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

“We will fix this up all right with the judge, officer,” said the leader of the gang. “The court is sitting – yes?”

“I reckon so,” said the cop. “But we’ll run over to the chief’s office first. I shouldn’t be surprised if he’d like to see you.”

The three criminals exchanged glances. They might have shown fight there on the public street, but Dan steered his machine around the maroon car and headed it off. The chauffeur had to stop. The three officers each seized their man and – the arrest was made!

It then became necessary for the boys to go to the office of the chief of police, too. The delay was considerable, but after hearing the story of the Speedwells the commander of the Olin City police force worked quickly.

He called up the Riverdale Bank over the long distance ’phone and Mr. Crawley and Mr. Baird went sponsor for the Speedwell brothers. They were therefore allowed to depart, for the criminals would have to be extradited from this state to the one in which the first crime had been committed.

Burton Poole’s car – and others – had gotten ahead of the Speedwell boys by this time and they had but an hour more to run that day. They whirled out of Olin City, however, in a cloud of dust and made Breckenridge Station, thirty-two miles on the road, in that hour.

When they registered with the timekeeper in Breckenridge they were seven hundred and forty-nine miles over the course. There were two hundred and fifty-nine miles between them and the Compton Motordrome.

“And the worst of the running yet to come,” said Dan. “How many cars did he say were ahead of us?”

“Thirteen have gone on, having from fifteen minutes to two hours to run on to-day’s record. And here comes a slew of them up the street,” said Billy.

Indeed, there was a larger number of cars in Breckenridge that night than there had been at Greenbaugh at the end of the previous day’s run.

In the morning the cars had to be started ten minutes apart as they were at the beginning of the endurance test. And it was raining – a fine, penetrating drizzle – that made the traveling most unpleasant. The wheels skidded, too, and the best car in the race could not make time over the slushy roads.

Besides, the second climb of the mountain chain was just ahead. The Speedwells struck it an hour before noon. Half way up the steep ascent they passed number seven – stuck in the muddy ruts. Chance and Burton were floundering around, trying to pry out their heavy car.

“This isn’t any fun!” shouted Poole, recognizing the Speedwells. “But how did you manage to catch up to us again?”

“We never would have escaped Chance Avery’s friends outside of Greenbaugh if he’d had his way!” cried Billy in reply. “But now I tell you what it is, Burton: It looks to me as though we were seeing you for the last time in this race. Fare thee well!” he added with a mocking smile.

“You’d better not crow too loud, youngster,” growled Dan. “We don’t know what may happen to us yet.”

But nothing could convince Billy now that they hadn’t got Poole’s car beaten. Their own lighter machine worked much better on the heavy road.

There were ten cars in advance of them when the Speedwells reached the pass through the hills and started down the incline which ended at the plain on which Riverdale, Compton, and neighboring towns were built. With seven of these cars they caught up at Lorillord at the end of their fourth day’s run. They were then seventy-two miles from Compton. The three cars ahead were respectively sixty-eight miles, fifty-nine miles, and fifty-six miles from the end of the endurance run.

“If it clears off before morning, we’re beaten,” said Dan, with confidence. “But our car is a regular mudlark. If it keeps on raining we may plough through and catch up to all three of those other cars.”

“Suppose they wait till it clears off before they start to-morrow?” suggested Billy.

“If you’ll read your little book you’ll find that isn’t allowed. There’s only fifteen hours’ recess allowed between the end of one day’s run and the beginning of another.”

The boys were first up in the morning. The weather bureau reported no hope of a change in the falling weather; but the other autoists at the hotel hesitated to set forth early.

Not so, however, Dan and Billy. They had overhauled their car as usual the night before. They were well acquainted with the stretch of road before them. At seven o’clock they wheeled out before the hotel, took the time from the starter, and whirled away, spraying the mud on either side from under their wheels, in a wide fan.

Only one of their rivals was on the road before them, and Dan and Billy raced and passed that car within the first fifteen minutes, and did not see it again until it reached the Compton Motordrome.

There was one car, however, that kept close on their trail. They heard it frequently and sometimes caught glimpses of it; but it was so far away that neither Dan nor Billy could identify it. They, however, feared this speedy car. Indeed, although they knew now that they would arrive first at the end of the run, they were not sure that they would have won this glorious race.

It was with fear and trembling that they passed over the line, ran into the big arena and saw their time marked up on the board: A thousand and eight miles in forty-three hours and four minutes.

The car behind them shot into the motordrome and proved to be Mr. Darringford’s.

“I believe I’ve beat you, boys!” he cried, leaping out of his car.

But the time keeper announced his time as forty-three hours, fifteen minutes, twenty-four seconds.

“I declare!” laughed the gentleman, “it will be nothing to brag of, no matter who wins the gold cup. The weather was against fast running yesterday and this morning. Here comes another!”

It was number seven. The heavy car rolled in beside the Speedwells’ and came to a groaning halt. It was nearly shaken to pieces. Chance had certainly punished his partner’s auto hard during those last few miles.

But to no purpose. Their time was forty-four hours flat, and there were several cars that beat number seven. Burton came and shook hands warmly with Dan and Billy, while Chance sneaked away.

“I just found out about what Chance did to you back at Farmingdale,” Burton said. “I want you to know that I had nothing to do with any such mean business – nor did I know he put his friends at the seminary up to holding you back on the road. Mr. Briggs was at the hotel we stopped at last night and he had the whole story – and about your capturing the motor car robbers, too. I hope you’ve won the race. I’d like to have beaten you if I could have done so fairly; but Chance and I get through with each other right here and now – believe me!”

It was some time before the uncertainty regarding who had captured the race was over. Finally however, it was shown beyond doubt that the Speedwell boys were the winners. The nearest car to their record had made the distance in forty-three hours, nine and one-half minutes. Among the first few cars it had been a remarkably close race.

Dan and Billy went home by train and carried the handsome gold cup with them. The little speech Mr. Briggs made, praising their pluck, and particularly their bravery, made the ears of the boys burn. Their capture of the motor and bank robbers had been printed in the papers and Dan and Billy were lionized not a little when they got home.

The Riverdale Star again had a long story in it about them. And the editor ran a picture of their Breton-Melville car, too. The boys could have sold the auto at a fancy price had they so desired.

“I don’t know but we’re foolish not to take the offer,” said Billy. “We might get a cheaper car, and own a motor launch beside. And I would love to have a launch by next spring.”

But one day Mr. Baird, the bank cashier, sent for them. The boys learned that the three motor thieves had been convicted of the robbery of the bank, and had received sentences aggregating thirteen years.

“The Farmers’ Bank has put to your joint account, boys, the sum of five hundred dollars,” the cashier told them. “We do not claim that that entirely repays you for your work in identifying the robbers and causing their arrest. Mr. Crawley and I both feel we are still your debtors,” and he shook the boys’ hands warmly.

This unexpected windfall perhaps explains why our readers who have become interested in the adventures of Dan and Billy can follow their history further in the next volume of this series, to be entitled, “The Speedwell Boys and Their Power Launch; Or, To the Rescue of the Castaways.”

Dan and Billy remain true to their speedy automobile and to their beautiful Flying Feather motorcycles; but they have conquered swift locomotion on the land; now they long to try their fortunes on the water. And having proved themselves to be courageous, industrious and honorable we may believe thoroughly in their future success.