Chapter XVII
A Wild Race Against Time
The two boys had hardly made a start when they found Sim, Andy, and even Tubby trotting along at their side, and naturally overwhelmed with astonishment at the singular action of the pair.
“Hey! what’s all this mean?” cried Sim.
“Where are you heading for?” exclaimed Andy; while Tubby was gasping:
“My stars! is it as bad as this, and do we have to run for our lives? Will the mills blow up like magazines, Rob, and send everything sky-high?”
“Listen!” snapped Ralph. “Rob here’s got a scheme. He’s asked me to go along with him and help out. Now tell us, Rob, what it’s all about?”
“We must get the car out, you and I, Ralph, and make for your place like the wind. Don’t you understand, it’s that dynamite your father’s got stored there, together with the battery for exploding the same, that we’ve got to have.”
“What, dynamite? Haven’t we got fire enough as it is without trying to blow up the poor old town?” cried the amazed Andy.
“You don’t get on to my meaning,” pursued Rob, feverishly. “If we only get back in time to make use of the stuff, we could shut off the fire from the other section of the town, where all the mills and workshops are.”
Ralph gave a whoop. Evidently something like the truth must have flashed athwart his active mind.
“Oh! Rob, you’ve got that old abandoned building in mind, haven’t you?” he demanded in turn, with a note of exultation in his voice.
“Nothing else,” came the incisive reply, as all of them continued to run on.
“To blow it up would leave a gap, wouldn’t it?” continued Ralph.
“Just what I’d expect to make by destroying that long rambling building,” Rob explained. “If any fire jumped across after that, we could take care of it; but the main lot would be held in check at the gap. That’s what they sometimes do when a great fire is raging in a big city. It is the last resort of desperation.”
“I like the scheme!” declared Sim, instantly.
“It sounds good to me!” added Andy.
Tubby, too, may have had an opinion, but he was not given a chance to express it, for just then they arrived at the garage where the big car had been left.
“Don’t lose a second if you can help it, Ralph!” called out Rob.
“You bet I won’t, Rob!” snapped the other, as he made a rush in the quarter where he could see the car standing waiting for them.
“Have the headlights on, too, because we want to make fast time, and can’t take chances of an accident!” called out the scout leader.
“How about us, Rob?” asked Sim.
“You three fellows will have to stay here and wait for us,” came the order, and Sim, knowing that Rob always meant what he said, and was moreover the head of the Eagle Patrol, did not attempt to dispute his word.
They were keenly disappointed, for nothing would have pleased Sim and Andy more than to accompany the others in their mad flight out to the distant farmhouse, some ten miles away, to fetch back the explosives that might yet save the better part of the apparently doomed town.
Again Tubby said nothing. He would have gone had it appeared to be a part of his duty. Tubby was not “hankering” after such a furious race against time. Besides, what would be the need of five trying to do what two could just as well accomplish? Tubby could show a streak of discretion occasionally, it seemed. Then, again, it would be hard to tear away from that scene of tremendous excitement, the like of which none of them had ever seen before.
Ralph was very much excited, and this may have interfered a little with his efforts to get the car out of the garage in the least possible time. Still, he managed fairly well, though Rob was counting the seconds as never before, with all that riotous noise ringing in his ears, and calling for speedy action.
Presently the car came swinging into sight, with Ralph at the wheel. Rob made a flying leap and was quickly alongside the driver.
“Now hit it up for home, licketty-split, Ralph!” he called out as he fell back upon his seat in front.
“Good-bye, and good luck, fellows!” cried Tubby, warmly.
“Don’t meet with any accident, whatever you do!” added Sim, for the loss of the whole town did not count one-quarter so much in his estimation as would an injury to his beloved chum, Rob.
Then, with a series of loud snorts, very much after the style of a horse under whip and spurs, the big car darted away.
At first Ralph had to go comparatively slow, because of the fact that there were many people on the roads, scurrying this way and that, some of them bearing treasures in their arms snatched from household effects, under the impetus of their lively fears. Wagons and other vehicles too were encountered, but Ralph, being a clever driver, managed to swing around these.
He also kept punching the siren and making a series of staccato sounds such as you can hear whenever an ambulance, or the vehicle of a fire-chief dashes through the streets of your city or town in a sudden emergency.
So as a rule they were given a pretty decent right of way. People brushed aside even while not able to understand what right this car had to the road. Possibly it was accepted as an explanation that perhaps they were speeding for the next town to engage the fire department in the effort to save poor Wyoming.
