CHAPTER XIX
DAVE DOES SOME RIDING
DAVE BRANDON immediately furnished another example of his ability to move quickly when he chose to stir himself. Joe had scarcely landed before the stout boy was at his side.
The crisp whirr of wheels and the thud of a horse’s hoofs was sounding close behind them. Dave stepped to one side, and, by the light from a row of lanterns on the red wagon, saw a buggy containing two men rapidly approaching. Just after it had splashed past him one of the men spoke up.
The thin, rasping notes which poured forth at once proclaimed his identity; it was Mr. Peter Whiffin.
Dave, however, in the general confusion, amidst the noise of the storm and the shouts of the elephant keepers, could scarcely understand a word. The alarming actions of the big animals, too, occupied his undivided attention. Despite the frantic efforts of Scott and Robins, the pride of Spudger’s Peerless broke away, the largest almost sending his cumbersome body against the motor car.
The next few instants witnessed a scene which made even the nerves of steady-going Dave Brandon tingle with excitement. It was impossible to tell which way the animals might turn, and any one standing in the road ran great danger of being knocked down and trampled under foot.
But the movement of the big creatures was not left long in doubt. With another loud trumpeting, Colossus wheeled away from the motor car, then started at a loping gait around the bend, closely followed by Titan and Nero.
“I know’d it! I know’d it!” yelled Joe. “An’ they’ll mash anythin’ flat what gits in their way.”
“After ’em, boys; after ’em!” rose the voice of Mr. Ollie Spudger, in despairing accents. “We don’t want no more suits for damages filed ag’in the show. If anybody as much as sees the beasts runnin’ loose they’ll sue, though only their feelin’s is hurt!”
Scott and Robins were already struggling through the mud and rain in a desperate effort to overtake their charges.
“After ’em for all you’re worth, boys!” bawled Spudger.
“Twenty-five cents for the feller what stops ’em!” roared Mr. Whiffin.
“I’ll take a chanc’t on gittin’ them five nickels!” shouted Joe, snatching a lantern from its place on the wagon and dashing off.
Dave Brandon was conscious of the fact that the automobilists, after a sharp passage of words with Mr. Whiffin, had gone on, apparently thinking that the elephants would soon be under control.
“That’s the way with them automobile fellers,” he heard Mr. Whiffin exclaim. “Don’t keer what happens as long as they have their fling.”
Then the buggy wheels began grinding through the mud again. Mr. Spudger and his manager were in hot pursuit of elephants and men.
Dave stood, irresolute, then:
“Yes, I’ll do it,” he exclaimed, grimly. “As Joe says, if those animals should happen to bump into anything—whew!”
“What’s all that queer mumbling down there, Brownie?” cried Victor. “Hey—where are you going?”
Without making any reply, Dave unhooked a lantern from the side of the wagon and made a dash to the rear.
The rays of light flashed over three horses, whose dilated nostrils and gleaming eyes gave indication of their frightened state. They strained and tugged frantically in an effort to pull away.
“Whoa, boy, whoa!” exclaimed Dave, soothingly, to the nearest, a coal black animal. “Whoa, boy!”
Warily, he stepped out of the way of rapidly-moving hoofs.
“Here’s where some of my cowboy experience will come in nicely,” he murmured. “Whoa there, old chap!” His hand gently stroked a quivering, glossy neck. “Whoa, I say!”
Working near those swinging bodies, in a dim light, with rain and wind beating relentlessly upon him, had an element of danger in it which lent spice to the situation. Dave’s lantern, slung over his arm, sent curious patches of shadow dancing across the ground and reflected in sharp metallic dashes in water and ooze.
In a few moments the lad succeeded in untying the rope. The black horse, freed, reared and plunged; but Dave’s strong grip on the halter could not be shaken off.
“It won’t be so easy riding you, old boy, with no bridle or saddle,” he muttered, “but here goes!”
“For gracious’ sake, what are you about, Brandon?” screeched Victor, in alarm, for the first time realizing his intention. “Look out, you silly thing; you’ll get tossed or be mashed into a jelly!”
