Читать книгу Dave Porter and the Runaways: or, Last Days at Oak Hall - Stratemeyer Edward - Страница 4

The girls screamed and the boys uttered various cries and words of advice. Dave leaned forward, to jam on the hand-brake, but his uncle was ahead of him in the action. The foot-brake was already down, and from the rear wheels came a shrill squeaking, as the bands gripped the hubs. But the hill was a steep one and the big touring car, well laden, continued to move downward, although but slowly.

“Keep over! Keep over to the right!” yelled Dunston Porter, to the driver of the buggy. But the man was fully as excited as his horse, and he continued to saw on the reins, until the turnout occupied the very center of the narrow and torn-up highway.

It was a time of peril, and a man less used to critical moments than Dunston Porter might have lost his head completely. But this old traveler and hunter, who had faced grizzly bears in the West and lions in Africa, managed to keep cool. He saw a chance to pass on the right of the turnout ahead, and like a flash he let go on the two brakes and turned on a little power. Forward bounded the big car, the right wheels on the very edge of a water-gully. The left mud-guards scraped the buggy, and the man driving it uttered a yell of fright. Then the touring car went on, to come to a halt at the bottom of the hill, a short distance away.

“Hello!” exclaimed Dave, as he looked back at the turnout that had caused the trouble. “It’s Mr. Poole!”

“You mean Nat’s father?” queried Phil.

“Yes.”

“Hi, you! What do you mean by running into me?” stormed the money-lender, savagely, as he presently managed to get his steed under control and came down beside the touring car.

“What do you mean by blocking the road, Mr. Poole?” returned Dunston Porter, coldly.

“I didn’t block the road!”

“You certainly did. If we had run into you, it would have been your fault.”

“Nonsense! You passed me on the wrong side.”

“Because you didn’t give me room to pass on the other side.”

“And your horn scared my horse.”

“I don’t see how that is my fault. Your horse ought to be used to auto-horns by this time.”

“You’ve scraped all the paint off my carriage, and I had it painted only last week,” went on the money-lender, warming up. “It’s an outrage how you auto fellows think you own the whole road!”

“I won’t discuss the matter now, Mr. Poole,” answered Dunston Porter, stiffly. “I think it was your fault entirely. But if you think otherwise, come and see me when I get back from this trip, which will be in four days.” And without waiting for more words, Dave’s uncle started up the touring car, and Aaron Poole was soon left far behind.

“If he isn’t a peach!” murmured Roger, slangily. “It’s easy to see where Nat gets his meanness from. He is simply a chip off the old block.”

“He’s a pretty big chip,” returned Phil, dryly.

“I don’t see how he can blame us,” said Dave. “We simply couldn’t pass him on the left. If we had tried, we’d have gone in the ditch sure. And the scraping we did to his buggy amounts to next to nothing.”

“I am not afraid of what he’ll do,” said Dunston Porter. “A couple of dollars will fix up those scratches, and if he is so close-fisted I’ll foot the bill. But I’ll give him a piece of my mind for blocking the road.”

“But his horse was frightened, Uncle Dunston,” said Laura.

“A little, yes, but if Poole hadn’t got scared himself he might have drawn closer to the side of the road. I think he was more frightened than the horse.”

“He certainly was,” declared Phil. “When we scraped the buggy his face got as white as chalk, and he almost dropped the lines.”

“He’ll hate all of us worse than ever for this,” was Dave’s comment.

“I am not afraid of him,” answered the uncle.

On and on sped the big touring car, and soon the stirring incident on the road was, for the time being, forgotten. Crumville had been left far behind, and now they passed through one pretty village after another. On the broad, level stretches Dunston Porter allowed the boys to “spell” him at the wheel, for each knew how to run an automobile.

“Twenty miles more to Ryeport!” cried Dave, as they came to a crossroads and read a signboard.

“And it’s just half-past five,” added the senator’s son, consulting his watch. “We’ll get there in plenty of time to wash up and have a fine dinner.”

“And, say, maybe we won’t do a thing to that table!” murmured Phil, smacking his lips.

“Oh, you boys are always hungry,” was Jessie’s comment.

“Well, you know, we’ve got to grow,” answered Phil, with a grin.

“I think I’ll enjoy eating after such a long ride,” said Laura. “The fresh air certainly does give one an appetite.”

“I think I’ll order bread and milk for all hands,” remarked Dunston Porter, with a sly smile.

“Bread and milk!” murmured Jessie, in dismay.

“Sure. It’s famous for your complexion.”

“A juicy steak for mine!” cried Dave. “Steak, and vegetables, and salad, and pudding or pie.”

“Well, I guess that will do for me, too,” said his uncle, simply. “You see, I suppose I’ll have to eat to keep you company,” and he smiled again.

“Uncle Dunston, what a tease you are!” murmured Laura. “Your appetite is just as good as that of any of the boys.”

Dave was at the wheel, and he sent the touring car along the smooth highway at a speed of twenty miles an hour. He would have liked to drive faster, but his uncle would not permit this.

“The law says twenty miles an hour, and I believe in obeying the law,” said Dunston Porter. “Besides, you can never tell what may happen, and it is best to have your car under control.”

