, Bob, my boy! What are you going to take as your prize?”
“I—that is we—er—you see,” burst out Bob, “Ned, Jerry and I agreed if either of us won, to ask for a touring automobile.”
“Good land, boy! what do you want of that?”
“We thought we’d take a trip across the country.”
“Well, well! This does beat all!” exclaimed Mr. Baker. “An automobile! Goodness gracious sakes alive! What a boy you are!” and Mr. Baker sighed and laughed by turns.
“Well, what did he say?” asked Ned and Jerry, when the stout youth joined them a little later.
“I think he’ll let me have it,” replied Bob, with all a boy’s positiveness.
“Then hurrah for the trip overland!” cried Ned. “Make way for the Motor Boys in their mad rush across the continent!” How the boys got their coveted auto, and how they went on a long trip, wherein they had many adventures, will be told in the next volume, to be called “The Motor Boys Overland, Or, A Long Trip for Fun and Fortune.”
In it Bob, Ned and Jerry will continue their adventures and, also, will be told how they took part in a mad race across the mountains to the gold mines, and how they met their old acquaintance, Noddy Nixon.
The boys got a taste of the pleasures of riding in an automobile that afternoon. After Bob’s announcement of what he thought his father’s decision would be they strolled about the town. As they were turning a corner they saw a big touring car approaching.
“Why, it’s Mr. Wakefield!” exclaimed Jerry. “I didn’t know he had a machine.”
“I wish he’d ask us to take a ride,” spoke Ned.
The car came nearer, vibrating with the power of its motor. Then it slowed down, ran close to the curb and stopped.
“Hello, boys!” exclaimed Mr. Wakefield. “Want to go for a spin?”
“Do we!” exclaimed Ned. “We were just wishing you would ask us. But I didn’t know you had an automobile.”
“I only got it to-day,” explained the athletic instructor. “I purchased one some time ago, and have been taking lessons in how to run one in Boston. They sent my car out to-day but I didn’t get a chance to try it until now because of the club races. Come on! Jump in!”
The three boys lost no time in complying. Bob got in the front seat with Mr. Wakefield, for he thought if he was to have an auto he had better learn as much about how to run one as he could. Jerry and Ned were in the back. Off they started and made good speed.
“We’ll go out in the country a way,” said Mr. Wakefield. “I know a nice pleasant road.”
Soon the car swung into a broad highway shaded by big trees through which the sun, that was beginning to sink into the west, shone faintly. On and on they went for several miles. Then as the evening shadows were beginning to fall, Mr. Wakefield turned his car toward Cresville, which was reached all too soon for the boys, who had enjoyed their ride greatly.
“Thanks!” they chorused as they alighted. “It was great!”
“Glad you liked it,” returned Mr. Wakefield. “I will take you again, some time.”
“If we only had a car like that!” sighed Jerry, and Bob and Ned echoed his wish.