To his unbounded amazement, he saw Dave Brandon spring lightly astride the prancing horse.
“Great Scott!” he cried, breathlessly.
“I’ll be back soon, Vic,” shouted Dave.
He pressed his knees against the animal’s side, leaned far over on its neck to escape the full force of the storm, then, with both hands gripping the halter, held on tight as the horse shot forward.
Victor saw him being carried swiftly around the bend, the lantern over his arm swaying violently, and heard the sound of pounding hoofs growing faint in the distance.
It wrung from his lips a cry of admiration.
“By George, but that chap has wonderful nerve!”
Meanwhile, all of Dave Brandon’s skill in horsemanship was called into play. The spirited black horse, frantic with fear, galloped furiously along the slippery road, while Dave, jolted and shaken, sawed hard on the leather straps of the halter.
“Look out!” he yelled.
His ringing voice was added to the warning of clattering hoofs.
Two dusky forms edged with sharp lights from the rays of their lanterns sprang hastily to the side of the road as the apparent runaway bore down upon them. Another, further in advance, loping along at remarkable speed—Joe Rodgers, in a desperate sprint to capture the promised quarter—was seen to stumble.
Dave had a vision of a lantern performing some remarkable evolutions, and knew, more by impressions than actual sight, that Joe Rodgers had taken a header to safety in the mud.
And all this time the red lantern on the back of Spudger’s vehicle was growing larger and stronger. A mass of formless dark, with surprising suddenness, resolved itself into the shape of a buggy and trotting horse.
As Dave sped past he heard loud exclamations and yells in Peter Whiffin’s familiar voice. Then he was plunging on and on into the blackness, with nothing but an occasional gleam of electric flame to light the way.
At last, after a determined fight, he regained control of the maddened animal. His face was stinging from the effects of beating rain and wind and his eyes were aching. But the wild ride had filled him with a strange sense of exhilaration.
As a vivid streak of bluish lightning forked its way earthward, the rider gave a gasp of astonishment and alarm. The instantaneous glare had revealed with startling clearness the ponderous forms of three elephants but a few yards distant. Even before the jarring reverberations of thunder began to sound the dull thud of heavy feet splashing steadily through mud and water reached Dave Brandon’s ears.
It was a moment for quick action and steady nerves.
By the time his fierce yells and strenuous exertions had swerved the horse to one side the light of the lantern was falling on a huge bulk which towered high above him. He saw the elephant’s great head swing around, its eyes gleaming with fear.
“Great Scott!” murmured Dave.
His nerves tingled at the thought of being thrown.
He steered clear of a second shadowy form and soon a third detached itself faintly from the surroundings.
The already badly frightened Colossus became a great deal more so as horse and rider shot alongside. A shrill trumpet call rang out. The huge elephant increased his pace, blocking every effort of the horseman to gallop past. And so, neck and neck, the animals raced along the lonely, water-soaked country road.
Every flash of lightning brought into view fences on either hand. Dave knew there was no safety on either side or behind. Only his horse’s speed could carry him out of the dangerous situation in which he had placed himself. The touch of a great rough body brushing against his shoulder sent a thrill to his heart.
“This is just a little more than I bargained for,” he thought, grimly.
“Get up, Blacky, get up!” he cried out, desperately. His hand descended hard on the animal’s flank. “Go it, old boy! Go it, for your life!”
Dave strained his eyes to pierce the darkness, fearful that the obscurity concealed some object into which they would be plunged with headlong force.
It was one of the most thrilling moments in Dave Brandon’s life. Never before had he taken so many chances; and never before had he been so determined to win.
The boy could hear the labored breathing of his horse and saw patches of foam flung to the wind. The rapid pace over the rough road was fast telling on the animal’s strength. Thus, through the night and storm, the wild flight continued, with neither gaining any advantage until the black horse, by a supreme effort, nosed ahead of its monster rival.
