Bert Wilson's Twin Cylinder Racer Read online

  CHAPTER III

  FROM COAST TO COAST

  The next few days flew by with magical swiftness. There were a thousandthings to be done, and Bert found himself wishing that each day had ahundred hours instead of twenty-four. The term examinations were on, andhe buckled down to them manfully. He had never neglected his class workin favor of athletic sports and his standing had always been high. Heworked as hard as he played, and in both study and games was up in thefront rank.

  But when these ordeals were over and he had passed triumphantly, everyspare moment was devoted to the coming race. He put into his preparationall his heart and soul. And in this, he was ably aided and abetted byReddy, the college trainer.

  "Reddy," as he was called from the flaming mop of hair that adorned hisfar from classic brow, was a character. For many years he had been incomplete control of the football, baseball and general track teams ofthe college. He had formerly been a crack second baseman in a majorleague, but an injured ankle had forced his withdrawal from the activeplaying ranks. He had a shrewd, though uneducated, mind, and hisknowledge of sports and ability as a trainer had made him famous in theathletic world. His dry wit and genial disposition made him a greatfavorite with the boys, though he ruled with an iron hand whendiscipline was needed.

  He was especially proud and fond of Bert for two reasons. In the firstplace, his trainers' soul rejoiced in having such a superb physicalspecimen to develop into a winner. He had so often been called upon to"make bricks without straw," that he exulted in this splendid materialready to his hand. And when his faith had been justified by the greatvictories that Bert had won, Reddy felt that it was, in part, his ownpersonal triumph.

  Then, too, Bert had never shirked or broken training. His sense of honorwas high and fine, and he kept as rigidly to his work in the trainer'sabsence as in his presence. Reddy had never had to put detectives on histrack or search him out in the poolrooms and saloons of the town. He wastrue to himself, true to his team, true to his college, and could alwaysbe counted on to be in first-class condition.

  So that, although this was not a college event, Reddy took a keenpersonal interest in the coming contest. Every afternoon, he held thewatch while Bert circled the track, and he personally superintended thebath and rubdown, after the test was over. He knew the exact weight atwhich his charge was most effective, and he took off the superfluousflesh just fast enough not to weaken him. And his Irish blue eyestwinkled with satisfaction, as he noted that just now he had never seenhim in better shape for the task that lay before him.

  "Ye'll do," he said, with an air of finality, two days before the race,as he snapped his split-second chronometer, after a whirlwind sprint."I'll not tell ye jist the time ye made for that last five miles, as Idon't want ye to get the swelled head. But, my word for it, ye're onedge, and I don't want ye to touch that machine again until ye face thestarter. Ye're down fine enough and I don't want ye to go stale beforethe race begins. I've left jist enough beef on ye to give ye a wee bitof a margin to work off. The rest is solid bone and muscle, and, if themachine is as good as yerself, ye'll get to the coast first withsomething to spare."

  "Well," said Bert warmly, "it will be your victory as well as mine if Ido. You're my 'one best bet' when it comes to getting into form. Iwouldn't have had half a chance to pull off any of the stunts I have, ifit hadn't been for you."

  But Reddy tossed this lightly aside.

  "Not a bit of it," he protested, "'tis yersilf has done the work, andyersilf should get the credit. And ye've done it too in the face ofaccident and hard luck. This time I'm hoping that luck will be on yerside. And to make sure," he grinned, "I'm going to give yer a sprig offour-leaved shamrock that came to me from the folks at home, lastseventeenth of March. 'Twill not be hurting ye any to have it along withyer."

  "Sure thing," laughed Bert. "I'll slip it in the tool box and carry itevery foot of the way."

  And as Reddy had groomed Bert, so Bert groomed his machine. Every nutand bolt, valve and spring was gone over again and again, until even hiscritical judgment was satisfied. It was to carry not only his fortunebut perhaps his life, and he did not rest until he was convinced thatnothing could add to its perfection. It had become almost a part ofhimself, and it was with a feeling of reluctance that at last he had itcarefully crated and sent on to the starting point, to await his comingforty-eight hours later.

  That evening, as he returned from the post office, he met Tom and Dickat the foot of the steps leading to their dormitory. He waved at them anopen letter that he had been reading.

  "It's from the Committee," he explained. "It gives the route and finalinstructions. Come up to the rooms and we'll go over it together."

  A bond of friendship, far from common, united these three comrades--the"Three Guardsmen," as they were jokingly called, because they were soconstantly together. They had first met at a summer camp, some yearsbefore, and a strong similarity of character and tastes had drawn themto each other at once. From that time on, it had been "one for three andthree for one."