Behind them lay the burning town. Rob looked back once and shuddered at what he saw, nor could he ever dismiss it wholly from his mind. Often in future nights, as he sat looking into a sparkling campfire, he would again see in imagination Wyoming burning, with the flames shooting high in the air, and myriads of flying sparks making it seem like a grand Fourth of July fireworks.
He bent all his energies to the task of peering ahead, and assisting the chauffeur keep track of the road, in which they were likely to meet some sort of obstacle at almost any moment.
“Seems pretty clear just now!” Rob ventured to say as they fairly flew along at the rate of almost a mile a minute, the old car doing nobly when Ralph turned on every particle of power.
“Yes, it is, but we’re apt to meet a wagon coming to market any old time!” the other shot back at him, never taking his eyes from the road ahead even for a second.
Rob understood. He knew that farmers coming to sell their produce or hay in the local markets were likely to start away from home during the night so as to be in the square before peep of dawn. Yes, there was always a chance that they would meet one or more of these “hayseeds,” as Sim always called the honest tillers of the soil, perhaps asleep on his load; though such a thing was hardly possible with all that brilliant illumination in the sky, as though the world were coming to an end; and, besides, the muttering roar that sounded like a battle, Rob thought.
The headlights were none too brilliant, though answering ordinary purposes. Rob could have wished they were twice as strong, since that would have given a longer range, and they could distinguish any vehicle on the road much further away.
Around certain bends in the road they swung with a vehemence that almost took Rob’s breath away. He had told Ralph to make the utmost speed, and the other was taking his words literally. Several times Rob almost thought they would skid, and bring up in a heap; but owing partly to good luck as well as Ralph’s superior knowledge of the pilot’s duties, they always managed to avoid this particular disaster.
It was utterly impossible for Rob to count the passage of time. He was aware of the fact that it would take them at least twelve minutes, perhaps more, to make the trip, even when going at this mad pace. Counting the same back, and a short delay while securing the dynamite and the battery, it must be something like half an hour that they would be away from town.
He wondered whether that would seal the doom of Wyoming. The fire was being urged on with feverish haste by that compelling wind, and it was only a question of so much time before it reached the connecting link between the mill part of the town and that section where the conflagration already raged.
Well, they would do all in their power to carry out their plan; if they failed, in spite of everything, no blame could be attached to them. A scout need not reproach himself if he has conscientiously done his duty; the rest has to be left to a higher power than his will.
“Look out! I see something ahead!” suddenly snapped Rob, as they turned a bend, mostly on two wheels.
Ralph slowed down instantly. At the same time he sounded the Klaxon, and veered more or less to one side of the road.
It turned out to be a market wagon belonging to some “trucker” who was making for town in order to dispose of his vegetables, fresh eggs, and fowls. He gave them at least half of the road, and they whirled past. Before they reached him they heard his voice raised to a bellow in which wonder and alarm predominated.
“Hey! what’s that red light in the sky mean, Mister?”
“Wyoming is all afire!” Rob shouted back; and no doubt his words caused the man to experience a sensation akin to fright.
So they kept flying along. It was a weird ride, as remarkable as any one could possibly experience, and the attending conditions added to its strangeness.
The next obstacle happened to be a load of hay. Here they were delayed for as much as half a precious minute of time in getting safely by, since the wagon took up so much of the road. Ralph again proved himself to be the right party at the wheel, for he finally managed to negotiate the passage without an upset.
Where there were straight stretches Ralph made fearful time. No contestant in the Vanderbilt Cup Race could have done much better, Rob thought, as he held his hat with one hand, and strove to see ahead.
All the while he knew what desperate chances they were taking, since this old car was not built for a racing machine. At any moment some weak part might give way, and—well, Rob did not like to even think what the result was bound to be if such a thing came to pass. At least, they would never know what hit them, and there was a little grim consolation about that.
The road was unfamiliar to the visitor, but Ralph knew it like a book; and while he had to keep his eyes fixed ahead, at the same time familiar turns continually told him just what section they had reached.
“Halfway there!” he called out at one time, and Rob drew a long breath of satisfaction, for it meant that they had done a fair portion of the course without meeting with any accident.
“Three-quarters there!” Ralph again told him shortly afterwards; indeed, to Rob, it seemed as though two minutes had hardly elapsed, and yet more than a brace of miles must have been covered during the interval.
“I can see lights ahead that look as if they came from a house, Ralph!” he suddenly burst out with.
“Sure thing! That’s our place!” the other announced.
Still, on they rushed, and presently Ralph cut down the speed.
“Here we are, safe and sound, Rob!” he exclaimed, as he turned in at the lane.