THE boys didn’t turn back at the city limits as Captain Bunderley had fully expected they would. Instead, the motor car finally passed through South Milwaukee, and, under the cool and skilful guidance of Bob Somers, plunged steadily along the muddy road, its lamps throwing a strange, fantastic stream of light far in advance. Through its magic, objects continually leaped out of the night, only to be greedily snatched back by the mantle of gloom. Lights suggestive of hobgoblins flitted from tree to tree, or swept across fields and underbrush, but in the immensity of space beyond the glare blackness held supreme control.
Heavy gusts of wind, moaning and whistling dismally in their hurried flight, almost drowned the soft, even purring of the motor. Splashing rain-drops hurled themselves against the wind shield and top; the storm, long delayed, was beginning to let loose its pent-up wrath.
“Guess we’re going to have a peach of a time,” muttered Blake. “If I hadn’t come, though, Tom would have kidded me about it for the next six months.”
The disconsolate “grind” huddled back on the rear cushions listening to the wind and rain and the soft swish of flying mud, as the rubber-tired wheels occasionally plunged through pools and puddles.
“Let ’er out a bit, Bob,” encouraged Tom. “Don’t be afraid.” He pulled the collar of his raincoat about his neck. “No constable around now to stop our scorching. Gee! Ought to have seen me burning up the road to-day, Bob; good you weren’t along, Charlie. Hey—asleep back there?”
“How in thunder could a fellow be asleep with a din like this knocking against his ear-drums?” growled Blake. “Where are we, Bob?”
“Somewhere between South Milwaukee and Racine—that’s all I know,” answered the driver, with a laugh.
The wind blew harder; the rain, too, gradually increased in force until sweeping torrents beat hard against the motor car, splashing its occupants and forming tiny trickling pools in the bottom of the tonneau.
Not a vehicle had passed them; the country seemed absolutely deserted, and only dim points of light shining in the windows of distant farmhouses indicated that any life existed in the seeming wilderness.
The intense loneliness, the continual noises of the storm and the haunting fear that hidden dangers might be lurking in their path prevented Blake from entering into the spirit of the occasion.
“By Jove, this is certainly about the limit,” he groaned, inwardly.
From his position the forms of Bob Somers and Tom Clifton, bending low to escape the cutting blasts, assumed a curiously unreal appearance against the glare of acetylene light streaming ahead. Leaning forward, he sought vainly to pierce the blackness; then, his face becoming the target for splattering rain-drops, he hastily drew back, to straighten up again a moment later as a shrill whistle sent a series of wild reverberations across the landscape.
Over the air came faintly the rattle and roar of a fast express. The road was taking them near the tracks of the Chicago and Northwestern Railway. Charlie’s glance suddenly rested upon something in the distance—a long row of tiny lights sweeping rapidly toward them.
Now they disappeared; now flashed into view once more; the sound of grinding car wheels rose higher. Then, with almost incredible rapidity, the tiny lights became gleaming windows seeming to radiate cheer as they sped onward through the night. In an instant more the train was lost to view, and only a faint screech of the locomotive’s whistle, fading quickly into the roar of wind and splash of rain, told of its passing.
“Wish I was on board,” sighed Charlie. “Tom Clifton’s grins’ll never drag me into any more silly adventures. This is ’most as bad as that awful motor yacht trip. I’ve been going some to-day, all right.”
On the front seat, Tom was saying:
“Motoring in such blackness is dandy fun. The idea that you’re going to run into something the next minute makes it kind of spicy, eh? Gee, Bob, the rain’s coming down harder every minute. Wonder where old Dave and Victor are now?”
“Very likely taking it easy in the hotel,” grinned Bob.
“Christopher! What’s that?”
A low rumbling sound had suddenly risen above the warring of wind and rain.
“Thunder,” answered the chauffeur, briefly.
“Thunderation! I thought for a second it was a message from Dave passing right over our heads,” laughed Tom. “Some weather, this, Bob. Hello—a village beyond!—See it?”
Bob nodded.
“We’ll soon twirl that far behind us,” he said.
The faint points of light dotting the gloom gradually loomed up stronger; the white glare from their lamps at length flashed over a house by the roadside; then on another, and within a few minutes the touring car was sweeping steadily through the village.
Out from the darkness a small form seemed to literally hurl itself toward them, and, racing alongside, filled the air with vociferous barks and yelps.
Leaning over, Bob saw a shaggy form of nondescript color, and caught a gleam from a pair of greenish eyes.
“Nice doggie!” he chirped, soothingly.
“He’s started off every other ‘nice doggie’ in town,” chuckled Tom. “Listen!”
The baying of numerous canines, some near at hand, others in the distance, was rising on the air.
“Some up-to-the-minute constable may nab us for disturbing sleeping dogs,” said Tom.
“That’s so,” grinned Bob.