  Full to the brim as they were of high spirits and love of adventure,they often got into scrapes from which it required all their nerve andingenuity to emerge with a whole skin. Their supreme confidence inthemselves often led them to take chances from which older and wiserheads would have shrunk. And the various exploits in which they hadindulged had taught each how fully and absolutely he might rely on theothers. On more than one occasion, death itself had been among thepossibilities, but even that supreme test had been met withoutflinching.

  Only a few months before, when, on their journey through Mexico, Dickhad fallen into the hands of El Tigre, the dreaded leader of guerillas,Bert and Tom had taken the trail at once, and after a most excitingchase, had rescued him from the bandit's clutches. During a trip to theAdirondacks, Tom had been bitten by a rattler and would have perished,had it not been for Bert's quickness of mind and swiftness of foot. AndBert himself never expected to come closer to death than that day on theSan Francisco wharf, when Dick had grasped the knife hand of the Malayrunning amuck, just as it was upraised to strike.

  Any man or any danger that threatened one would have to count ontackling three. Each knew that in a pinch the others would stick atnothing in the effort to back him up. And this conviction, growingstronger with every new experience, had cemented their friendship beyondall possibility of breaking.

  Their early ties had ripened and broadened under the influence of theircollege life. Dick had entered a year before the other two, and it wasthis that had moved them to choose the same Alma Mater. Dick and Tomwere studying to be civil engineers, while Bert was more strongly drawntoward the field of electricity and wireless telegraphy. Their keenintelligence had won them high honors in scholarship, and their brawnand muscle had achieved an enviable distinction in athletics. On thepennant winning team of the year before, Bert's brilliant pitching hadbeen ably supported by the star work of Tom at third, while Dick, besidebeing the champion slugger of the team, had held down first base like aveteran. All were immensely popular with the student body in general,not only for their prowess, but because of the qualities of mind andheart that would have singled them out anywhere as splendid specimens ofyoung American manhood.

  Bert and Dick roomed together, while Tom's quarters were on the floorbelow. Now, as it was nearer, they all piled into Tom's sitting-room,eager to discuss the contents of the official letter.

  "Here it is," said Bert, as he tossed it over to the others. "You see, Ihave the southern route."

  "O, thunder," groaned Tom, "the toughest of the lot. You'll fairly meltdown there at this time of year."

  "It _is_ rough," said Dick. "The roads there are something fierce. Thenorthern or central route would have been ten times better."

  "Yes," agreed Bert, "it certainly is a handicap. If I'd been left tochoose, myself, I wouldn't have dreamed of going that way. Still, it'sall a matter of lot, and I've got no kick coming. Somebody would havehad to draw it, and I might as well be the victim as
any one else."

  "Spoken like a sport, all right," grumbled Tom. "But it makes me sore atfate. You'll need something more than Reddy's shamrock to make up forit."

  "You might hunt me up the hind foot of a rabbit, shot by a cross-eyedcoon in a graveyard, in the 'dark of the moon,' if you want to make sureof my winning," jested Bert. "But, seriously, fellows, I'm not going tolet that rattle me a little bit. It may be harder, but if I do come infirst, there'll be all the more credit in winning. As for the heat,I'll make my own breeze as I go along, and I'll take my chances on theroads."

  "Well, I suppose there's no use growling," admitted Tom, grudgingly. "Atany rate, we'll see a section of the country we've never seen before."

  "_We_," cried Bert. "What do you mean by that?"

  "Just what I say," answered Tom, looking a little guiltily at Dick.

  "What," yelled Bert, leaping to his feet. "Are you two rascals goingalong?"

  "Surest thing you know," said Dick, calmly. "Did you think for a minutethat Tom and I would miss the fun of seeing you scoot across thecontinent and win that ten thousand dollars? Not on your life. We weregoing to surprise you, but since this dub has let the cat out of thebag, we might as well own up. There's nothing to do, now that we knowthe route but to go out and get the tickets."

  "Well, you're a pair of bricks," gasped Bert. "The finest pals a fellowever had. That's the best news I've had 'since Hector was a pup.' Ididn't know that I'd see a friend's face from the start to the finish.Talk about shamrocks and rabbit's feet! This news has got them skinnedto death. It won't be any trick at all to toss off a few hundred miles,if I can figure on seeing you fellows when I turn in for the night.Say, fellows, I can't put it into words, but you know how I feel."