“Good for you, Blacky!” shouted Dave, exultingly.
His lantern whirled in front of Colossus’ head, then again, and again, while he yelled with all his remaining force.
Each time he was in danger of being hurled from his seat; each time the exertion made his heart thump harder. But the actions of the big elephant caused him to keep up the fight with every ounce of strength in his body.
The panic-stricken beast seemed to have no desire to face that curious flashing light which occasionally grazed his upraised trunk. The pride of Spudger’s, seeing no escape from the terrifying object in front, voiced his fear in another loud call, swung abruptly across the road and continued along on the other side.
Dave promptly met this move by a shift of the lantern.
Almost immediately, Colossus slowed up, while the stout boy, feeling that the victory had been won, reined in his steaming horse, so as to keep directly in front of the elephant.
Within a few minutes the struggle was over. The pachyderm, unable to elude the horseman, wavered, then came to a sudden stop.
Dave Brandon was too winded to shout his exultation. He wheeled his horse around and halted in the middle of the road. Water poured from his hat and coat in streams; his clothes were patched with mud, but, as he wearily straightened up, the glow of the lantern showed the familiar broad smile on his face.
“By Jingo,” he muttered, “traveling with a circus surely has its thrills!”
Some five minutes later, when Messrs. Spudger and Whiffin hurriedly drove up, in a state of great excitement, they found three elephants huddled close together by the wayside, while a lone horseman, almost as motionless as a statue, was standing on guard.
And it didn’t take Mr. Whiffin’s sharp eyes very long to discover the identity of this vigilant sentinel.
“Didn’t I tell yer it was the fat feller who passed us, Mr. Spudger?” he demanded, “an’ by gum, he done the trick!”
“And I should say, at twenty-five cents, it was about the cheapest bit of work I ever heard of. And if he’s saved me from looking into any lawyer’s face I’ll add another twenty-five cents myself.”
Mr. Spudger laughed gruffly at his own humorous observation.
“We’d best be keerful not to make too much noise,” warned Mr. Whiffin. “I ain’t hankerin’ to look after them elephants.”
“That’s right,” assented Mr. Spudger. “Let’s do all our conversation in whispers. If they ever git started on the back track this buggy would be only fit for kindlin’ fires, and I don’t like surgeons no more’n lawyers.”
After this remark only the noise of the storm was heard until Joe Rodgers, a sadly bedraggled object, arrived on the scene of inaction.
“Stand as still as if you was a-loafin’ on the show, Joe,” commanded Whiffin, disagreeably. “If it hadn’t been for that there quarter you wanted to git you’d be asleep on the wagon now.”
Scott, the elephant trainer, with his assistant, Robins, next appeared, and the men quickly secured their charges.
A few specks of light on the road and the low rumble of wagon wheels soon indicated that the circus train was approaching.
“You’re the greatest feller in the world, Dave!” exclaimed Joe, admiringly. “I’ll bet Bill Potts never would have done it.”
“His forte is artistic riding,” laughed Dave. “Out on the plains with the cowboys taught me the plain variety.”
The leaders of the four-horse team swung up and the driver, who had taken Joe’s place, clambered to the ground.
“Oh, hasn’t this been another glorious day!” piped a small figure on the seat. “Are you safe, Brownie? Goodness, but this has given me an awful fit of the nerves.”
“I’m all right, Vic,” answered Dave. He led the black horse to its former place behind the wagon. “What’s that? Did you speak, Mr. Whiffin?”
A voice had come from the buggy.
“Step this way,” said the manager.
When his summons were obeyed he leaned out from beneath the shelter, extending a lean hand toward Dave’s indistinct form.
“Here’s that quarter, boy!”
“And you needn’t give a receipt for it just now,” guffawed Mr. Spudger.
“Thank you!” laughed Dave.
Joe, already in his place, his hands grasping the lines, waited until Dave Brandon was seated beside him, then his long whip cracked sharply, the horses plunged and struggled, the wheels reluctantly began to move, and the interrupted journey was resumed.