He manipulated the lever. The car leaped forward, leaving their four-footed foe far in the rear. For a few moments, his senses keenly alert for any signs of danger, he kept up the swinging gait, slowing up as the lights of a store and smithy close to it shot into view.
As they passed the latter a cheerful glow was spreading out over the street from a partly-open door. The boys caught a momentary glimpse of figures and horses within, and heard vigorous blows on an anvil sending forth a series of musical notes.
Then the long street, silent and deserted, slipped slowly by, and, presently, the motor car was threading its way in the zone where human activities seemed to have ceased. Another stretch of dreary blackness followed, with the trees, in the grip of the blasting air currents, soughing and snapping their branches mournfully.
Pelting rain still assailed the travelers. The motor car often rolled through deep pools, scattering sheets of muddy spray aside. The boys could hear the oozy, sucking sound of slimy masses torn from their resting places and spattering against the guards.
“Say, Bob, wouldn’t this be a great place for the machine to break down?” came in a sepulchral voice from the rear.
“You’d surely lose the polish on your shoes, Charlie,” laughed Tom.
“Wonder what Vic ’ud say to this?”
“Oh, he’d let out an awful howl.”
“And no one could blame him, either,” growled the disgusted Blake.
On and on went the car, through another village and then another, and, finally, the city of Racine was seen asserting itself strongly against the gloom of nature.
The boys found on entering the town that most of the stores were closed; but the brightly-lighted streets and the sight of electric cars and an occasional pedestrian was a welcome change after their siege of riding in the lonely country.
“Too bad we can’t stay here for a while, fellows!” exclaimed Bob, “but it’s the long road and blackness again for us.”
“Dave and Vic are probably sound asleep by this time,” grumbled Charlie, “never dreaming about the lovely time we’re having on their account.” Then he added, softly, to himself: “Guess I’ll be having nightmares about it, though, for weeks to come.”
“Speed her up, Bob,” said Tom, eagerly. “A chap can see where he’s going out here.”
The street stretched straight ahead, with not a vehicle in sight. The glare of electric lights flashed on steadily falling rain; the gutters ran with miniature floods, which gurgled and splashed along, carrying on their muddy surfaces a miscellaneous collection of rubbish. Here and there great pools reflected the buildings and telegraph poles with weird effect.
Bob put on more speed; the motor car leaped forward, and for several blocks they flew ahead at a breath-taking pace. An electric car coming from the opposite direction presently whizzed past, a confused mass of blurred lights and shadows.
“This is simply great, Bob!” cried Tom. “Enjoying yourself, Charlie?” he added, with a laugh.
The “grind” was not; so the only answer Tom’s query brought forth was a dissenting grunt.
Occasionally Blake took a long, careful survey of the situation. On looking out, a few moments later, he saw a residential section passing before his eyes. This was quickly followed by the open country and desolation.
The storm, which had lulled during a short period, broke forth with renewed activity. At intervals coppery colored lightning streaked across the heavens, or forked its way to earth. In the brief instants of dazzling glare a series of singularly clear impressions, of dark, twisting clouds, of distant farmhouses, of rail fences, of waving trees, and of formless patches of shadow were imprinted upon Charlie’s brain. It filled the boy with a curious sense of awe and dread which refused to be shaken off.
“A bend in the road just ahead, Bob!” Tom at length sang out.
“I see it,” responded the chauffeur.
The advancing rays of light showed the broad road disappearing around a mass of vegetation.
“Have to slow up now,” said Bob—“danger of the machine skidding on slippery ground like this.”
“You bet.”
As the touring car slackened speed Bob sent forth a long, warning blast of the horn.
Tom laughed.
“Gee, Bob, what was the sense of doing that?” he cried. “We haven’t passed many drays and trucks, or——”
Blake, listening indifferently, would have continued to do so but for the loud, startled exclamation which brought Tom’s sentence to an abrupt close.
He looked up quickly, then, with a gasp of astonishment, he fell forward, bringing up against the seat in front with a violent bump.
The motor car had scarcely swept around the bend when the acetylene glare picked out from the darkness the forms of three huge elephants advancing directly in their path. Almost stupefied with amazement, the boys, at the same instant, saw two men walking close beside them. Not far behind, the light shone upon a huge, red wagon.
Before the warning cries which came from the men ceased Bob Somers had thrown out the clutch and applied the brakes, bringing the machine to a halt almost within its own length.
A shrill trumpet call sounded. The elephant in advance, showing evidence of the greatest alarm, suddenly broke away from its keeper and attempted to turn back.
Then followed a scene which made the nerves of the chauffeur and his companions tingle with excitement. A huge pachyderm, wheeling his body around, effectually blocked the other’s progress. Almost immediately the third elephant got into action, while every movement made by the men, in their efforts to pacify the animals, only added to their fear and confusion.
“Great Scott!” breathed Charlie, grasping Bob by the arm.
The three towering forms were swinging wildly toward them, the nearest threatening to plunge full tilt against the motor car.