The truth of the latter remark was demonstrated less than five minutes later, when they came to another crossroads. Without warning of any kind, a racing car came rushing swiftly from one direction and a coach from the other. Dave could not cross ahead of the racing car, and the approach of the coach from the opposite direction cut him off from turning with the car. So all that was left to do was to jam on both brakes, which he did, and then, as the racing car shot past, he released the wheels and went on, just ahead of the coach. But it was a narrow escape all around, and the girls and Roger leaped to their feet in alarm.

“Phew! see them streak along!” was Phil’s comment, gazing after the racing car, which was fast disappearing in a cloud of dust.

“They ought to be arrested!” was Laura’s comment. “Why, we might have been smashed up!”

“Good work, Davy!” cried Dunston Porter. “You did just the right thing.”

“Even if that coach driver is shaking his fist at us, eh?” answered Dave, and he bobbed his head in the direction of the coach, which had hauled up but was now going on.

“If you had been going a little faster it would have been all up with us,” said Phil, with a grave shake of his head.

“Let me take the wheel now,” said Dunston Porter, quietly, and Dave slid out of the driving-seat willingly enough, for the excitement had left him somewhat limp.

Half-past six found them in Ryeport, and a few minutes later they rolled up to the National Hotel, and the girls and boys got out, while Mr. Porter took the car around to the garage. They had sent word ahead for rooms, and all soon felt at home. The girls had a fine apartment on the second floor, front, with Dunston Porter next to them, and the three boys in a big room across the hallway.

When the young people assembled in the dining-room, after brushing and washing up, a surprise awaited them. They had a table to themselves, ordered by Dunston Porter, and decorated with a big bouquet of roses and carnations. A full course dinner was served.

“Oh, this is lovely!” cried Jessie, as she caught sight of the flowers.

“Just grand, Uncle Dunston!” added Laura. And then she added, in a lower voice: “If there wasn’t such a crowd, I’d give you a big hug for this!”

“And so would I,” added Jessie.

“All right, that’s one you owe me, girls, remember that,” answered the old hunter and traveler.

They spent over an hour at the table, enjoying the bountiful spread provided, and telling stories and jokes. The boys were in their element, and kept the girls laughing almost constantly.

“We’ll be back to the grind day after to-morrow, so we had better make the best of it,” was the way Dave expressed himself.

After the meal, Dunston Porter went out to give directions concerning the touring car, and Phil accompanied him. This left our hero and Roger alone with the two girls. They sought out the hotel parlor, which they found deserted, and Dave and Jessie walked to the far end, where there was an alcove, while Roger and Laura went to the piano.

“Dave, won’t it be hard work to go back to the grind, as you call it?” questioned Jessie, as both stood looking out of the window.

“In a way, yes, but it’s what a fellow has got to expect, Jessie,” he returned. “A chap can’t get an education without working for it.”

“I trust you pass with high honors,” the girl went on, with a hopeful look into his face.

“I’ll try my best. Of course, I’ve lost some time – going to Cave Island and all that. Maybe I’ll flunk.”

“Oh, Dave, that would be – be–” Jessie could not go on.

“As soon as I get back I’m going to buckle down, and get to be a regular greasy grind, as they call ’em. I’ve made up my mind to one thing I’m afraid the others won’t like.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to cut the baseball nine, if I can. It takes too much time from our studies.”

“Won’t that be easy?”

“I don’t know. I made quite a record, you know. Maybe the crowd will insist on it that I play. Of course, I don’t want to see Oak Hall lose any games. But I guess they’ll have players enough – with all the new students coming in.”

“And if you do graduate, Dave, what then?” asked Jessie, after a pause. This question had been on her mind a long time, but she had hesitated about asking it.

“To tell the honest truth, Jessie, I don’t know,” answered Dave, very slowly. “I’ve thought and thought, but I can’t seem to hit the right thing. Your father and Professor Potts seem to think I ought to go to college, and I rather incline that way myself. But then I think of going to some technical institution, and of taking up civil engineering, or mining, or something like that. Uncle Dunston knew a young fellow who became a civil engineer and went to South America and laid out a railroad across the Andes Mountains, and he knew another young fellow who took up mining and made a big thing of a mine in Montana. That sort of thing appeals to me, and it appeals to Dad, too.”

“But it would take you so far from home, Dave!” and Jessie caught hold of his arm as she spoke, as if afraid he was going to leave that minute.

“I know it, but – er – but – would you care, Jessie?” he stammered.

“Care? Of course, I’d care!” she replied, and suddenly began to blush. “We’d all care.”

“But would you care very much?” he insisted, lowering his voice. “Because, if you would, I’d tell you something.”

“What would you tell me?” she asked.

“The young fellow who went to South America as a civil engineer took his wife with him.”

“Oh, Dave!” and for the moment Jessie turned her head away.

“If I went so far off, I’d want somebody with me, Jessie. A fellow would be awfully lonely otherwise.”

“I – I suppose that would be so.”

“If you thought enough of a fellow, would you go to South America, or Montana, or Africa with him?” And Dave looked Jessie full in the face.

“I’d go to the end of the world with him,” she answered, with sudden boldness.

Then Mr. Porter and Phil came back, and the conversation became general.