  "Pure selfishness on our part," said Dick, airily, to mask his own deepfeeling. "We want to see the San Francisco Fair, and figured that we'dnever have a better chance."

  "Yes," mocked Bert, delightedly, "I size up that selfishness all right.But now let's study the route and figure out the schedule. Then you gaydeceivers can get through tickets with stopover privileges, and I'llknow just where to find you along the way."

  "You see," explained Tom, "we figured that we could get into the bigtowns ahead of you and act as a sort of base of supplies. You can keeptab on the way the 'Blue Streak' is running, and if anything goeswrong--if a tire bursts or a fork breaks or you have engine trouble--youcan wire ahead and we'll have everything ready for you to make alightning change the minute you heave in sight. Of course, you may haveto do some temporary patching and tinkering along the way, but in reallybig things we may come in handy. But now let's cut out the hallelujahsand get down to brass tacks."

  Which they did to such good effect that before they turned in for thenight, they had outlined a plan that covered every probable contingency.Of course there was no such precision possible as in the case of arailroad schedule. A hundred things might happen to cause a change here,a delay there, but, between certain elastic limits, the route and timewere carefully worked out. If they should have to revise it, as theydoubtless would, the telegraph and long distance telephone could bedepended on to help them out.

  Starting from New York, Bert figured that the first leg of the journeywould take him as far as Philadelphia. This, of course, would not betypical of the regular distance he would have to cover each day, inorder to beat the time record. But the race was not to start until noon,so that a half day was all that would be left the riders. And that halfday would be slower than the average, because they would have to threadthe streets of the greater city with all its hindrances and speedregulations, and would have bridges and ferries to cross before theycould fairly let themselves out. Of course this would not count for aday in the timing, as they would be allowed a half day at the end of thejourney to make up for it. In other words, the day ran from noon tonoon, instead of from midnight to midnight.

  From Philadelphia the route would lead to Baltimore and Washington. Thenhe proposed to strike down through West Virginia and into the famousBlue Grass region of Kentucky and thence swing down toward Little Rock,Arkansas, which would mark the extreme southern point of the journey.After that, he would be going almost directly west, with a slight trendto the north. He would cut through Oklahoma on a direct horizontal, andthen for a short time traverse the upper part of Texas. Leaving the LoneStar State, he would strike in succession Santa Fe, New Mexico, andFlagstaff, Arizona. Then, at last, he would be in California, getting aglimpse of the sea at Santa Barbara, and then sweeping up the valley toSan Francisco.

  The record he had to beat was twenty days. He planned to do it infifteen. That is, he was confident that as far as mere time wereconcerned, he could reel off enough miles every day to take him over theroute within that limit. But that was assuming that everything wentsmoothly, and, in a trip of this length, he knew that such an assumptionwas absurd. He gave himself three days for accidents and delays. This,added to the fifteen of actual running time, would still give him acomfortable margin of forty-eight hours. But, on the average, despiteaccident or breakdown, wind or rain, sickness or health, mistaken roadsor dangerous spills, flood or freshet or tempest, he must make from twoto three hundred miles every day. Not only he must be in shape to do it,but the "Blue Streak" also. There were two machines that had to takeall the chances of wear and tear and mishap--the physical machine abovethe saddle, and the steel and rubber machine below it.

  He wanted to make the most of the good roads that he would have at thevery beginning of the trip. The first three days would be the best ones,as far as this feature was concerned. The Eastern and Northern Stateswere far ahead of the rest of the country in this respect. Their wealthand population, as well as the vastly greater number of motor vehiclesin use, had early turned their attention to the value and necessity ofthe best kind of roads that money could buy and science invent. After heleft Louisville, the going would be harder. While, at places, therewould be magnificent turnpikes along the main arteries of travel, thesewould be more than counterbalanced by roads where clay and sandpredominated. But, to make up for this, would be the fact that for longdistances the roads would be clearer and the speed regulations lessstringent. And, on these stretches, Bert promised himself to "hit it up"hard enough to compensate for the inferior quality of the road. It was"all in the game," and, in the long run, things would about even up.

  "It's a good deal of a lottery, when all is said and done," was the wayhe summed it up, as they rose from the maps and papers spread out beforethem; "I may get knocked out on the first day, and then again I mayturn up smiling at the finish."

  "Of course," assented Tom, "there's no telling what may happen beforethe race is over. But I have a hunch that in this lottery you are goingto draw the capital prize."

  "Well," laughed Bert, "if you're as good a prophet as you are a pal, I'dbe sure of it."